Posts Tagged ‘Religion’
A parable by Rev. Jim Huber (Required reading for Sunday School class.)
This morning there was a knock at my door. When I answered the door I found a well groomed, nicely dressed couple. The man spoke first.
John: Hi! I’m John, and this is Mary.
Mary: Hi! We’re here to invite you to come kiss Hank’s ass with us.
Me: Pardon me?! What are you talking about? Who’s Hank, and why would I want to kiss his ass?
John: If you kiss Hank’s ass, he’ll give you a million dollars; and if you don’t, he’ll kick the shit out of you.
Me: What? Is this some sort of bizarre mob shake-down?
John: Hank is a billionaire philanthropist. Hank built this town. Hank owns this town. He can do whatever he wants, and what he wants is to give you a million dollars, but he can’t until you kiss his ass.
Me: That doesn’t make any sense. Why…
Mary: Who are you to question Hank’s gift? Don’t you want a million dollars? Isn’t it worth a little kiss on the ass?
Me: Well maybe, if it’s legit, but…
John: Then come kiss Hank’s ass with us!
Me: Do you kiss Hank’s ass often?
Mary: Oh yes, all the time…
Me: And has he given you a million dollars?
John: Well… no, you don’t actually get the money until you leave town.
Me: So why don’t you just leave town now?
Mary: You can’t leave until Hank tells you to, or you don’t get the money, and he kicks the shit out of you.
Me: Do you know anyone who kissed Hank’s ass, left town, and got the million dollars?
John: My mother kissed Hank’s ass for years. She left town last year, and I’m sure she got the money.
Me: Haven’t you talked to her since then?
John: Of course not! Hank doesn’t allow it.
Me: So what makes you think he’ll actually give you the money if you’ve never talked to anyone who got the money?
Mary: Well, he gives you a little bit before you leave. Maybe you’ll get a raise, maybe you’ll win a small lotto, maybe you’ll just find a twenty dollar bill on the street.
Me: What’s that got to do with Hank?
John: Hank has certain ‘connections.’
Me: I’m sorry, but this sounds like some sort of bizarre con game.
John: But it’s a million dollars, can you really take the chance? And remember, if you don’t kiss Hank’s ass he’ll kick the shit of you.
Me: Maybe if I could see Hank, talk to Him, get the details straight from him…
Mary: No one sees Hank, no one talks to Hank.
Me: Then how do you kiss his ass?
John: Sometimes we just blow Him a kiss, and think of his ass. Other times we kiss Karl’s ass, and he passes it on.
Me: Who’s Karl?
Mary: A friend of ours. He’s the one who taught us all about kissing Hank’s ass. All we had to do was take him out to dinner a few times.
Me: And you just took his word for it when he said there was a Hank, that Hank wanted you to kiss his ass, and that Hank would reward you?
John: Oh no! Do you think we’re fools? Karl has a letter he got from Hank years ago explaining the whole thing. Here’s a copy; see for yourself.
From The Desk of…Karl
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1. Kiss Hank’s ass and he’ll give you a million dollars when you leave town.
2. Drink alcohol only in moderation.
3. Kick the shit out of people who aren’t like you.
4. Eat right.
5. Hank dictated this list himself.
6. The moon is made of green cheese.
7. Everything Hank says is right.
8. Wash your hands after going to the bathroom.
9. Don’t drink alcohol.
10. Eat your wieners on buns, no condiments.
11. Kiss Hank’s ass or he’ll kick the shit out of you.
Me: This appears to be written on Karl’s letterhead, not Hank’s.
Mary: Hank didn’t have any paper.
Me: I have a hunch that if we checked we’d find this is Karl’s handwriting too.
John: Of course! Hank dictated it.
Me: I thought you said no one gets to see Hank?
Mary: Not now, but years ago he would talk to some people.
Me: I thought you said he was a philanthropist. What sort of philanthropist kicks the shit out of people just because they’re different?
Mary: It’s what Hank wants, and Hank’s always right.
Me: How do you figure that?
Mary: Item 7 says ‘Everything Hank says is right.’ That’s good enough for me!
Me: Maybe your friend Karl just made the whole thing up.
John: No way! Item 5 says ‘Hank dictated this list himself.’ Besides, item 2 says ‘Use alcohol in moderation,’ Item 4 says ‘Eat right,’ and item 8 says ‘Wash your hands after going to the bathroom.’ Everyone knows those things are right, so the rest must be true, too.
Me: But 9 says ‘Don’t use alcohol.’ which doesn’t quite go with item 2, and 6 says ‘The moon is made of green cheese,’ which is just plain wrong.
