A Kink in My Armor

As I write this, we are at Defcon 4 for craziness as the countdown to Rapture is exactly four days away. I wish I had more time to devote to this, but thankfully the left-wing radical media is ALL OVER this story. I especially like MSNBC's Lawrence O'Donnell's take and CANNOT WAIT to see how Bill Maher attacks/discusses it on Rapture Eve this Friday.

But that's not why I'm writing today.

Imagine, if you will (or because I insist), that you are just dying for a chocolate milkshake. But considering that you don't live atop a Dairy Queen, are very lazy and haven't perfected that "instant food" machine from Star Trek, you accept that you're pretty much shit out of luck.

But then there's a knock at your door and, by Thor's Hammer, there's a free milkshake just sitting there with your name on it. Of course, I would typically warn you about free food you find on your doorstep -- much less food with the ability to knock on your door (does it have arms or telekinesis? does it matter?), but you get the idea, right?

So that's why I'm writing.

As you can probably tell, I'm usually at the ready for a good religious discussion. And while my wife and I have some pretty rigorous talks, there's nothing like getting a little strange, if you know what I mean (wink, wink).

And sure as shit, not 10 seconds after hearing a tentative knock on our front door was I engaged in just such a discussion.

Behold, a two white folks, David and Mattie (no, I don't remember their real names), were at my door complete with pamphlets, mousy hair and those damned puppy-dog missionary eyes. Every JW I've met (usually at my front door) exudes this odd mix of overly-confident vacuum salesman and almost-defeated high school junior looking for your $15 to fund the Hurricanes' uniform drive. Honestly, I don't know whether to pity them or drive them away.

In this case, I engaged them. Like big time. 

So, I paid the customary etiquette, nodding and smiling as he droned on a bit about why God didn't really use the Japanese earthquake as punishment (clearly David never met THIS chick). Nice thought, but kinda old news for me. No, I had bigger Jesus fish to fry. So, like a good host, I interrupted.

"Do you think the rapture is coming on May 21?"

David (mid-20's, could be the nerdy forensic guy on "C.S.I. Des Moines") and Mattie (early 40's and probably right at home with a God Hates Fags picket sign in her hand) shook their heads with a reassuring "no." 

"But you do believe the world is going to end soon, right?"

"Well, the signs are all there," David began as I swooned in deja vu (remembering the conversation/confrontation I had at work). David began running down the "startlting" truth behind the increased earthquakes, floods and Charlie Sheen antics which he clearly saw as the trailers before the big show. 

I rebutted with what I found as sound logic -- like the fact that there have ALWAYS been earthquakes and natural disasters or the fact that the perceived increase in such events is colored by the fact that we have better monitoring equipment. Naturally none of this made a dent, at least not for him. But it was for me.

Please to explain: So I am a pretty firm believer in environmental change/global warming. It makes complete sense to me that human activity has had some affect on the plant which is resulting in harsher weather, homeless polar bears and the like. So, why was I just playing all of those scientific facts down? Did I not actually believe them or was I -- (gasp) a victim of COGNITIVE DISSONANCE!?!?

In any other conversation about weather patterns, I would concede that yes, it does seem that earthquakes are getting more extreme, that tornadoes seem to be getting bigger, more frequent. But that has more to do with the melting of polar ice caps, more moist air and what not. I have no faith that it has to do with the amount of heathens in this world.

"So if it's not God causing the increased earthquakes, whose doing it?" I asked.

In a nutshell, his position was that man's wicked behavior was bringing the world to an end -- but where I saw pollution of the air, he saw pollution of the soul. Which may seem like splitting hairs but I don't see it that way. Mainly because to agree with David I would have to accept a whole host of unbelievable notions: multi-headed apocalyptic lions, witchcraft, the devil, Paul Ryan's budget -- it's all too much, and, not to mention, nonsensical.

Take this tidbit: When they told me that a good atheists' deeds (you know, giving to the poor, saving bunnies and the like) did not weigh the same as an average Christian's I asked why. I was told that a really good person's deeds are bupkiss without the J-Man's stamp of approval. Yes, I knew the answer but I really just needed someone to say it out loud to my face. They did not disappoint, but, wait it gets better.

"Does God help those that do not believe in him?" I posed.

I mean if God really is a master chess player, does he only move the pieces that believe in him? If so, why would he bother to punish them if the ones who don't if they wouldn't recognize it as punishment?

