Saturday, September 01, 2007
Walking With Jesus
I knew before they said a word that they were Mormons. They all look the same. They look like they've just walked out of work in black tanktops and jackets. The same black outfits with small identikit black bags on their left side. And black name tags on their left lapel. Elder Branson. Elder Olguyside.
I walk past them and I am engaged in conversation. They've obviously been on courses on how to interact with people. Personal training courses. Whilst remaining as polite as I can be - and most people are by nature polite - they seem, in my eyes, to exploit the fact that people don't actually like being rude.
Draw you in. Follow a patern, a script. People pay good money to learn how to direct conversations. They're salesmen, pimping a belief. Selling a control mechanism. Polite and inoffensive. What your grandmother would call "nice men". At the risk of invoking Godwin's Law, you could say that Hitler was probably not without some modicum of charm.
I'm within a hairs breadth of questioning why they oppose same-sex marriage. or how far into their two year missionary commission they are. But at the end of the day I cannot ultimately be in any way bothered to engage with them. I take a leaflet. I walk away.
Before I have crossed the road, they're talking to someone else. Jesus doesn't discriminate. There is no quality control in heaven. Anyone who wants to be part can be a part. Anyone can be touched by the hand of God.