The first evangelist was a Nondenominational Christian (which has somehow become a denomination in itself) boyfriend, and he attempted to accomplish his great conversion by giving me a Bible for St. Valentine's Day. It should be noted that before this point he professed to be fine with my (lack of) religion and wonderfully open-minded, and I believed him. More fool I.
He had highlighted passages that he considered appropriate and wrote a note in the beginning as to why this is the perfect gift for such a holiday. It was NOT the perfect gift. His note said something about a gift of love, written by Love Himself. Sweet, except that he didn’t really love me (as proved by his cheating on me a few months later), and that he had no knowledge of the significance of the day beyond what Hallmark told him[2]. The passages he chose were cliché at best, mostly from 1 Corinthians, and the Bible itself was bound in black, faux leather and was similar to one that might be found in the Barnes and Noble “Affordable Classics” section. There were no academic footnotes, and he highlighted nothing in the Song of Songs. How do you talk about the Bible, love, and St. Valentine’s Day without reading the Song of Songs? “Love is strong as death; jealousy is cruel as the grave” (Song of Songs 8:6). It doesn’t get any better than that. His was an unoriginal and melodramatic gesture. I was not moved, which is possibly a good thing for all the other evangelists out there.
The next evangelist on my list (although not the next I encountered) was Catholic. Catholics have a special place in their hearts for me. I seem to have a homing device I don't know about, that all of them can sense. Either that, or I have some sort of a heathen scent that I put out that is somehow irresistible[3]. I was baptized Catholic as a baby, but my parents left the Church shortly after I was born, and I was raised with principles not tied to any religion. Catholics seem to view this as a challenge—as though I’m “unfinished” and just need a little varnish or something.
This next man wanted to be a priest, sometimes. Lucky me. His attempts at evangelism were as numerous as they were unsuccessful, but they can basically be summed up in the following. He found himself attracted to me for whatever reason, but bemoaned my lack of faith. How could he possibly give up the priesthood for a heathen? He therefore decided that I am a Jezebel[4] that had been sent specifically to tempt him. He actually once said to me, "Get thee behind me," with no trace of irony. I am still not Catholic, and as far as I know, he is never became a priest.
The last notable evangelist in my life—although he, too, was not the last—was also Nondenominational, and also professed to be open minded. In fairness, in many respects he is open minded, even, to a certain extent, when it comes to God. (He’s a bit older than previous evangelists, so perhaps open-mindedness, like wisdom, comes with age.) He was good; he never pushed. He did ask me early in our friendship if I believe in God, but that was it. Admittedly, the way he phrased it—“You do believe in God, right?”—should have sent up a red flag.
What really did it for me, though, was visiting his church. I’m generally a big fan of visiting new houses of worship to see what they’re all about. I prefer to do so alone, though, or with fellow heathens, so there’s no pressure. (I majored in theology in college too, so I consider myself a sort of religious anthropologist.) But, he asked nicely, so I agreed. It was….something. I may have just picked a bad day to go, but there was a lot of fire and brimstone talk, a lot of damnation of non-believers. I felt like at any moment I might burst into flames right there in front of the whole congregation. To be honest, if my friend hadn’t been seated next to me, I probably would have walked out, a first for me.
He was cool, though. We had lunch after, and talked about what happened. I have the great misfortune of not being able to keep my thoughts from appearing on my face, so he already had an idea of how I felt anyway. He was good about it and said that it’s usually more friendly, but I could tell that this was to be a great parting of ways. We’re still friends, but not as close, and it’s been a long road. But really, I couldn’t wish for more than his friendship and the occasional prayer to save my soul.
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[1]There is an exception to this statement. (There is always an exception.) When I visit different places of worship for regular services (i.e. not a wedding, baptism, funeral, etc.), after the services emissaries are often sent to see if I’ll join. I find this excusable for a couple of reasons, though. 1. It’s an understandable mistake. Why else would I attend a service if not to see if I’d like to join that religion or house of worship? 2. They always send women.
[2] Far be it from me to presume that you don’t know the history of the day, but just in case, here’s one version of the story. (There are several.) St. Valentine was martyred for secretly marrying couples in the Christian Church back when there was only one type of Christianity and it was illegal to be Christian. The choice of Feb. 14 as the day to celebrate is possibly the day Valentine died (in about 270). It is also, however, the sacred day of Juno, Queen of the Roman gods and goddess of married couples. Coincidence?
[3]At this point, it is probably prudent for me to add that as far as Catholics go, women as well as men take issue with me, although without the sexual bent and with less fervor to convert.
[4] Interestingly, although Jezebel is now associated with seduction for dire purposes, a la Delilah, there is no mention of sex in her efforts to convert her husband Ahab. This is true of many women in the Bible, but that would take up another whole blog to address.
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