"Well," David looked reluctant for the first time, "No, he doesn't."

"But," Mattie piped up for the first time, "The devil might."

If this was a shitty romantic comedy trailer, this is where they would play the record scratch cue.

I literally took a step back, as if to get a better view of this brand of idiocy.

"So, God won't help those who don't believe in him but the devil WILL help those that don't believe in him?"

Now, to be honest, David looked kinda pissed. It was as if Mattie just admitted that "yes, we do spit in your burgers." If he hadn't been abundantly wasn't clear that he wasn't getting a sale before, Mattie had just sealed the deal.

Mattie shrugged her shoulders as if to say "well, you asked."

Oddly, the illogical lunacy of that statement didn't sink in and instead pooled around their feet.

It was hard to react, so I just repeated a shocked "wow" about four times before saying:

"You know, I really do like the Christian message of 'do unto others as you would have done unto you,' but statements like that are the reason why so many people are turned off." I said this not to be mean, indeed, I assured them that I was not "aiming for heaven," but as a genuine statement of disappointment.

But perhaps we should thank folks like Mattie who lay it all bare. She was clear that for all the Jesus talk, many Christians aren't really interested in Jesus' golden rule -- they are more interested in Jesus' Gold Club Card; that exclusive membership that only lets in the like-minded.

Having exceeded my daily dose of BS I bid them adieu and went back in for some breakfast.

The Visit I've Been Waiting For

Not five minutes ago, I saw an older Asian man and a tall, younger African guy approaching our door.

"Jehovah's Witnesses," my wife said almost dissmissively, as if she'd seen this movie before. And to be fair, she has. Like, a million times.

Nevertheless, if two men approach my door, I like to be there to open it.

"Hi, I'm David" the Asian guy offers his hand. "And this is [Joe]." In actuality his name was something more African but I can't remember it.

David explained he was here to do a survey and asked if I had time for it, which, I said I did just HOPING this had something to do with Jesus.

"Ok, do you and your family currently belong to a church?" (YAHTZEE!)

"No, we don't."

"Do you believe that world would be a better place if we all followed the word of the Bible?"

"No, not really." Now, to be honest I DO think the world would be better if everyone followed the golden rule. But that's like one paragraph in a sea of fairy tales and troublesome passages -- killing menstruating women and what not. I would feel socially irresponsible if I thought the world would pick that one nugget out the shit pile AND get it right. Besides Christianity has been around for thousands of years and followed by damn near a third of the planet and, for my money, haven't proved to be such a great deal.

I really got to give it to David and Joe, they didn't visibly flinch though I bet almost everyone who answered that particular question says something in the neighborhood of "yes." Even for the heathen, you cannot escape the thrill of blasphemy when saying something so contradictory to the American faith narrative. I almost didn't say it, but I hate lying more than appeasement.

The big question: "What religion were you raised with, as a child?"

"None," I said (my chest almost perciptablly puffed out with heathen pride). That's right Dave, you're not dealing with some run-of-the-mill "spiritual/non-religious" Johhny Six Pack. This is the real McCoy.

This time David, did do a slight double-take, followed by a refrain.

"So, no religion?"

"Right."

"Well, is there anything else I can do for you? Pray with you or pray for you?"

An odd question, no? I mean, if someone told me they were a vegetarian I'd either have to be hard of hearing or convinced otherwise to then ask them if they wanted to share a cheese steak.

"Nah, I'm good." I said, rather pleased with myself.

A couple handshakes and the two were back on their way, off to knock on more doors. Me? I felt satisfied that two of God's errand boys were witness to the civility and NORMALITY of the neighborhood heathen.

And that was it . . . or was it?!?!

I shit you not, 30 minutes later (yes, it's taken me that long to write this entry), there's a tentative knock on the front door. I rush downstairs, hoping to see the snow-delayed mailman with our Netflix movies for the long weekend.

No, it was Joe.

"Hi, we finished our survey and we determined that you were the winner of the free bible." And dude hands me a black, New King James bible.

I said "Thanks," as he skipped off with lollipop dreams of me sitting down in the kitchen and being instantly converted in his head.

What I SHOULD have said, was "Oh, no thanks, I've already got a copy." Which is true. I have a New International version in the guest room. I even marked the funny parts in yellow highlighter. Alas my tongue was so quick.

