I was walking to my car when a young man came up and wanted to tell me "the good news about Jesus." I hate these self-appointed evangelists intruding on my day and taking up valuable time, even if it only means I have to tell them - in the inimitable words of Sarah Palin - "thanks but no thanks." So instead of simply saying that, I uttered my exasperation and said "Oh for pete's sake, leave me alone." The kid was astonished but remained polite and tried to get another sentence out. I wouldn't let him. I said "you take care of your soul and I'll take care of mine." He remained polite and wished me a good day but it didn't make me feel any better. I don't like people coming to my door to try to save me, and I don't like being accosted in parking lots when I am usually in a hurry because I am running a quick errand for my mother. I wonder, if Jesus was here today, would he be accosting people in parking lots and outside grocery stores? I really don't think so.
So as I was telling this to my mother, rather loudly so my mother could hear, a woman who was also waiting for a blood test came over and stood in front of me. I assumed she was going to tell me I was going to hell and she was there to set me straight. And I was ready for her. Surprisingly, she said "I overheard your conversation and I have to tell you I agree with everything you are saying. I am so tired of these "Christians" telling me they have all the answers and I am in danger of going to hell." Then she said it finally occurred to her why this bothers her so much. "It's a type of bigotry," she said. "These people think they are better than I am, superior to me because of some dogma they believe in." We continued talking for a while and then it was time to leave. I didn't have time to tell her about something I read yesterday in Douglas Kmiec's book about why, as a prolife Catholic, he supports Barack Obama. The story would have warmed her heart, especially as she told me she was an Obama supporter.
Here's the passage from the book:
When the Senator met with me and about thirty other religious leaders, he was asked by the eminent Dr. Franklin Graham whether he believed that "Jesus was the way, the truth and the light." Senator Obama paused and looked Reverend Graham in the eye. "Jesus is my way," said Barack. "No," said Reverend Graham, "do you accept Jesus in this way?" Again, a very thoughtful pause. And then Senator Obama said: "You know, Reverend, the most Christ-like person, the person with the most generous heart I've ever encountered in my life, was my mother. She did not have the benefit of baptism and I cannot believe in a Christianity that would exclude her from eternity. Jesus is my way, and I believe completely that I will see my mother again."
Obama's mother died several years ago.
What a loving, kind, brilliant man, a Christian in the truest sense of the word.
And this story only reinforces how I feel about religion - that we all find our own way, as best we can, with the training we get as children, combined with the doubts and the seeking we do as adults. As I told the woman in the lab, my mind is too small and limited to grasp what may lie beyond this life. I am humbled by my inability to know. But the only kind of God I can believe in is a kind and loving God, not a judgmental, dogmatic God, not a God that believes in going to war against Muslims, or lying in political campaigns or from the White House, or stealing the people's money, or even accosting people in parking lots with the certainty that he knows more than you do. The only kind of God I can believe in is one whom I can trust to see into my heart and know that I am doing the best I can, always trying to reach out to those in need, and always trying to live a good life. If that isn't good enough - if I have to believe in ten specific dogmas, or nine absolutes, or twelve specific commands, then how am I to know which is the right set?
I'd rather live the way I'm living, doing the best I can in this life, and trusting God, if there is a God, to take care of the next.
