I was watching a little Book Network this weekend. Somebody was on quoting a lot of statistics about American’s attitudes towards religion. The most interesting statistic? Twenty one percent off all American’s thought Jesus was going to return within the next fifty years. Another 25 percent think he’s definitely coming back sometime.
My brain, despite a few cigars and a lot of beer yesterday to purge the memory of those statistics is still whispering: “Build a rocket ship and escape the confines of this planet.”
Why? Cause, I don’t buy the second coming and I don’t necessarily want to share the planet with people who do. Now for all of you with hair up on your back, about to breath the “A” word (atheist) in my direction, I can only say: Pffftttttt!
I started really thinking about this insidious second coming and belief in God thing. Don’t get me wrong, if someone wants to believe in supreme being, more power to them. It doesn’t hurt anything. If you want to believe in the Tooth Fairy and Santa that’s okay too. But I don’t think we would base our dental policy on the belief a small insect winged woman would pay us for every tooth that rots out of our mouth. But we would base our political system on this sort of idea. The problem with the New Testament is, it’s a good story. I mean, its compelling. Some dude walks around ancient Judea and performs miracles like no one else can. These wine to water and raise the dead tricks make him real popular. So drunk on wine and having a surplus of vinegar, he declares himself God and challenges the status quo. The status quo (known as the conservative movement in the Roman times) immediately crucifies him for being a radical. Oh wait, that isn’t that compelling. Governments, especially the Roman government, condemn people all the time for being radical. Especially people who claim to be God. So what is the big deal? Miracles? Hmm, I think not. I mean I called up a shooting star one night at Summer Camp in front of about three hundred people. Does that make me a deity or really good at coincidence? My Dad ordered a gold and white colored Dodge Van without air conditioning in 1974 and I wanted a blue and white one with air. The gold and white one never showed at the dealer in New Jersey it was suppose to when we moved back from England. We were without transportation and in need of getting to Idaho within a few weeks. The dealership substituted a blue and white van with air. Did I pull off another miracle there? Did I predict the future or was I challenging my Dad’s status quo?
So I’m having a beer a couple weeks ago, at my local brew dispensing place. There is a guy name, “Tom” who is studying to be a Jesuit who now frequents the place and never drinks beer. He’s over fifty, dyes his hair, and has decided to become a Jesuit after having been married and having kids then getting a divorce cause he’s really gay. –Just the sort of person you will want to turn to eventually for spiritual advice. Somehow we got on the subject of “The Passion of Christ.” (We, the bartender and me, were discussing the Oscars.) Tom said he didn’t think the movie was that good. Mel Gibson had spent too much time emphasizing violence. About the third time this guy interrupted Dan (the bartender) , Mike (local professor) and I, on this passion subject, I bit and said, “So Tom, what was the best scene in that movie?”
He looked a little lost for words, then said, “I don’t know.”
I repeated, “Come on, there must be something that stood out?”
He gave me an awkward look. A look you get when you just got caught stealing from your Dad’s wallet or something and are being asked to explain it before he executes you. Tom struggled with, “I guess the whips lined with nails, it really showed the suffering Christ went through for our sins.”
“What a thought cop out.” I thought. Minus ten points for not having an original thought while drinking Coke in a place everyone else is drinking alcohol. Suddenly I found myself in the Dad role. Call me the government. “Christ Tom, you Catholic priests are all about the Crucifixion.” I said, “You missed the point of the movie. That’s why you hate it so much, what was the best scene in the movie? It was the last fifteen seconds.”
He looked at me all confused.
“It was the simplicity of the resurrection scene that made the movie. All that suffering, and the next day, Christ just stood up and walked out of the tomb. That’s the point. That’s the movie. The Romans couldn’t kill Christ or his concepts.”
Tom continued with his confused look. “Christ died for our sins!”
“Oh Jesus, you didn’t get Mel Gibson’s point.” I said, “Nobody cares that Christ got beat up or crucified. The Romans crucified millions of people, and nobody gives a damn about them. Christ lived through the execution. That’s what makes his story great. Not that he was executed.”
Tom just looked like I’d threatened him with crucifixion. He got his coat on a scurried out the door. Dan (the bartender, English Grad for U.C. Berkeley,) just wiped off the bar in front of where Tom had been sitting. “He might want to take a debate class before he finishes seminary.”
--Now that might be the end of this story, but the next Wednesday night, I stopped by for my late night beer and had a few chats with Dan. Tom walked in after fifteen minutes and headed straight for the bathroom. Dan said, “Hey, think your debate buddy will sit on the far end of the bar tonight or what?” So, Dan and I entered into a little friendly wager. I said Tom would sit no closer than three seats from me. Dan took closer. The wager was two bucks. Tom came out of the bathroom and sat in the chair next to me. I slapped the two bucks down in front of Dan as he laughed. Tom started talking to me about the real message of Jesus. I ordered a beer to try and kill the brain cells Tom was filling full of bad rhetoric.
I can’t help but think back to that 21 percent of Americans think the rapture is coming in the next fifty years though. I mean, Tom’s got some pretty preconceived ideas about this second coming stuff. Most based on rhetoric he’s not willing to even question. How does someone who never died come back for the dead? What if in the words of another minister I know, “Jesus comes back as a Mexican? Then what are we going to do? What if the King of the Jews comes back as the queen?“ How would we know he was back?
I think the way we will know is he/she/it will be accompanied by angels. I mean, that’s what monotheism is really all about. Lesser deities. Angels. They make the stories of Judaism, Christianity and Islam good. I mean who cares that some woman had a kid out of wedlock? It happens all the time. But if an Angel announces it. Woo Hoo! Who cares if someone thinks the Bible is being dictated to them from voices in the desert. They are probably schizophrenic right? Give them Thorazine. But if a angel shows up on a winged horse and fly’s that same schizophrenic from Mecca to Jerusalem, now we have a compelling story. We can start a 1000 year war over that. A war that essentially argues who’s prophets and angels were better. You doubt me? What is the fastest growing religion in America? Mormonism. How did it start? -- You got it, with an Angel. The angel Moroni gives the book of Mormon to Joseph Smith. Would anyone believe the newer testament of Christ if an angel hadn’t given it to them? I doubt it.
So, on this whole rapture thing, I’m holding out for an angel. When one shows up at my door and tells me the end days are near. I’ll think about what it means to me. But in the mean time I’ll try and solve my problems on my own. This of course means Tom is going to have a lot of uncomfortable Cokes if he doesn’t leave me alone to my own thoughts.
(See I'm not an atheist, I'm waitin for an angel.)
