With the presidential election two long years away—years guaranteed to be filled with money and mud—over a grilled cheese sandwich and a cup of coffee, I recently had a discussion with a friend about presidential possibilities.

"What do you think Bill Richardson’s chances are?" I inquired.

"Who’s he?" my friend responded.

"Well, I guess that answers my question. If you don’t know who he is, (placing great emphasis on the you) his chances are pretty poor."

With a dim glint of recognition in his eyes he finally said, "Oh, that’s the New Mexico guy."

"Currently he’s the governor of New Mexico, but before that he was our representative at the UN and he also is an ex-ambassador and ex-senator. To date he’s the best qualified of the lot," I gushed with enthusiasm.

"He certainly has more experience. I guess the question is, ‘Does he have the money?’"

"Well," my friend concluded, "It takes money, but really what we want in the White House is someone who can walk on water and feed five thousand with a few loaves and fishes."

That comment continued to rattle around the hollow spaces of my mind. I began to wonder—if the water walker-fish feeder, Jesus Christ, ran for the office of President of the United States, what would be his chances of election?

It didn’t take much thought. It seemed obvious that his chance would be zero, zip, zilch. He’d never make it into a primary, much less through one. But if he tried, the press would crucify him—no pun intended.

Here’s a thirty-three year old single male who spent the last three years of his life as an itinerant preacher/teacher. He didn’t own a home but instead roamed the countryside with twelve guys who were peasants and blue-collar workers. J.C. himself wasn’t a Rhodes Scholar, nor a graduate of Yale or West Point and at thirty-three he hadn’t even made his first million. What kind of a record of success is that to run on?

He was never on the A list for charity bazaars and debutante balls, nor was he part of the Beltway crowd. In fact, he preferred the company of fishermen, street people and prostitutes. Early in his public career he threw the money-changers out of the temple in Jerusalem, so that would nix the Wall Street crowd. Reputedly, on one occasion, he turned water into wine, and while that might endear him to the party boys, I can’t imagine that the California vintners and their lobby would be amused. Then too, in the finale of his life he rode a donkey into Jerusalem at the head of a small parade, so there goes the PETA vote. It’s an obvious case of disrespect for animals. The guy really isn’t a coalition builder at all.

Can you imagine what C-span would do with a bio like that, or what the prep sheet for a Diane Sawyer Prime Time interview might look like?

1. Mr. J.C. You have been reputed to walk on water on occasion. Do you recommend that as a means of transportation in order to decrease our dependency on fossil fuels?

2. Do you really think walking on water will have a significant environmental impact?

3. It’s been reported that you fed five thousand hungry people with a few loaves of bread and several fishes. While that’s certainly a noble symbolic gesture toward ending world hunger, do you think it’s really a practical approach? I mean, what impact will the distribution of free food have on the American farmer?

4. You’ve been quoted as saying, "Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s." Does that mean you favor tax reductions for the wealthy and we can rely on God to take care of the poor?

5. Some people think your hair cut is ridiculous. Shoulder length hair for a man is so sixties that it’s embarrassing. We all have bad hair days, but even a rug or a bad orange dye job like Donald Trump has would be an improvement.

6. People question the amount of time you spend exclusively with single men. Is there any significance to that and would you care to comment?

Also, the fact that your appearance is perceived as less than totally masculine might be a detriment to your candidacy. Have you considered learning to walk like John Wayne?

My guess is that an interview with Diane would be the end of political aspirations for J.C. His only saving feature would be the fact that the public record for the first thirty years of his life is rather meager. At least it will be difficult to accuse him of inconsistency.

But the more I think about our expectations of a person running for the presidency, the more obvious it becomes that walking on water and feeding the masses with a few loaves and fishes just won’t cut it.