No, I don't want a WatchTower. But Thanks For Asking.
Pay attention.
I'm about to torpedo my political career before I even fill out the job application. Maybe it's for the best. The interview process looks brutal.
It all started when the doorbell rang at about 10 on a dreary and rainy Saturday morning. Opening the door, I found a middle-aged, primly dressed woman on my porch. Another woman stood a few steps behind her. She must have been the backup. The one on the porch -- let's call her Maude because a) it's shorter than "the one on the porch" and b) it's not like she'll ever read this -- clutched a magazine and a well-worn book with a fake-leather black binding . I couldn't see the full name of the magazine, but I could see enough:
"WatchT..."
Ah hell, I thought. All irony was intended.
Jehovah's Witnesses.
I was barely out of bed, my hair a mess, wearing pajamas, coming off a long night of drinking scotch and playing video games. In no shape to be Witnessed by anyone.
But there was Maude. Witnessing and asking questions. She opened with doozy:
"With everything happening in the world today, do you ever think we might be in the End Times?"
I know, I know, she was talking, not writing. But I'm sure in her mind "End Times" was capitalized. It might have even been in all-caps.
Telepathic grammatics aside, I found myself contemplating Robert Frost's diverging paths.
Down one path is the rant I save for just this kind of situation. It's clever. Biting even. An insightful commentary on the arrogance of those who would presume to know what everyone else should believe about the ultimate and unknowable questions of life, the universe and everything, and to condemn those of us who don't share that particular belief.
I didn't choose that path. Instead, I offered a short, polite and simple response:
"No."
That seemed to throw her off. Not for long though. She knew her stuff and forged on. You probably know the routine. "Accept God....can I leave this magazine....blah blah...." She was persistent, but polite and utterly sincere.
It was pretty annoying.
Still, I stuck to my chosen path. In a minute or so, I politely sent Maude and her backup on their way to pester my neighbors.
Future Republican strategists are probably frustrated by now. "For the love of all that is Holy," they are (or will be) thinking, "he promised to torpedo his political career. So far all he's talked about is being nice to some lady who may or may not be named Maude. This will be the worst attack-ad ever."
Stick with me boys and girls. Patience. The pay-off is coming.
When I closed the door, the question I was asking myself -- the question you may be asking yourself -- was "Why was I so nice to Maude?" It's not like I was under any social obligation to be polite. I mean, c'mon. Whether it's fair or not, lambasting Jehovah's Witnesses is practically a national pastime. And it's not because I appreciate what she's doing. That should be clear from my temptation to dash down the path of the rant.
To the contrary, it is precisely because what Maude and backup-Maude were doing annoys me...well, infuriates me...that I held my tongue. I didn't want to become her.
Let me explain.
Still with me, Right-Wing Karl-Rovian attack dogs? Here it comes.
I don't believe God exists. Or Jehovah. Or Yahweh. Or Allah. Vishnu or Ganesh either.
Apologies if I left your religion out. No offense was intended. Rest assured I don't believe in your deity of choice either. It's just hard to keep track of all the gods, goddesses and other higher powers I don't believe are out there.
At this point, my future opponent's staffers have probably wet themselves with excitement. While they clean themselves up, let me explain how what I don't believe relates to my choice of the polite path with Maude.
Public discourse about faith in this country has been beaten nearly to death. It may never have been all that healthy in the first place. My fellow liberals, religious and irreligious alike, place the blame for that beating on the Christian Right. They have a point. Conservative blowhards lay claim to all that is religious (which, at least in the United States, they define as Christian), and then from that secured base of operations seek to extend their control to encompass the definition of morality. Listen to James Dobson, Tom Pritchard, Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson and you'll see what I mean. Limbaugh, Hannity and O'Reilly add to the choir. These self-appointed spokespeople for the U.S. conservative movement preach day after day that religion (as they define it) necessarily equates with morality, and that morality likewise requires religion.* These religious voices dismiss those who believe differently -- and especially those of us who don't "believe" at all -- as soulless, heartless and lacking any form of morality or even moral compass.
They possess a special kind of arrogance.
It gives them something in common with many atheists. Secular humanists, atheists, even agnostics have an unfortunate tendency to be (or at least appear) just as dismissive of people of faith, writing them off as mindless, irrational and lacking any grasp on the scientific realities of the universe.
Both camps claim certain knowledge of ultimate reality. Each has about as much basis for its claim. None of us know. None of us can know. We can only believe.
Believe that goodness comes from a spiritual being, and that we are bound to do unto others as we would have them do unto us because a man named Jesus once suffered a lingering painful death as a sort of payment for our failings, misdeeds and sins.
Believe that we are all there is in the world, that goodness comes from our own inherent decency (and evil from our deepest flaws), and that we are bound to do unto others as we would have them do unto us because it's a pretty good idea, no matter who said it first.
I can't pretend all of this went through my head while Maude stood on my porch. Well I could pretend -- it's not like you're gonna know -- but I won't. I won't pretend this sort of thoughtfulness is what prompted me to take the polite path with her. Maybe it was, subconciously. Or maybe I was just too tired to rant. Either way, I'd like to think of it as a small and probably ineffectual step toward improving the discussion of faith, values and religion in this country.
When Maude stepped down from my porch, she hadn't convinced me there is a God. I certainly didn't convince her there isn't. Nor do I wish to.
In the end, she may be right. I could be right.
Or we might both be wrong.
____________
*They are not necesarrily right on either point. I could explain why, but this post is already longer than I expected and if you can't figure it out for yourself you probably won't accept my explanation anyway.