John: There’s no contradiction between 9 and 2, 9 just clarifies 2. As far as 6 goes, you’ve never been to the moon, so you can’t say for sure.
Me: Scientists have pretty firmly established that the moon is made of rock…
Mary: But they don’t know if the rock came from the Earth, or from outer space, so it could just as easily be green cheese.
Me: Not knowing where the rock came from doesn’t make it cheese. And I’m not an expert, but I think the scientific theory that the Moon came from the Earth has been discounted.
John: Aha! You just admitted that scientists make mistakes, but we know Hank is always right!
Me: We do?
Mary: Of course we do, Item 5 says so.
Me: You’re saying Hank’s always right because in the list that Hank dictated Hank says Hank is always right. That’s circular reasoning!
John: Now you’re getting it! It’s so rewarding to see someone come around to Hank’s way of thinking.
Me: But…oh, never mind. What’s the deal with wieners?
(Mary blushes)
John: Wieners go in buns, with no condiments. It’s Hank’s way. Anything else is immoral.
Me: What if I don’t have a bun?
John: No bun, no wiener. A wiener without a bun is wrong.
Me: No relish? No Mustard?
(Mary looks positively stricken.)
John: (shouting) There’s no need for such language! Condiments of any kind are wrong!
Me: So a big pile of sauerkraut with some wieners chopped up in it would be out of the question?
Mary: (Sticking her fingers in her ears.) I am not listening to this. La la la la la la la la.
John: That’s disgusting. Only some sort of evil deviant would eat…
Me: It’s good! I eat it all the time.
(Mary faints.)
John: (Catching Mary.) Well, if I’d known you were one of those I wouldn’t have wasted my time. When Hank kicks the shit out of you I’ll be there, counting my money and laughing. I’ll kiss Hank’s ass for you, you bunless cut-wienered kraut-eater.
(With this, John drags Mary to their waiting car, and speeds off.)
Presented as a public service by
Set Free!
*****
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Email} JCnot4me@aol.com
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Kissing Hank’s Ass: A parable by Rev. Jim Huber
Copyright © 1997 Jim Huber.
Email Jim at: james@jhuger.com
All rights reserved. Used with permission.
For more heresy, visit the good reverend’s web site:
Article I
I noticed him from the corner of my eye. The “Jesus” on his shirt nearly escaped my radar. Having caught my attention I read his shirt in its entirety and promptly wished I hadn’t. “Come to Jesus, or burn in Hell.” Oi! The words “burn” and “Hell” were written in big flame-red letters, and I could feel my face approaching that same rosy tint. But I grounded and centered myself, called on my Goddess and decided that he wouldn’t get a rise out of me. He, at first glance, seemed the respectable type. He was tall and lean with salt and pepper hair, a neatly trimmed beard, and a strong jaw line. If he hadn’t been wearing such a rudely worded T-shirt, I might have found him attractive.
I was sitting in the common area with a friend, Marti, and her daughter, Annie, listening to the folk singers and laughing. Annie was about 11 at this time and has had anger problems as far back as we could all remember. So, I knew that I’d need to be especially aware of her if I begin a discussion with this protestor. She’s definitely a chaotic soul, but she’s young and hasn’t yet found her pace in the world. Who knows, perhaps that feisty nature will be helpful in the life ahead of her? But it may also hurt her if she has no backup plan.
I turned to our protestor and asked in a calm yet very direct voice, “Why must you be so rude?” He shortened the distance between us, and knelt down so that we may speak face to face. This gave me hope for the possibility that he would be a gentleman during our discussion.
At the very get go he acknowledged that since I was speaking gently, that he would do so in return. I thanked him for his courtesy and we began the discussion. I repeated my initial question, “Why must you be so rude?” He proceeded to inform me that it was his moral obligation to save my soul.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand how disrespecting my traditions and my friends will save my soul.”
He said, “If you were drowning in a pool, and screaming for help, it would be my moral obligation to save you.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I am not screaming for help.”
“But it is still my moral obligation to save you from eternal torture and pain.”
“From what I know of Jesus, he probably wouldn’t approve of your methods. I don’t recall Jesus ever being depicted as relying only on scare tactics, but love and kindness.”
“You see, that’s were you are wrong, nearly everyone gets that wrong. If you read the texts, he was a man of discipline. He believed in swift and just punishment, as does God.”
“And how do you know this?”
“The Bible.”
“The bible was written by men”
“…men can do great things…”
“But that is rare. Men are fallible, and easily corrupted…”
“Men also have the power to do great things with Gods help.”
