The opposite of faith
Dec. 21st, 2004 03:08 pmSo a man and two women from the church down the street knocked on the door, and the man said, "We're asking our neighbors whether they're sure they'll go to heaven."
I said, "I don't think it's good for people to be sure they'll go to heaven."
He looked a little nonplussed at that -- evidently he was still interested enough in religion that he was tempted to get into a conversation about it -- but he mastered his curiosity and moved on to the next step in the script. "If you died today, and you were standing at the gates of heaven, and God said, 'Why should I let you in?' what would you say?"
(I hate to write cliches, so I'd like to say that the women had some participation in this exchange, but actually they both just stood there on the porch giving him supportive looks.)
"I'd say, 'Because you love me,' " I said. I tried to keep the 'duh' intonation out of my voice.
"Well, that's very true," he said, "but the Bible tells us a way we can be even more confident when we stand face to face with God ..."
Like you're going to look into the face of the Divine and even remember your own name, never mind have the presence of mind to present the spiritual boxtops you've collected in exchange for eternal life, I thought. But by now I was angry, and being angry with strangers over theology isn't a productive use of emotional energy (plus when I'm angry I tend to cry, and I couldn't bear the thought of them walking away saying, 'I think we really touched her'). So I said, "I've spent as much time on this conversation as I care to, so I'm going to say goodbye now." And I shut the door.
I think the thing I hate most about this theology is that it's so damned capitalistic. You've got a contract; you've done everything spelled out on the contract; now God has to hold up his end. (His, yes. These people's god is always male.)
My friend Ptom says, "The opposite of faith isn't doubt. The opposite of faith is certainty."
(Next time I'm going to say, "I only discuss religion with people I love.")
I said, "I don't think it's good for people to be sure they'll go to heaven."
He looked a little nonplussed at that -- evidently he was still interested enough in religion that he was tempted to get into a conversation about it -- but he mastered his curiosity and moved on to the next step in the script. "If you died today, and you were standing at the gates of heaven, and God said, 'Why should I let you in?' what would you say?"
(I hate to write cliches, so I'd like to say that the women had some participation in this exchange, but actually they both just stood there on the porch giving him supportive looks.)
"I'd say, 'Because you love me,' " I said. I tried to keep the 'duh' intonation out of my voice.
"Well, that's very true," he said, "but the Bible tells us a way we can be even more confident when we stand face to face with God ..."
Like you're going to look into the face of the Divine and even remember your own name, never mind have the presence of mind to present the spiritual boxtops you've collected in exchange for eternal life, I thought. But by now I was angry, and being angry with strangers over theology isn't a productive use of emotional energy (plus when I'm angry I tend to cry, and I couldn't bear the thought of them walking away saying, 'I think we really touched her'). So I said, "I've spent as much time on this conversation as I care to, so I'm going to say goodbye now." And I shut the door.
I think the thing I hate most about this theology is that it's so damned capitalistic. You've got a contract; you've done everything spelled out on the contract; now God has to hold up his end. (His, yes. These people's god is always male.)
My friend Ptom says, "The opposite of faith isn't doubt. The opposite of faith is certainty."
(Next time I'm going to say, "I only discuss religion with people I love.")