Is there a GOD?
So the other day I was out on the ave, waiting on a friend of mine near the subway station. I was standing there by myself, leaning on the rails, hot, sweaty, tired, and totally out of it. I just got off the phone with him when suddenly, out of nowhere, this guy asks, “Can I give you something to read?” I stood there, staring blankly. All those times I rehearsed what I’d say the next time one of THOSE would come up to me again…this time I blanked out and said nothing. It was 90+ degrees out and I was too exhausted to even think clearly. In my hands now was a pamphlet that said in bold letters: “Is there a GOD.” It was shaking in my hand, nervously, angrily, yet I still said nothing. “Are you Hispanic?” I stared, lips quivering now. He asked again. I could not respond. He handed me two similar pamphlets, this time in Spanish. “Here’s one for you and another one for your Spanish friend.” He smiled and left. There I was, standing there stunned and speechless. And very, very angry.
This was definitely not the first time this happened. The last time a group of women approached me at the bus stop and asked me if they could give me something to read. Another time, a woman waiting at the bus stop with me (who did not even know me) offered to pick me up on Sunday to go to church with her. I don’t see why she was waiting on the bus that day if she supposedly had a car that she could pick me up in, but I didn’t broach the subject further. I lied and said “Sure” and she was all bubbly and happy and gave me a slip with her phone number to call her. To be perfectly honest, I have never felt so creeped out in my entire life. Even when those random guys hollered and honked their horns at me from their cars like wild hyenas, foaming at the mouths with their “Hey sexy!” or the one curious comment of “I like your style!”, I still wasn’t nearly as scared as I was by that church woman. Another time, many years ago, I was on the bus and this woman sitting down handed me a pamphlet and I stared blankly at it and back at her. “Read it, it’s good for you.” I said nothing and simply left it on the seat and left the bus a few stops later. Yeah, it’s good for me, but I think it’s even better for you. Practice what you preach, my dear.
Countless weekends these groups of people clad in black suits and dresses come knocking at the doors. I don’t answer it. I don’t have the guts to spit in their face. I’ll end up staring, blankly, while they try to proselytize. But deep down inside, I just don’t care. I don’t care about your Watchtower. I don’t care about your “message.” I don’t care about your “god.” I wish I had the balls that this guy does. It’s Saturday, don’t these people have something better to do? Go to church and pray if you want to, but please leave the rest of us alone. Please.
Sometimes these “good, church-going people” can be some of the most frightening. One time I was at the bus station waiting around 20 minutes for the bus. All the while, this middle-aged woman with a gigantic cross around her neck was spinning in circles screaming “JESUS!!!!!” Everyone went about doing their business, acting like a woman whirling around like a top screaming “JESUS” for at least 20 minutes straight is a perfectly normal occurrence. Well, in NYC, it sure is, but I digress. Another time I was on the bus and this elderly woman with a huge cross painted in black down the middle of her face started preaching to everyone on the bus. Everyone either looked out the window or down into their lap, ignoring the Christ-preaching looney.
The bottom line is this: I don’t understand why people need to force their beliefs onto other people. Keep your beliefs to yourself. I don’t go around telling you that you worship a statue made of stone or a man who exists in fairytales in a big fat book called The Bible. No, I keep my beliefs to myself and you should keep yours to yourself too. The truth is, no one really knows for sure, so why slam your opinions in my face? Why preach your beliefs to the non-believers as if it were fact? As for the question you ask on those silly little pamphlets of yours: “IS THERE A GOD?” The answer to that is a big fat “NO!” Maybe I’ll paint that in black on my forehead too, so the next time you ask me if I believe in God or if you ask me if I want something to read, I’ll have the answer predetermined for you.