So now what? Am I really the biggest heathen in this neighborhood? I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm flattered, just shocked. Do I get to wear a scarlet H on my shirt. Ooh, what if there's a tshirt: "Two out of Two Jehovah's Witnesses Agree That I'm Going to Hell."

Sweet.

PROLOGUE: I actually opened the bible and saw the dedication page. Apparently, the bible was gifted to a guy named Michael from his mom and dad.  "He gave you his own bible," my wife said with the tears almost falling off her tongue. Admittedly, the sentiment took all the cynical wind out of my sails. If "Joe" was really Michael than I would feel really bad. Good thing he wasn't. I flipped to the back of the Bible and saw another name handwritten there -- "Akeem." THAT was Joe's name. I knew it was something more African sounding. I guess Michael donated his bible to Akeem to pass out to random heathens. Who knows? Point is Akeem is the one who gave it to me and, what's more, HE LEFT HIS PHONE NUMBER! I just got booked evangelical style. Thing is, I WILL call him. I've had plenty of true believers reach out, but this time I'm going to take up the gauntlet. I'm going to call Akeem. Like, in a couple days. Not immediately, I don't want him to think I'm some sort of spiritual slut.

I'll keep you posted 

COUNTDOWN TO EASTER-GEDDON II.5: Doing It JW Style

So, I'm at home today on "sick leave" -- cough, cough. For real, my wife really was at the hospital (nothing serious), so I had to pitch hit for her home day care (which includes my daughters, a five year old boy and a four-month old infant). In other words, fun, fun, fun!

Anyway, around 10:30 there's a knock at my door. Lo and behold it's the Jehovah's Witnesses!

Flanked by three old women, they quietly ask me if my wife is home. I tell them "no" and they smile and hand me a little booklet. No muss, no fuss.

Not an hour later, the doorbell rings again.

MORE JW's.

But this time . . . a familiar face.

Oh shit, it's the JW who had been "studying" with my wife for three years until she tried the hard sell and got the boot (you can read about that confrontation right here). It was like seeing some chick you dissed over the phone suddenly show up at your door with flowers.

I'll give the woman her props, she is persistant. When you take into account that my wife pretty much told her to buzz off AND that she read my blog account of visiting her church, excuse me, Hall -- you figure this woman REALLY is convinced that she knows Jesus. Bless her heart.

"Hi David," -- she never remembers my name.

"Hi, how are you?" -- I don't care to remind her.

"Is your wife home?"

"No, she's not."

"Oh well, can you give this to her?" She said handing me the exact booklet the other crew gave me.

"No problem." I'm not lying, I really will give it to her -- so we can laugh together.

"Well, just so you know, we're having a celebration tonight just around the corner so if you want to come by."

So what celebration warrants TWO visits from the JW's within an hour? What's all the hub bub?

Why, the death of Jesus.

Um, Yay?

The booklet read: "Each year, Jehovah's Witnesses mark the anniversary of Jesus' death with a simple ceremony. . . This year, the anniversary falls on Thursday, April 9."

Awww, how inconvenient. Thursday night is the night for "The Office" and "30 Rock" so . . . maybe Jesus should have picked another day to kick the bucket (yes, I have a DVR but I like those shows LIVE). Not to mention, I've seen the JW version of a "rousing day at church" so I can only imagine that a JW's version of a "simple ceremony" would be a lot like playing solitaire in front of a mirror -- only slightly more boring.

Being an optimist, I understand hoping against hope. So, I totally get that look in her eye when she offered the invitation. Sadly, I think she understood the look in my eye that said something like "ain't no way in hell we're showing up."

Not to be mean, but if I'm not going to regular church for Easter (God willing), why would I show up for a second-hand religion's simple ceremony? Yes, the blogging fodder would be AMAZING, but I'm simply not up to it tonight -- need I remind you what's coming on?

With only three days to go, my plans for a sacrilious Easter are looking pretty, pretty, good.

What could possibly go wrong?

COUNTDOWN TO EASTER-GEDDON!

Oh, it's on baby!

With Easter only a week away, the subtle battle to get my children into church has just gone digital. My in-laws are getting desperate. Remember the day before election night, the Republicans dragged Rev. Wright out again in those scary commercials? Yeah, it's getting that desperate.

QUICK RECAP: A few weeks ago, my wife's aunt sent our daughters some very pretty, very useless Easter dresses. Earlier this week, my mother-in-law, the first female deacon of her church, began asking about our Easter day plans of which we have none. If I'm not mistaken we'll be at Hershey Park the day BEFORE Easter but somehow I don't think those dresses will fly there.

