Jesus, Buddha and Socrates Attend a MegaChurch

Our three friends are at it again. It's Sunday in the suburbs and time for church.

Three world changers walk into a megachurch.

The lobby looks like a mall. There’s a coffee bar, a merch table, a giant screen playing highlight reels of last week’s baptisms to a Coldplay song.

Inside, the worship leader is already on stage in skinny jeans and an overly groomed beard, fog machine blasting around him like a volcano erupting.

“We are bringing back an oldie today!” he shouts. “Everybody ready?”

The band launches into Shout to the Lord.

Jesus closes his eyes. “Please don’t.”

Socrates cups his hands around his mouth and leans into Jesus’ ear. “I can literally shout at the Lord, if that helps.”

“Please don’t,” Jesus says again.

Buddha covers his ears.

When the music ends, the youth pastor takes the mic—another young guy with skinny jeans and a beard.

Socrates stares at him. “And people say the three of us dress alike.”

Jesus nods. “Yeah, but robes are classic.”

Buddha shrugs. “Like a little black dress.”

The youth pastor beams. “Church, we’re so excited about what God is doing here! Remember, your offerings today go toward building a state-of-the-art bowling alley for our youth ministry!”

Buddha opens one eye. “A bowling alley?”

Jesus sighs. “Gotta keep the kids off the streets.”

Socrates looks at him. “You literally died for this, man.”

Jesus shrugs. “And if there were only one church needing one bowling alley…I still would’ve done it all over again.”

Buddha chuckles, but the woman sitting behind them—an older lady in a wide church hat, with a permanent scowl carved into her face—leans forward and hisses, “Shhhh.”

The lead pastor comes on stage with a giant smile and slightly less skinny jeans.

“It’s like they have an Urban Outfitters product placement deal here,” Socrates mumbles.

The pastor picks up his Bible. “Today we’re in John 14:6. Jesus said, I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”

“Please don’t,” Jesus mutters under his breath.

Buddha tilts his head. “You know, when people say ‘the way,’ they always assume it’s their way.”

Jesus nods. “That’s the problem with words. Everyone uses them like bricks instead of doors.”

Socrates leans toward Buddha. “Jesus is the only way… I guess all your followers are fu—”

Jesus suddenly lets out a loud, theatrical cough to drown out the rest.

The woman behind them narrows her eyes at him suspiciously.

The pastor keeps going.

“There is only one way to heaven—and it’s through Jesus Christ. Not through Buddha—”

Buddha raises his hand politely. “Hey.”

“Not through the fancy philosophy they teach you at some Ivy League college—”

Socrates frowns. “Hey.”

“Not through Mohammad—”

Jesus sighs. “I feel bad. We should’ve invited him to come with.”

Socrates side-eyes him. “Yeah, he would’ve freakin loved this sermon.”

Jesus sighs. “Everyone needs their story to be the only story.”

Buddha closes his eyes. “It’s the simplest way to feel safe.”

Jesus rubs his temples. “For the record, I didn’t actually say that. They wrote it down fifty years after I left. And if I had said it…I would have meant that the way I am showing you is the way of truth and life.”

Socrates stares at him. “So…you didn’t say it, but if you did say it, this is what you meant. Okay, O.J.”

Buddha starts belly laughing.

Jesus looks baffled. “You’re comparing me to O.J.?”

Buddha shrugs. “It’s actually a good beach read. If I Did It by O.J. Simpson.”

The woman behind them leans forward, her hat trembling with rage. “Please have some respect. This is God’s house.”

The three of them immediately look down at their sandals like scolded schoolchildren.

The lights dim. Soft piano music swells.

“All rise,” the pastor says. “If you feel God tugging on your heart, come forward and invite Jesus into your heart.”

The three of them stand up to sneak out early. The church lady’s demeanor lightens as she assumes the three men are accepting the altar call.

“Praise God,” she whispers, her eyes wide. “This Muslim is inviting Jesus into his heart!” She’s staring straight at Jesus.

Jesus blinks. “Muslim?”

Socrates shrugs. “It’s just the beard, bro. And the singing in Aramaic. That was weird.”

They walk toward the back exit as the band plays Open the Eyes of My Heart, Lord.

Socrates clears his throat and looks over at Buddha. “You should really invite Jesus into your heart.”

Buddha smiles, almost shy. “…I already have.”

Jesus turns to Buddha. “And you live in my heart too, my friend.”

They share an honest moment between friends.

Socrates shakes his head. “Y’all are cheesy as fu—”

Jesus suddenly lets out another loud, theatrical cough.

“Let’s eat,” Socrates says. “There’s an Applebee’s across the street.”

Jesus squints as they exit the dark auditorium into the bright sunlight. “Gotta love the suburbs, man.”

Buddha starts humming under his breath. “I want my baby back, baby back, baby back…”

“That’s Chili’s,” Jesus and Socrates say together.

Buddha nods thoughtfully. “Hmm. I always thought it was Applebee’s.”

Socrates gives him a look. “You need to watch The Office again.”