I'm about to torpedo my political career before I even fill out the job application. Maybe it's for the best. The interview process looks brutal.
It all started when the doorbell rang at about 10 on a dreary and rainy Saturday morning. Opening the door, I found a middle-aged, primly dressed woman on my porch. Another woman stood a few steps behind her. She must have been the backup. The one on the porch -- let's call her Maude because a) it's shorter than "the one on the porch" and b) it's not like she'll ever read this -- clutched a magazine and a well-worn book with a fake-leather black binding . I couldn't see the full name of the magazine, but I could see enough:
"WatchT..."
Ah hell, I thought. All irony was intended.
Jehovah's Witnesses.
I was barely out of bed, my hair a mess, wearing pajamas, coming off a long night of drinking scotch and playing video games. In no shape to be Witnessed by anyone.
But there was Maude. Witnessing and asking questions. She opened with doozy:
"With everything happening in the world today, do you ever think we might be in the End Times?"
I know, I know, she was talking, not writing. But I'm sure in her mind "End Times" was capitalized. It might have even been in all-caps.
Telepathic grammatics aside, I found myself contemplating Robert Frost's diverging paths.
Down one path is the rant I save for just this kind of situation. It's clever. Biting even. An insightful commentary on the arrogance of those who would presume to know what everyone else should believe about the ultimate and unknowable questions of life, the universe and everything, and to condemn those of us who don't share that particular belief.
I didn't choose that path. Instead, I offered a short, polite and simple response:
"No."
That seemed to throw her off. Not for long though. She knew her stuff and forged on. You probably know the routine. "Accept God....can I leave this magazine....blah blah...." She was persistent, but polite and utterly sincere.
It was pretty annoying.
Still, I stuck to my chosen path. In a minute or so, I politely sent Maude and her backup on their way to pester my neighbors.
Future Republican strategists are probably frustrated by now. "For the love of all that is Holy," they are (or will be) thinking, "he promised to torpedo his political career. So far all he's talked about is being nice to some lady who may or may not be named Maude. This will be the worst attack-ad ever."
Stick with me boys and girls. Patience. The pay-off is coming.
When I closed the door, the question I was asking myself -- the question you may be asking yourself -- was "Why was I so nice to Maude?" It's not like I was under any social obligation to be polite. I mean, c'mon. Whether it's fair or not, lambasting Jehovah's Witnesses is practically a national pastime. And it's not because I appreciate what she's doing. That should be clear from my temptation to dash down the path of the rant.
To the contrary, it is precisely because what Maude and backup-Maude were doing annoys me...well, infuriates me...that I held my tongue. I didn't want to become her.
Let me explain.
Still with me, Right-Wing Karl-Rovian attack dogs? Here it comes.
I don't believe God exists. Or Jehovah. Or Yahweh. Or Allah. Vishnu or Ganesh either.
Apologies if I left your religion out. No offense was intended. Rest assured I don't believe in your deity of choice either. It's just hard to keep track of all the gods, goddesses and other higher powers I don't believe are out there.
At this point, my future opponent's staffers have probably wet themselves with excitement. While they clean themselves up, let me explain how what I don't believe relates to my choice of the polite path with Maude.
Public discourse about faith in this country has been beaten nearly to death. It may never have been all that healthy in the first place. My fellow liberals, religious and irreligious alike, place the blame for that beating on the Christian Right. They have a point. Conservative blowhards lay claim to all that is religious (which, at least in the United States, they define as Christian), and then from that secured base of operations seek to extend their control to encompass the definition of morality. Listen to James Dobson, Tom Pritchard, Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson and you'll see what I mean. Limbaugh, Hannity and O'Reilly add to the choir. These self-appointed spokespeople for the U.S. conservative movement preach day after day that religion (as they define it) necessarily equates with morality, and that morality likewise requires religion.* These religious voices dismiss those who believe differently -- and especially those of us who don't "believe" at all -- as soulless, heartless and lacking any form of morality or even moral compass.
They possess a special kind of arrogance.
It gives them something in common with many atheists. Secular humanists, atheists, even agnostics have an unfortunate tendency to be (or at least appear) just as dismissive of people of faith, writing them off as mindless, irrational and lacking any grasp on the scientific realities of the universe.
Both camps claim certain knowledge of ultimate reality. Each has about as much basis for its claim. None of us know. None of us can know. We can only believe.
Believe that goodness comes from a spiritual being, and that we are bound to do unto others as we would have them do unto us because a man named Jesus once suffered a lingering painful death as a sort of payment for our failings, misdeeds and sins.
Believe that we are all there is in the world, that goodness comes from our own inherent decency (and evil from our deepest flaws), and that we are bound to do unto others as we would have them do unto us because it's a pretty good idea, no matter who said it first.
I can't pretend all of this went through my head while Maude stood on my porch. Well I could pretend -- it's not like you're gonna know -- but I won't. I won't pretend this sort of thoughtfulness is what prompted me to take the polite path with her. Maybe it was, subconciously. Or maybe I was just too tired to rant. Either way, I'd like to think of it as a small and probably ineffectual step toward improving the discussion of faith, values and religion in this country.
When Maude stepped down from my porch, she hadn't convinced me there is a God. I certainly didn't convince her there isn't. Nor do I wish to.
In the end, she may be right. I could be right.
Or we might both be wrong.
____________
*They are not necesarrily right on either point. I could explain why, but this post is already longer than I expected and if you can't figure it out for yourself you probably won't accept my explanation anyway.
posted by CaS @ 6:54 PM
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