Just yesterday, however, my mother-in-law fired off the following email to my wife and brother-in-law:

DAILY DEVOTION
Direct Your Children in the Right Path
Proverbs 22:6 (NLT)

I was really blessed when I heard my 3-year-old grandson tell the story of Jonah and the whale from a toddler’s perspective. I was blessed by the fact that my son and daughter were teaching him the Word of God at an early age. . .nothing is as important as bringing up your child in the fear and admonition of the Lord. In Proverbs 22:6 we find these words that encourage us to impart to our children the ways of the Lord: "Direct your children onto the right path, and when they are older, they will not leave it." The writer is clear that the training must start at an early age, so that when they become mature they will not depart from the ways of the Lord. He also recognizes the importance of the parents themselves walking in the ways of the Lord.

In other words: PLEASE, please, PLEASE take my grandchildren to church this Easter.

Trouble is, my wife is stubborn and will keep our children out of church JUST because she's being pushed to do it. Me, I honestly don't think I've ever been in church on Easter -- historically I spend that day gorging on chocolate rabbits and picking that plastic grass out of my sheets -- so I don't know what I'm missing. Besides, celebrating the death and supposed resurrection of a thousand-year-old Jewish guy by listening to another guy hoot and holler for three hours sounds EXACTLY like the last thing I'd like to do with my Sunday.

But back to the email.

Here's what I find ironic about it. Both my wife and her brother were raised in church. They sang the songs, went to Sunday school, performed in plays -- the whole kit and caboodle. In other words, they were on the "right path" so says the email, and yet . . . neither of them attend church now unless its for a funeral, wedding or a guilty trip while visting their mom. I'm not sure either would pass the Christian litmus test.

On top of that, both married people outside their "faith" and none of our kids can tell you the difference between Noah and Nebakanezer. You know my story, but you don't about my brother-in-law's wife. Raised as a Jehovah's Witness, she has since defected and become a super non-JW Christian. Well, not really, but she celebrates Christmas like nobody's business which is a cardinal sin for JWs. That and being taken seriously. In short, she's as much a Jehovah's Witness as I am a giraffe.

Ok, so here's the point. The email says if you raise your children to be Christians then they will remain that way. But as I see it, if you don't teach them to value it or really understand it and just regurgitate the myths and fear (which are fun) then odds are they WON'T stay "on the path."

So what if you're NOT raised with a religion? Does that mean you'll . . . stray off the . . . oh shit . . . I never considered that. I may have just made my blog obsolete.

All Dressed Up . . .

These are my daughter's Easter dresses.

They were given to us by my aunt-in-law Cheryl (is that right?) for the great African-American tradition of getting gussied up for Easter service.

But wait, you ask, does that mean I'm going to church this year?

Fret not, Thirdsies, I will not be at church for Easter -- I'm actually looking to make 2009 a completely church-free year -- so keep your fingers crossed. You know it, I know it and so does Aunt Cheryl. But this is the latest passive-aggressive missive in the largely silent, but deadly war between myself and my wife's devout relatives.

Want another example?

Every year, we get Christmas cards from her Aunt Sharon who never forgets to add, in her own hand-writing, "Never forget, Christmas is about the birth of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ -- so get to Church before your soul is reduced to a bubbling strip of hell-bacon."

She doesn't actually write that last part, but it is implied.

About two years ago, my wife's theological entertaining of Jehovah's Witnesses, threw her whole family into a tizzy. They all volunteered two hands and both shoulders in the tug-of-war to save her soul -- all doing their part to wrestle her back to Baptism and back to church.

During a conversation with her Aunt Sharon, my wife mentioned that she was still keeping her options open in terms of religion -- you know just dating and not committing to one supreme diety just yet. And, being the understanding and loving aunt that she is, Sharon said kindly: "You don't want to go to hell do you? What about your kids, don't you want them to go to heaven?"

Sweet, no?

And, really, at the middle of this war is our lovely daughters, who, for all my in-laws know, are graven-image-worshipping heathens in desperate need of saving. Hence, these Easter dresses which were either washed in Holy Water or equipped with a tractor beam that pulls the wearer to the nearest Easter Service. If not, the next time these dresses find themselves in church will be when they're picked up as donations.