“It is more likely that they saw visions due to bad food or mental instability. They had mental problems back then, also. Mental deficiencies are not merely a recent occurrence. Today when someone says that God talks to them we give them medication or even lock them away. You believe in the Bible, but who wrote it and were they sane?”
He stammered at this a bit. He still didn’t believe me, but he questioned his righteousness for a moment.
“My biggest issue here is that, among us, it is incredibly rude to tell another person that their religious beliefs are wrong. No one here will try to convert you to their path.”
“Good.”
“But, I expect the same courtesy from you. And according to your bible, I have freewill to choose my own path.”
“You say that God gave you freewill, as he gave me the freewill to come save you from the pain of hell.”
“But if I were to come to your church, and protest your services, saying that your branch of Christianity was wrong and that you would suffer the fires of hell. I imagine that you’d be pretty upset.”
Pausing momentarily, he nodded in agreement.
About now Annie is really agitated and finding it hard not to speak. “Your shirt offends me. How’d you like it if I ripped it off?” I carefully grabbed the child and pulled her in tight next to me. I calmly whispered to her some words that I hoped would cause her to sit and think for a moment. “Honey, don’t wrestle with pigs. You get all muddy, and the pig likes it.” Quick as a snap she looks up at me and says very loudly, “The pig needs to die!” I looked at my opponent, expecting him to be appalled. Much to my disappointment, he was excited. He was flushed, breathy, and slightly euphoric in response to her outbursts. I suddenly realized his game. He enjoys it. The “love of the lord” was his disguise. He got physical excitement from other people’s frustration. He called out to Annie and tried to encourage her. “Yes, child, repent. Repent of your sins!”
I stated quite matter-of-factly, “She isn’t repenting; she’s is angry, and would probably like to hurt you.” I am still holding her, gently, but not allowing her to leave my arms. He looked into her face and realized that I was not exaggerating. He is now unnerved by the child and a bit more inclined to leave her alone. I whispered a few more words of encouragement to her and asked her politely to be quiet for now.
“Why would she want to hurt me?”
“There are many reasons. You’ve offended her. Also, she wants attention, and wants to feel important. Surely you felt similarly on your way here.”
Annie was offended by my comment, and struggled a bit more, but I promised to discuss it with her shortly.
Though showing that he didn’t agree with me, he abstained from verbal commentary.
I directed his attention back to topic at hand. “In this field of heathens, each of us has some kind of history with your bible. I guarantee that everyone in this field has seen a bible, and by freewill has chosen not to give it acknowledgment. We have had the opportunity to “follow Jesus” and we chose a different path. Your God gave us free will, why can’t you?”
Confused, he looks at me, “But you’ll burn for it.”
“Everyone here has thought of that, not excluding this small child, and chose our own path anyway. Does that mean nothing to you?”
“Then you’ll both spend an eternity screaming in the lake of fire.” The idea of me and this small child screaming in pain for all eternity caused a small smile to grace his otherwise hardened face.
“I suppose that you would have it no other way.”
At this he is flustered and eager to leave. I suppose that he got no satisfaction from me, as I hadn’t raised my voice or lost my cool. I have been as calm as a silk button throughout the discussion, and was in no way shocked or scared when he spoke of my “eternal damnation”. I suppose it didn’t occur to him that I’ve heard everything that he had prepared to say come from the mouths of my nearest and dearest loved ones. After that, there’s no protestor that can get a rise out of me. He rose from his kneeling position to signify his soon departure. “God loves you, and has a plan for you.” Before he left, I managed to steal the final words, “I am so humbly thankful that his plan… isn’t yours.”
He sort of sulked away. I didn’t expect that reaction, but I didn’t see him or his pamphlets for the rest of the day, nor since.
When dealing with an opposing protestor, always stay calm. Don’t give them the satisfaction of your temper, no matter the trespass. Most often they don’t oppose you as much as they want to see the “evil” in your eyes, which they so desperately want to believe, is in your soul. Some may argue, but it is my personal opinion that Christian protestors can’t simply believe in their own faith. They need to actively seek the “salvation” of others in order to feel whole. They’ve read only the parts of the Bible that they like and have thrown out the remainder, which is quite often a lot. Even so, I wouldn’t quibble about biblical texts with a protestor, that method is sure to drag an argument on to the point of exhaustion.
As with your temper, try to keep sarcasm out of the discussion as well. This can only muddy communication. Keep things at the level of polite conversation. If you can keep everyone from throwing things long enough, and if communication is kept clear, perhaps progress can be made and our cultures can find a way to co-exist.
