I used to work with a guy who was about 70, had long white hair and beard, and looked like the classic wizard. He spoke with a quiet tone of voice, and could go on for hours about any subject.
He told us a story about how got visited by Jehovah’s Witnesses. When they asked what religion he was, he replied “I am a druid.” They asked him about this, and he went ahead and invited them in.
They stayed for hours, but this guy had the patience of Job. Whenever they brought up scripture or some kind of biblical prophecy, he would say “That’s interesting. That passage has roots in Babylonian myth…” and then would explain the why/where/how/when, and occasionally inject some (probably made up) druidic axioms as well. Of course, being the polite drones they were, the JWs couldn’t interrupt an elderly soft-spoken gentleman like him to make their pitch. They got spoonfed a double dose of counter prothletyzing.
I didn’t see “cult” coming above. I’ve had a couple of experiences in Alabama and Georgia where people claim to be theology students “taking a poll” and in both cases what they were was evangelicals out to witness to me or anyone else who said they were anything other than whatever First Baptist Methodist Episcopal Church of the Blood of the Fiery Lamb Holiness Tabernacle of Zion (Reformed) fundie church they were a part of (which was hardcore Kirk Cameronish church but just inside the lines of mainstream).
I responded to one with “Well, I guess you were lying about the poll” when they started witnessing and he responded with “Oh no, we really are taking a poll”. I asked him where he was writing down the info since when I said “No, I don’t belong to a church” he made no marks and didn’t seem to have anything checked on his question pad. He said “It’s not that kind of poll exactly…”, meaning evidently that it’s the kind where you choose a random but scientific sample of the population and ignore the answers. I think he later went to work for the Bush Administration taking polls about public opinion on Iraq.
Yeah, me neither. Maybe it was just the insane hunger. But I’ve talked to a lot of cool theology students, and I had in my head the idea of a theology professor giving an assignment like “devise a prophetical interpretation of Revelations and discuss it with someone of different faith.” That’d be a sweet assignment.
“No, I’m not terribly interested in theology but, as a practicing psychologist, I’d be pleased to tell you more than you want to hear about your motivations for proselytizing. For instance, you’re probably not very familiar with the concept of projection in connection with a lack of faith. Projection is…” and so forth.
I’m not actually a practicing psychologist but they don’t know that. And I can churn out psychobabble by the hour. They quickly lose interest.
…As I pulled the screen door closed, she stopped, turned, and stared at my morning wood. She drew back and hesitantly approached the door. With a shaky voice and a smoky gaze, she asked if she could come in and talk to me about my soul and God’s kinky plan… Wah-Chicka-Wah-Wah…
FWIW, probably the opposite. JW’s go out of their way to NOT piss off their their neighbors. A JW family living in the neighborhood also seems to serve as a moderately effective LDS Missionary Repellent, too. Not foolproof, but better than marinating in Off! brand bug spray.
No, I’m not (devout atheist, actually), but have had several neighbors who were. JWs aren’t supposed to preach at work, either, so they’re generally also pleasant co-workers. It’s the ones you haven’t met that are such PITAs.
As a result, I have no entertaining stories of being accosted by Jesus’ sales staff.
Sadly, this only works on an internationally diverse liberal arts campus about 50% of the time. The fact that it ever works at all is kind of funny.
The thing is, I like talking about religion, and like the OP I get stuck because of my inability to say, ‘‘What you’re telling me is complete bullshit.’’ But one day I was sort of in the mood when this dude walked up to me and said, ‘‘Would you mind talking to me about your thoughts on God?’’
‘‘Sure,’’ I said, ‘‘I am a Buddhist.’’
‘‘Oh,’’ he muttered, and walked away.
I thought I was really onto something, but I should have known better. I was accosted by a JW lady at home and when I pulled out the ‘‘I’m a Buddhist’’ thing she acted all thrilled and told me she had a Buddhist friend.