So far as Easter is concerned, I have no idea what we're doing. We'll be at my parents so, you know, no chance of church there. But the month is still early so anything could change.
Trust me, if I end up at church, you'll be the first to read about it.

Some Conjurer of Cheap Tricks

I am a wizard.

I know I've never mentioned it before, but really it just came up yesterday.

It was a beautiful day in suburban Maryland so the whole fam was outside chilling and inevitably, we ended up across the street with my daughters' best friends -- the Jehovah's Witnesses.

Now, my children know that I am a wizard and ask me to do tricks all the time -- namely pushing a crayon (or something else small enough to conceal in my hand) into my ear and pulling it out of one of their ears.

So yesterday, my youngest (who has no idea that Jehovah Witnesses abhor magic almost as much as birthday parties) asked me to conjure up my famous trick right in front of the four kids across the street -- the same four kids who go to Kingdom Hall every week and occasionally ask me if I "know Jesus."

Needless to say, they were enthralled! After they saw me push a purple Crayola into my ear and pull it out of my youngest's nose, they all became fans/heretics. Suddenly, they were all lining up to be my next partner in blasphemy. Soon I was pulling crayons out of ears, noses and underarms, seranded by a chorus of "oohs" and "aahhs" from the children.

Their mother, a lovely woman who I genuinely like, sat quietly observing and piping up only to nervously say "Oh, kids. They believe anything at this age."

Which is true. Very true. Namely, that a virgin could give birth or a man could live in the stomach of a whale for three days and three nights (sounds like a time share pitch doesn't it?). I mean, if a cheap parlor trick makes you worry about your children's theological future or makes you question your faith, I would consider getting a maintenance plan the next time you go to chur . . .er Kingdom Hall.

The Jehovah Witnesses' Giant Mistake

To be honest, nothing terribly interesting has happened to me lately, so I figured this would be a good time to revisit my wife's spirtitual life. I understand this blog is supposed to be about me, but since we've agreed to live together forever, I might as well start co-opting her life for blog fodder. It's the least she can do.

So, for those who have been following along (I call you Thirdsies), you know that my wife's grip on her native christianity is tentative at best. Ironically, this was helped along by actually studying the bible -- or at least the Jehovah Witnesses' version of it.

The JW's have been studying with her for years now and even got her (and me) to attend their Kingdom Hall for Saturday service (an event lovingly recreated in words for you right here). And while they definitley helped her challenge her fear of hell, their years-long recruitment campaign started to wear thin when they realized they weren't making the progress they had anticipated. So, like most organized religions, they resorted to their last and best line of defense -- the fire sale.

That's right, they brought out the big guns and jumped right to Revelations a.k.a. the crazy shit at the end of the bible. It's filled with multiheaded lions, apocalyptic events, robots that turn into camaros -- it's a show.

Not to mention, they threw in this nugget: "Based on the bible, people live to their 80s. You are in your mid thirties, so your life is almost half over. And it's time to make a choice." Now what the JWs didn't know is that by erasing the concept of hell, they had affectively given away their best bargaining chip. With all the pressure to buy off the plate, my wife had no real reason to commit.

Somewhere during their "end times" spiel, they started regaling my wife with stories about giants who were the offspring of angels and humans. When my wife asked how the angels mated with humans (considering the fact, well maybe not FACT, but the idea that angels have no gender) the JWs said the angels heard so much about this "sex" thing that they took human form and started boffing Jewish women. Turns out, none of the angels wanted to be bottoms and they ALL chose to grow penises.

Apparently, that is where my wife got off the bus. She had had enough and she told them so. Ok, not immediately.

It took some time and lots of hand-wringing, but eventually my wife had to work up the nerve to tell the JWs that she was no longer interested. Seriously, it was like she was breaking up with a boyfriend, a boyfriend who looks like a 50-ish year-old Carribean woman.

But they brought it on themselves -- not just with the fornicating angels and their over-sized offspring -- but by implicating that my wife had to join up now or never. My wife would turn down a free mortagage payment if the person offering it pressured her to "act now." It's a good thing she was pregnant when we got married, otherwise I'm pretty sure my bended-knee proposal would have been nicely rebuffed with a "can I get back to you on that?"

Anyway, I say all because as a heathen, it's hard to know where other peoples's bullshit meters are. Mine tends to go off when mortal folks say they know everything about the afterlife. My wife's? 12-foot-tall angel/man hybrids.

Go figure.