If Jesus had been in Denver this summer he could have thumbed through the pages of a bulletproof New Testament, posed for snapshots with a super-hero named Bibleman or shopped for a Last Supper paint-by-numbers kit.
Wandering the floor of the Colorado Convention Center, he would have been able to buy a Christian boomerang ("Love always returns"), chomp a Scripture fortune cookie and sniff a balm called Fragrance of Jesus.
All told, he could have explored six football fields' worth of religious merchandise on display at the 46th annual convention of the Christian Booksellers Assn.
What would he think of this melding of commerce and Christianity?
It's a $3-billion-a-year question, though hardly a new one. Almost since the Crucifixion, believers have been wrestling with the issue.
And today, with religious retailing booming--and secular companies swallowing up Christian ones--some say it is hard to tell whether the Gospel is something sacred or just another brand name.
Indeed, with the exception of furniture and major appliances, it is possible to outfit an entire home in Christian products--bird feeders to body lotions, luggage to lamps.
CBA President Bill Anderson says such goods are so effective for evangelizing that if Jesus gave his Sermon on the Mount today, he would have the disciples hawking merchandise at the back.
Shoppers say the products help them stay focused on God in an increasingly secularized society.
But others find the flood of goods troubling.
"This desire to spiritualize everything reflects an unwillingness to take God's creation at face value," said evangelical author Michael Horton, a former pastor. "God doesn't stamp John 3:16 on sequoias, so why should I have it on my lamp?"
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In a small office littered with everything from St. Ignatius liquid soap to Gummi candy Nativity figures, religion historian Colleen McDannell discusses the quirks and controversies of modern Christian merchandising.
It is a phenomenon, she says, with strong roots in the 1800s, an era of suitcase-sized Bibles, apostle teakettles and the mysteriously preserved remains of a Methodist minister's thumb.
McDannell, a University of Utah professor who writes on the subject, says such items offer a treasure of insights into American spirituality.
"Everyone laughs at this stuff or calls it terrible, but nobody asks why people buy it," she said.
McDannell contends that all believers need devotional objects to keep their faith alive:
"It's tough to [sustain] religious sentiment just in your head. People need to touch, taste and see [the divine] to make it real."
But lately that need has been playing out in increasingly far-fetched ways. And even the merchants seem a little uneasy about it. At CBA, some refer to the plethora of goods as "Jesus junk" or "holy hardware."
Part of the discomfort comes from the age-old chasm between the sacred and the profane. Any attempt to combine the two inevitably sounds jarring.
Consider the mission statement of religious publishing conglomerate Thomas Nelson Inc.: to "produce and market products that honor God and serve humanity, and to enhance shareholder value."
Another company, DaySpring, outlines the history of its Christian greeting card business in a brochure that says, "early in 1973 . . . God [led] us to produce 18 general occasion cards complete with three notes and a corrugated displayer."
And then there are the products themselves: Auto sun visors that say "Jesus Is Lord" on one side and "Need Help! Please Call Police" on the reverse; neckties in patterns of "angel paisley" or "burning bush;" and Heavenly Touch, "spiritually inspired messages" for your answering machine.
"It's all based on marketing and having something new," said McDannell, whose book, "Material Christianity," is due out this winter. "The more you try to search for something new, the wackier your stuff gets."
But Horton fumes: "If this were done on 'David Letterman,' Christians would write to protest that God was being trivialized and made fun of. Instead, we're doing it to ourselves."
Even the faithful have started lampooning the industry.
The Door, a satirical evangelical magazine, recently issued a "Truth Is Stranger Than Fiction" desk calendar containing some of the weirdest Christian products of the last 20 years, including Talking Patty Prayer Doll, Bible gum, crucifixes shaped like oil derricks (from Zales jewelers) and Gold Cross Fragrant Pantyhose.
As absurd as such items might sound, they do serve some critical purposes, observers say. One is expressing identity.
"Forty years ago, everyone assumed you were a Christian unless you spoke out and said otherwise, so people were more private with their faith," said Linda Riedmann, an employee at the Pink Lady Christian bookstore in Orange. "Now, society has changed. [To] take a stand, you put on a [Christian] bumper sticker or you [use Christian products]."
