A few people have described
me as a skeptic, a cynic, and a pessimist.
Webster’s defines these terms thusly:
Skeptic: a person who
questions or doubts something (such as a claim or statement) : a person who
often questions or doubts things.
Cynic: a person who has negative opinions about other
people and about the things people do; especially : a person who believes that
people are selfish and are only interested in helping themselves.
Pessimist: a person who feels or believes that bad things
will happen in the future.
I am all these things at times, but everyone is. Today, I was sitting on my couch when someone
rang my old antique doorbell three times.
No one ever rings that doorbell, unless it is a friend intentionally
being annoying. When I went to the door
there were two nicely dressed individuals standing on my stoop. One man, one woman. The man wore a fedora and had a thin mustache
like mine. His was grey, his suit was
grey, his hat was grey, and the cardigan he wore beneath his suit jacket and
above his pressed white button up shirt, was blue and looked like it could’ve
been homemade. He wore a black and white
striped tie. His partner wore an olive green
shawl over a plain blur dress. She had a
red-orange knit hat that also could’ve been homemade. I didn’t look at their shoes, I was too busy
staring them in the face trying to figure out what they were doing on my porch,
and how I could get them away from me.
“Good morning Sir, my name is Robert. Are you familiar with the Bible at all sir?” I thought about that question for a moment. Yes I was. I was raised Catholic. Had I memorized the King James, like I assumed these two had? No, of course not, it is a book. A book written by men to teach others how to live. It is not the word of some being from some other magical place.
“Do you know the lord’s prayer?”
“Yeah.”
“What does it say in there?” I start to try and remember all the words. It is hard to do when I am not in a giant room filled with other people reciting it. I have to mouth the words. I get to the part about ‘on earth as it is in heaven’ and Robert interrupts me.
“Now what do you think about that, doesn’t that sound nice?” This man is presupposing that I believe in heaven, know that it is nice, would like it to be that way on earth as well.
“Yeah sure it sounds nice, from what I have heard of about heaven.”
“Well I have this brochure for you to look at with some questions on the back. Do me a favor and look at those questions and see if you think those are good questions for Christians to be asking. And pick one that you would like to learn about.” The silent woman pulls the brochure from her bag and hands it to me. The front had a collage of a bunch of nice looking people from every ethnic background and the words ‘Good News From God!’ in big bold letters. I flip it over to check out the news. I read the fourteen questions on the back, trying to find a question that didn’t have the word God, Christian, or lord in it. The only one was number six. ‘What hope is there for the dead?’ I tell Robert that I had thought a lot about number six. How I wasn’t sure what happened when we died. How I hope that we could see our loved ones. But how I am pretty sure we just end up rotting away in the earth. I tell him how the idea of not existing scares me. How this world for me could not exist without me. So, honestly what hope is there for the living or the dead.
“I am glad you ask that question. The answers to all these questions are in here.” He pointed to the Bible and looks up in the brochure what verse he should read to correspond to my existential dilemma. He opens the Bible and tells me to read John 11:21-24, 38-44. I immediately wonder what was written in 25-37. I read the words he wants me to read. And he talks to me about Lazarus. The story made me angry. What was the point in even allowing Lazarus to die if he was just going to bring him back. It made death pointless. I smile at them and tell them I will read the brochure and read my Bible and meditate on all this, and other unnecessarily polite lies. They tell me that they will come back next week same time. I make a mental note not to be home around 1130 on Thursday and say goodbye.
“Good morning Sir, my name is Robert. Are you familiar with the Bible at all sir?” I thought about that question for a moment. Yes I was. I was raised Catholic. Had I memorized the King James, like I assumed these two had? No, of course not, it is a book. A book written by men to teach others how to live. It is not the word of some being from some other magical place.
“Do you know the lord’s prayer?”
“Yeah.”
“What does it say in there?” I start to try and remember all the words. It is hard to do when I am not in a giant room filled with other people reciting it. I have to mouth the words. I get to the part about ‘on earth as it is in heaven’ and Robert interrupts me.
“Now what do you think about that, doesn’t that sound nice?” This man is presupposing that I believe in heaven, know that it is nice, would like it to be that way on earth as well.
“Yeah sure it sounds nice, from what I have heard of about heaven.”
“Well I have this brochure for you to look at with some questions on the back. Do me a favor and look at those questions and see if you think those are good questions for Christians to be asking. And pick one that you would like to learn about.” The silent woman pulls the brochure from her bag and hands it to me. The front had a collage of a bunch of nice looking people from every ethnic background and the words ‘Good News From God!’ in big bold letters. I flip it over to check out the news. I read the fourteen questions on the back, trying to find a question that didn’t have the word God, Christian, or lord in it. The only one was number six. ‘What hope is there for the dead?’ I tell Robert that I had thought a lot about number six. How I wasn’t sure what happened when we died. How I hope that we could see our loved ones. But how I am pretty sure we just end up rotting away in the earth. I tell him how the idea of not existing scares me. How this world for me could not exist without me. So, honestly what hope is there for the living or the dead.
“I am glad you ask that question. The answers to all these questions are in here.” He pointed to the Bible and looks up in the brochure what verse he should read to correspond to my existential dilemma. He opens the Bible and tells me to read John 11:21-24, 38-44. I immediately wonder what was written in 25-37. I read the words he wants me to read. And he talks to me about Lazarus. The story made me angry. What was the point in even allowing Lazarus to die if he was just going to bring him back. It made death pointless. I smile at them and tell them I will read the brochure and read my Bible and meditate on all this, and other unnecessarily polite lies. They tell me that they will come back next week same time. I make a mental note not to be home around 1130 on Thursday and say goodbye.
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