It got to the point where she was banging on my door on a weekly basis. I just don’t have the backbone. But seriously. Door to door proselytizers, leavemetehfuckalone please.
HD, that’s a fascinating video, thanks for sharing. It’s interesting that the way they reacted is essentially the same way us heathens react when people try to convert us… with discomfort and irritation. Imagine.
Oh, and I wanted to add… part of my weakness for JWs is probably the fact that I had a very good friend in high school who was JW. He was so freakin’ sincere and genuinely cared about people. And having been a religious proselytizer at one point myself (junior high) I also grasp that it’s out of compassion that people are there, taking time out of their day because gee, they really care about your soul. That’s nice and all.
It’s from a hilarious program called “John Safran vs. God”. It’s from a Sydney TV channel, and unfortunately it only runs on the Sundance Channel here in God’s Country. If you get a chance to see it, though, sit down for an episode or two.
OK, olives, since you’re a former proselytizer, I have to ask: What kind of conversion rates did you actually see on your door-to-door romps? Did any significant number of people actually find God through their conversations with you? If not, do the proselytizers simply ignore the facts and go out there every weekend assuming that it’s going to do someone some good anyway?
Oh yes, I loved the episode where he recreated the movie “Footloose” on the playground of his deeply orthodox ex-school. And the investigation of the Mormons with the covert purchase of their magic underwear.
Allow me to clarify–I was not a door-to-door proselytizer. Instead I would bring my Bible to school with me and talk incessantly about Jesus with anyone who would listen. I did try converting my friends, which some of them eventually ended up hating me for. A few people did start taking more interest in God, and that only encouraged me, you see.
At that age I read a lot of Christian books intended for kids my age, which would tell you that God wants you to embarrass the hell out of yourself by appearing obsessed with him. We’re in the Lord’s army, and all that… knowing that God had a plan for me and wanted me to do ‘‘good’’ (read: talk incessantly about him) made me feel special and loved. So my willingness to annoy people with my thoughts on religion was motivated by both guilt and a genuine desire to spread the joy I felt around the world.
This is actually why me and my JW friend became such pals. He was just as serious and weird about religion as I was, and we had a friendly sort of antagonism, in which I would say ‘‘Lord’’ and he would insist ‘‘Yahweh!’’ I remember once saying offhandedly that Jesus’ best friends were tax collectors and hookers, and he blushed and whispered, ‘‘I think you mean prostitutes.’’
I grew up in a fundamentalist household, and probably as a result of that I’ve been an agnostic/atheist since I was about 10 years old. For many years I was just as bad they were. Any opportunity I got to argue religion with someone, I took it and shoved it up their ass. Eventually, I realized I was no better than they were, so I instituted the rule of 3. If someone wants to talk religion with me, I say “I’m sorry, I don’t think it’s appropriate to discuss religion in this context.” If they persist, I say this three times. I try very hard not to sound confrontational or angry or anything, I just say I don’t want to talk about it as politely as I can muster. If, after my third attempt at trying to change the subject fails, I tell them what I really think. Things usually get ugly from there.
The exception to the rule is door-to-door proselytizers. If you come on my property and knock on my door and stick your stupid notions of god in my face, you will receive the full force of my religious rage. And you deserve it.
I discovered another exception to my rule last year. I was standing in line to buy a ticket at the Memphis in May BBQ cooking contest and there was a preacher with a big-assed megaphone spewing the most vile, ignorant fundamentalist bullshit. He was an old man, and he had two big, burly guys on either side of him carrying banners, one of which read “Ask me why you’re going to Hell!” This megaphone was so big, it had a car battery powering it. It was more like a portable PA system pointed at a captive audience: a long line of people attending a huge, city-sponsored event. After the preacher said non-Christians hate America, something in me snapped. I found myself yelling back at him at the top of my lungs. People were staring, but I couldn’t stop myself. Somebody asked me if I was crazy. I said “That guy’s invisible friend told him to yell at you with a bullhorn, and I’m the crazy one?”
