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Creative Ways to Evangelize: The Tiny Jesus Mission

A tiny rubber figurine of Jesus changed the way I evangelize.

In my work as a writer, I am content to sit behind the scenes. I am emboldened to speak my mind or share my deepest longings on the page in a way I would never do face-to-face with a stranger. I share my love of Jesus and the Blessed Mother joyfully in an article or a book, but I am shy when it comes to talking with others about my faith.

Enter Jesus, or rather, a kitschy little version of Him.

Who doesn’t love a pocket-sized Jesus?

This past summer, while helping my daughter do some back-to-school shopping for her children and her classroom, I bought a dozen tiny Jesus figurines to add to her treasure box in the classroom. It was an impulse buy, but I was charmed by the figurines and thought some of the lower grade kids would like them, too. They did! And within a week she was out of this little treasure.

It was about that time that I started seeing these same little Jesus figurines pop up on social media. Apparently, someone took inspiration from the ducks-on-a-Jeep trend (Jeep owners place rubber duckies on each other’s cars as a nod to their Jeep loyalty), and started placing Tiny Jesus in public spaces.

Becoming intrepid missionaries

My husband immediately ordered three bags of the figurines. The large bag went to our daughter for the classroom, and he and I each got our own smaller bag. Thus began a fun and, I think, impactful way to evangelize.

I started this mission with some trepidation. What if I got caught while placing Jesus in a random spot? What if the business owner thought I was up to something? What if I made people angry or offended them?

What if I spread a little joy?

That’s exactly what happened. I don’t know what the reaction has been to Tiny Jesus placed in bookshelves, public bathrooms, and self-checkouts, but the inevitable happened. I got caught!

When I finished putting stamps on some letters at the counter in the post office, I took out a Tiny Jesus and placed it a little off to the side but visible to the clerk.  I was surprised by a gleeful laugh from behind. The clerk had walked around behind me to replace some forms and caught me leaving the figurine for her.

The conversation that followed was animated and cheerful. “Oh, it’s a tiny little Jesus!” Her delighted exclamation made me laugh with her. And then she wanted to know all about what I was doing sneaking Jesus around like that. She even looked up the figurines and ordered a bag right then and there, excited to join in this fun evangelization game.

Am I converting souls with this little game? Well, we know that’s for the Holy Spirit. What I do know is I am bringing joy to the people open to receiving this little gift. So far, everyone I’ve encountered already knows Jesus, so why bother? Because any opportunity for bringing up our Lord is a beautiful moment of engagement. I’ll never know the impact of this game, but that’s not the point.

I discovered an important element to this mission: it has engaged my family. My husband pops a figure in his pocket when he goes out to run errands. My daughter plans to place her Tiny Jesus figures all over the school for the students to find, but my heart burst when my grandson took his Tiny Jesus and wanted to give it away immediately. In a sweetly unintended way, he has learned to be joyful in sharing his faith. That’s enough to keep me stocking Tiny Jesus for the next surprise encounter.

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Happy Feast of Our Lady of Begoña

My mother, Miren Begoña, and me, María Begoña. Miren is Maria in Basque.

Today is the feast day of a little known Marian devotion, Our Lady of Begoña. She is called Amatxu, mother, to the people of Biscay. This is special to me because I am named after the Blessed Virgin Mary under this title. You may know me as María, but family and close friends call me by my true name, the name I was called by my mother, Begoña. That explains why my social media is a variation of Bego.

My mother is also named Begoña. Her parents, Basques from Guipuzcoa, fled the strife of the Spanish Civil War, and settled in Cuba. When my mother was born, she was named after their beloved, amatxu. When I was born, I was given the same name.

A Name Isn’t Just a Name

I never gave much thought to why I carry this name, but with maturity comes the opportunity for some introspection. I understand why my mother bears this name, a way for my grandparents to hold onto their homeland and perhaps give a piece of it to their daughter born abroad. And I understand that I carry that piece of them, too.

I am a continent and two countries separated from their home of Legazpi. Who knew that one day their grandchildren would be in the United States, with children and grandchildren of their own. I didn’t always love my name because others thought it was “hard to pronounce” and too easy to default to Maria, but as I grew older, I think that perhaps I grew into it. There is nothing sweeter than being called by that name now.

The Story of Our Lady of Begoña

The origins of this devotion trace back to the early 16th century, though local legend suggests that the image of the Virgin Mary associated with Begoña dates to much earlier times. According to tradition, the Virgin appeared to a shepherd on the hillside of Begoña, near Bilbao, and a chapel was built in her honor.

The small chapel quickly became a pilgrimage site, as people from the surrounding Basque region flocked to seek the intercession of the Virgin Mary. Over the centuries, the site underwent several transformations, with the current basilica, built in Gothic style, constructed between the 16th and 17th centuries.

Throughout history, the devotion to Our Lady of Begoña has been a source of consolation and strength, especially for the Basque people. In times of war, plague, and hardship, many turned to her for protection. During the Spanish Civil War, the basilica was damaged by shelling, yet the faithful continued to venerate the Virgin. Her statue, housed within the basilica, has become a symbol of the enduring faith of the people.

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Film Review: Blue Baby

Blue Baby (2024), by filmmakers Josh and Lisa Sabey, offers an intimate and moving look into the lives of young offenders housed at Boys Town, a community where transformation and hope take root. As the documentary unfolds, we are invited to walk alongside these boys as they struggle with their pasts and embark on a journey of healing.

Gritty and Honest

One of the film’s most compelling aspects is its ability to balance stark reality with glimpses of redemption. The Sabeys capture each story with honesty, making it clear that while not all outcomes are perfect, Boys Town provides an essential opportunity for growth. The film doesn’t shy away from difficult truths—it shows how these young men confront brokenness, yet within that brokenness, they find strength and the courage to change.

The heart of Blue Baby lies in the idea that every child deserves a second chance, even those who have lost their way. Boys Town serves as a family-like haven where the boys learn not just about themselves, but about the power of community and commitment. The film highlights the impact this kind of environment has—not just on the boys themselves, but on their futures as men, fathers, and citizens.

Ultimately, Blue Baby is a testament to hope and resilience, reminding us that with love, support, and faith, even the most troubled hearts can find a path forward. It’s a must-watch for those who believe in the possibility of transformation through compassion and structure. At its core, it offers hope for those families who feel the pull of despair.

The film premieres on October 9, 2024. Recommended for mature audiences.

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