From Within a Small Greek Church

"Jesus is black?" questions a white student
wearing capris,
looking up at a picture of a black Jesus
she doesn't believe.
"Jesus is black," states a woman
quietly with grief,
afraid that her spoken words
don't fit into the belief of conformity.
"Jesus isn't black. Don't worry," my white teacher
says
with a look of relief,
that hits the church's fan
that runs around and around so mercifully
as if it never ends.
The student looks at another picture
and asks, "Then why is he black here?"
My teacher glares
as he thinks
maybe he should have drank that beer
as he whispers in the student's ear
loud enough for me to hear,
"Because... that's what color his skin is here."
The student still curious
goes to another teacher and asks,
"Is Jesus black?"
The teacher laughs and walks away
not even responding with an answer.
The girl walks up to another white student and asks, "Is Jesus black?"
He smiles and touches the rim
of his baseball cap, then smiles and says,
"No he's just tan."
I thought she would have been satisfied with that
but she just kept on staring at the picture
analyzing the color and texture,
then I come next to her
about to walk by
then she asks me, desperately, "Is Jesus black?"
She actually wants an honest answer
I could have walked by
told her lies
laughed or even made her cry,
but instead I looked at her in the eye
and asked her, "Why does it matter?"
"Well... I just thought."
"What? That he was white?"
"Yeah," she took a breath, "Well, if he's black, will he still love me?" She honestly asked.
"Would he love you if you were black?"
"Yes."
"Then I think Jesus will love you, no matter what color his skin is," I said as we share a look,
a smile,
then she looks over at another student and says, "God, that's an ugly sweater."
I look at her amazed
noticing her blue eyes and I say,
"Now, that's the Christian spirit," then I whisper
"I wonder what she would do
if I told her, that Jesus was gay?"
But instead I smile and walk away.