Have I ever told you about the guy that comes around every 3 or so weeks to deliver to me the message of god? Well, it's true. There is this man, a very nice guy, who buzzes my door at least once a month to talk to me about the man upstairs. Only, and many of you know this about me, I don't believe in the man upstairs. For one, I live on the top floor (ok, bad joke). But really I don't--believe in god that is, I do live on the top floor. But yet, this guy is undeterred. Good thing I kinda like him.
You might have thought that by moving to Japan I would have escaped the land of telemarketers and door-to-door messengers of god. And you'd be right about the telemarketers. I don't get phone calls unless it's Amy, my mother, aunt Judy, a friend, the newspaper lady needing to collect her money, or occasionally the Kencho. It's been very nice being able to pick up the phone without having to let the machine get it.
But back to the messenger....The first time he came by was probably about October or November of 2003. He was with some lady and she did most of the talking. They told me their mission and asked me a few questions and all was going like a normal visit from these creatures. Then it hit me, "Hang on a minute, I'm in Japan. What are they doing here?" They were Japanese, or appeared to be, but she was speaking excellent English. It was a bit strange after being used to the chopped up English of my teachers and students. And then I thought, "And how'd they know an English speaker lived here?" So I asked them and she said, "Oh, we just look at the mailboxes below and if their is a foreign name we knock on their door." I couldn't help but feel foiled again.
In Bakersfield one day, I was at a gas station trying to pay for what I'd just put into my car. I was standing at the counter waiting for the lady to finish up with another customer when the customer's sidekick turned to me and said something about god and me and a church. I just accepted his well wishes and pamphlets and went back to my car with a little less money--for the gas, I didn't make a donation--and some literature about a church up the street. And as I walked to my car he and his friend drove out of the station, waving to me from a big van that on the side said, "Assembly of God" or "Church of Christ" or "Big Al's Faith Healing," I forget which.
Anyway, when I got in my car I felt a bit stupid for not telling this guy how I really think. And I thought about the sense of self-respect I might have if from now on I was to tell these people how I really feel about the issue. So I decided that I'd change my ways, that from then on I would tell all would be messengers of god that I am an atheist.
I am not an atheist who reads the literature, goes to meetings, or takes an active role in the atheist community (is there one?). Hell, no. I would despise that just as much as I despise these messengers telling me what I should or shouldn't believe--in principle, I mean; for if you must know, these people are always quite pleasent to me and as individuals I have nothing against them. No, I am just a guy who sees no reason to believe in , or evidence of, a god. I might as well believe in witches and bigfoot and Santa, too, if I were to believe in god. And if this offends anyone, so be it. I don't get offended by people who tell me they do believe in a god.
Anyway, from that day on I have stayed true to my word--except once when I was with Amy in downtown Kofu and got accosted by a guy whose English was good but demeanor I didn't feel like confronting at the time. But besides that one time I have told all messengers that I don't believe in god. They usually look a bit shocked--a look I like to see--but then all want to know why.
In addition to self-respect, part of my original plan in telling them the truth was to stop the conversation short. I figured they'd see the determination in my eyes about my beliefs and go find someone else to recruit. But it all seems to have backfired; for, instead of giving up on me and leaving, they want to know why I think the way I do. And this inevitably leads to a more legthly conversation than the old tried and true "I'm happy with my own religion" that Amy gives them.
Two guys in Bakersfield came to my door once to tell me a few things. You know the type, clean cut boys of about 16 or 17 years, dressed in white shirts and a tie, dark pants, sweating from riding their bikes from the Kingdom to deliver their message to me (I just noticed that message is spelled with an a after the ss and messenger is spelled with an e after the ss--what a pain in the butt). Anyway, they knocked and I answered. "Hello, I am John and this is David and we're here to tell you about the message of god."
I just looked at them, ready to pouce.
"Have you heard about the word of god?" they asked me.
"Yeah, I've heard a few things," I said thinking back to the gas station and the few times my mom made me attend Sunday school.
"Oh. May we ask about your religion? What are you?"
"Yeah, sure. I don't believe in god," I said in a very polite and satisfying way.
"Oh. Really. I've never met a person...uh, like that." His friend agreed and they both looked at me as if I might attack at any moment.
"Nope. I guess I might call myself an atheist, but I'm not in a group or anything." At this they seemed to relax, possibly in the knowledge that there wasn't a meeting of the First Congregation of Non-Believers going on in my kitchen. "Well, what do you think? I mean, what's the meaning of life then if there is no god?" He asked this in a unconfrontational way and I obliged.
"There is no real meaning to life," I said, "It's all what you decide make of it."
"Oh," they said and proceeded to ask questions and make comments. As it turned out we stood in the doorway for about 10 mintes talking and when they left I have to admit it felt more like I had tried to recuit them than them me. They'd even asked if they could come back some time and talk to me. "Sure!" I'd told them.
And so, from that experience I've decided that my reaction to these people is a good one. They try me and I try them. It sure doesn't save time but it's much more enjoyable and I think that, and I can't verify this, but I think that perhaps they come away from the short conversation thinking that even people who don't believe in god (while still going straight to hell) are at least worthy of some respect. I don't know, maybe I'm way off base here--in my assumption of what they are getting out of it, not my unfaith.
I think one reason I am willing to talk to these people without being rude and shutting the door in their faces stems from a friend I had for a few months while I lived in Texas, Ben. Ben was a born-again Christian. Ben was a bit over the top when it came to Jesus Christ. Ben was determined to change my mind. But Ben was a very nice guy. I liked him. We went fishing and out eating and visited his grandparents house in the next town over (which was a large, old thing of beauty perhaps some 100 years old or more); all in all we were good friends. But our car rides and meals together were full of him telling me why god existed and why Christ was the savior and me telling him that there was no god and that at death it was all over. Good times we had.
But from my friendship with Ben I confirmed, or learned if I didn't already know, that two people can have two wildly different sets of beliefs and still be friends and treat each other with respect--sorry if this sounds preachy, no pun and all, but it's true and it sure would be nice if the world would learn this (to sound like a beauty pageant contenstant).
So with that in mind I always talk to this guy who comes to my door over here (the lady has gone--no idea where). He is very nice and asks me about my time in Japan and I, in turn, ask him about his life in Yamanashi--he's from the island of Kyushu. I think at first all this chitchat startled him, "Why is this guy who doesn't belive in god asking me about my life and family and friends?" But now it is quite friendly and nice. We spend a few moments catching up and then he tells me something about the bible and asks me for my opinion, which I give without censorship. I honestly think it amusses him in a way that a non-believer can be so friendly and thoughtful. But to me it is nothing. I was brought up to respect people no matter who they are. Simple as that.
He also always leaves me with two small magazines, too, which I am sure we've all seen at some point in our lives. One is called Awake, I forget the name of the other. I usually read some part of them, but always get dismayed when the slightly interesting article I am reading cites the Encycolpedia Britannica as its source for some piece of information (how about a primary source?). And they have pictures too. Of these there are three types: the destruction pictures which show our modern world in the throes of some calamity, the drawings of ancient people with long beards and walking sticks and rags for clothes, and the pictures of modern people which depict a small group of people, always slightly ethnically diversified and dressed well, sitting around on very nice furniture or very green grass looking like they are discussing the good book and not whether the Jets will be able to stop the Packers this Sunday.
And so with all that said, I wish each and every one of you a Merry Christmas, Seasons Greetings, Happy Holidays, and Happy New Year (or whatever we are calling it these days).