I was walking to the grocery store just now, and a man in a flannel shirt who sort of looked like a hobo intercepted me across the street from the LDS church and asked if I wanted to read something. I learned how to politely say, “No” to these people a long time ago, so I did, and walked on. As he departed to find his next target, he said over his shoulder: “Get your life right with Jesus before it’s too late.”
My first instinct was to respond with: “Fuck you, you judgmental turd, you don’t know anything about me,” but of course, I never say that, because I sort of feel sorry for these people. Everything they could be doing with their lives, and they choose to spend it handing out religious tracts to strangers. Even if he had been giving away free copies of his band’s demo CD he’d be putting something made with love into the world, rather than whatever brand of guilt and fear he was selling. He could take the same energy he uses to hand out flimsy little tracts that will get thrown away two minutes later, and put that to use effecting real change somewhere in the world: volunteering to work with special needs kids or rescue dogs or something.
Don’t get me wrong: I’m no volunteer. That’s my own failing, and I own it. I don’t get as involved as I should. But neither am I standing on a street corner judging the souls of people I don’t even know. And really, what does that accomplish? Is the world going to measurably improve if he converts one person with his sloppy proselytizing? No. Because if anything, this world needs less religious folks, not more. Because where is the majority of the hate in the world coming from? From fanatical religious people.
I’m not arguing that religion needs to be done away with, nor am I arguing that no good ever comes from it. There are people in this country and around the world who see their religions as a way to spread love and kindness rather than fear and bigotry, and I love those people so much I’m occasionally tempted to join their flock even though I’m a steadfast non-believer. Also, the same First Amendment that protects your right to religious choice also protects my desire to see pretty girls peeing on each other whenever I want. (I know: the same amendment! Crazy, huh? Welcome to freedom.)
Imagine, if the next time somebody put on their shoes to go hand out tracts, they threw that crap in the trash and instead walked down to a homeless shelter to try to make somebody’s life a little better now, rather than worrying about their soul after they’re dead? Because that seems like the textbook method of getting your life right, whether it’s with Jesus or Mohammed or whoever your personal imaginary friend is.
I’m now in danger of turning into a two-bit John Lennon wannabe, and nobody wants that, so I’ll just wrap up this unfocused bit of soapboxery before I embarrass myself further.
The point is, those religious tract guys really irritate me.