Turning Serious

IT BEGAN INNOCUOUSLY ENOUGH, as conversations at the senior center usually do. I was at my usual station, washing dishes, as I do daily in my capacity as a retired teacher volunteer. I do a little cooking too; I fry catfish, tater tots, and chicken tenders to die for. I often sing softly, sometimes not so softly to myself as I work, enjoying my service to the elderly after giving thirty five years of it to the young. The weekly gospel sing had just concluded, and I, in the spirit, was crooning "I'll Fly Away", one of my favorites, but crooning perhaps a bit too loudly. I have been told so often that I have a good singing voice that I believe it, having been told by people who should and do know. My musical vanity has grown so great that I confess; I love to sing for other people, love to be heard, love the predictable compliments. So, it happened, yet again. A lady heard my booming voice over the dishwasher, approached me, and through the window, said: "you really have a great voice. You should sing in the gospel group". Flattered, but unflinching, I replied: "When they're singing I'm supposed to be working. At least, that's what I'm here for." At that point, I should have quit talking, but didn't. Besides, i said, I really don't like gospel music, except for a few tunes. Its too sycophantic for me, too worshipful, adoring, idolizing. I'm not at all religious, but the God I believe in does not require or even notice when people praise him. I prefer to admire God's work, but not to worship God. Like I said, I should have quit talking after mentioning my busy schedule working in the kitchen. I don't think she knew what the word "sycophantic" means, but she understood the rest, and, as we like to say, it was on. She seemed, as they all do, utterly shocked that she was talking to a non Christian. She told me that her husband had once been a non believer, but had converted, accepted Christ, and that doing so had completely changed his life. I smiled, approvingly. She inquired as to whether she and I might get together and talk sometime. I stopped smiling. I told her that if we did that, she would probably try to change my religious beliefs, I would probably respond by trying to change hers, or by explaining why I didn't share them, and that the exchange might lead to verbal conflict. She asked me whether I was happy, not believing in God, and all. I replied that I am indeed happy, joyously so, and always have been, save for a few bumps in the road, despite my non christian religiosity. She seeme utterly perplexed. Calmly as I could, I reminded her that I in fact do believe in God, just not her God, not the Christian God, not the Biblical God. I believe, I went on, in the same God as Thomas Jefferson and Albert Einstein. I think I even threw at her the terms "pantheist" and "deist". I'm pretty sure that she didn't know those terms either, had no idea what I was talking doubt, but that it wasn't christian, and therefore pagan, heathen, bad. Sensing her despair, I hinted that I really ought to get back to my dish washing, and she relented, unhappy. It could have been much worse. I could have expressed anger at her for daring to question my religiosity, daring to be presumptuous and arrogant enough to think that not only did my beliefs need improving, but that she could improve them. I could have said that I am as intelligent and well educated as she, that most non Christians are, and that people who think it their sacred duty to influence the religious views of others are insufferably arrogant, and insulting. But I've learned not to do that. She, on the other hand, could have condemned me to eternal damnation in hell, but maybe, just maybe, she has learned something too. If nothing else, she has learned that if she wants to get a great deal on a free lunch at the senior center, she is much better off getting it on a clean plate.