I like to think of myself as open-minded and tolerant. I believe in gay marriage. I have pagan friends. Piercings and tattoos and brandings don't faze me. I even like some Republicans. But certain things make me clench.
On Father's Day we went out to dinner. While sitting at our table in the crowded dining room, I hear a voice from the next table say, "Jen." Now, while I did grow up in this area, I have not lived here for a long time. I honestly don't know very many people in Bergen County. I also believed that having brown hair and an extra forty pounds would effectively hide me from people I went to school with. Not true. I looked at the person saying my name, a woman my age who looked slightly familiar.
She introduced her family while I desperately tried to remember who she was. I pointed to Hot Guy and kiddos, still trying to remember her name. Finally, while I was distracted by the princess, Hot Guy smoothly said, "I'm sorry, I missed your name. . .". She supplied it, and I vaguely recalled her. We had not been anywhere close to friends, but I'd always thought she was sweet. One potentially embarrassing problem solved. I then felt like I could talk to her. We chatted throughout the meal.
As we were preparing to leave (ten minutes before we actually did, what with the packing of toys and bibs and cups), she rendered me speechless again. "What religion are you?" If anything, I am a lazy Unitarian. But mostly I'm not a fan of organized religion. I would have been far more comfortable if she had asked about our sex life or how many cigarettes I sneak in the backyard. I didn't know how to respond. I didn't think, "We won't be attending your church, you freak" was appropriate. I think religion should be personal. Like how much is in my checking account - she never would have asked me that, would she? But she felt okay about religion, because she wants me to go to her church.
Ick. I just want to say that I lived in Kansas City for nine years and no one ever asked me that question. Besides the time a co-worker laid hands on me to heal me (I was so sick and so pregnant that I would have done anything), I didn't have a lot of experience with proselytizing in the red states. But it's happened twice here in two months.
The second time I just said, "No, thank you." I don't want to engage in a religious debate while my kids play in the sandbox. I can be very passionate about my problems with organized religion and that's not why we come to the park.But I don't want to go to church with you, either.
3 comments:
I live in a rural town where the first two questions any person you meet here asks are, "What is your family name?" and "What church do you belong to?"
People have been stunned when I tell them I don't belong to a church. Often they assume I haven't found one yet, but I'll clarify that I do not belong by choice. Some of them leave it at that, but others will make an attempt to win me over and I can appreciate that. Their church means a lot to them. For many people around, it is the best they have to offer - an invitation to a place they love. I thank them for their kindness and gently say I'm not interested. My father was a minister, I grew up in the church. I have an idea of what that's like. I'm not interested in being part of an organized group, which does not mean I don't have beliefs, it just means I don't want to join the club.
You know, I could quite easily have been this person and offended you without meaning to...
I've asked people what religion they are, not because I judge whatever their beliefs are but because I love my kids' school, which is Catholic, and often recommend it to parents I meet. Probably I should just say I like the school, we have a number of students that aren't Catholic, their parents just like the community and education.
But, like I said, I don't care what religion anyone else is, or whether they practice... my husband's not even Catholic.
AMEN!
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