Posted: Sep 20, 2000
I was in the mall last night, making a stop at the record store to check whether or not they had any CD's by Air, a duo of guys from France whose style is ambient and retro, kinda like Charlie's Angels on acid. As I wound my way through the halls on my way back to my bicycle, distracted as all get out, my attention was grabbed by a young man in a dark overcoat, pants and a bright sweater. He looked maybe a couple years older than me. He could have been a student at my university. There was another young man with him in equally dark clothes, but I didn't get too good a look at him.
"Excuse me, sir?" the former said.
Now, usually when people approach me wearing dark overcoats, I think they're trying to sell me heroin, or maybe "legal hash" as I was offered one evening on Rideau St. So I fully expected him to offer me drugs, but still I responded in the name of courtesy and a little self-righteousness. Ha ha. I'm going to refuse his drugs. That'll show him.
"Yes?" I replied, turning around but ready to walk away.
"Can I invite you to Church on Sunday?" he continued.
Hmm.
This is new. Nobody's ever come up to me in the halls and invited me to church. I didn't know you had to be invited to church. One day I even walked into a church off the street to see what was going on. A little old lady gave me pamphlets, and the preacher was doing his homily about being Jesus in his friendly preacher voice, so I kinda left after five minutes. But anyway, back to the present.
I was so distracted that I figured it would be fruitless to engage in a discussion about why this man was going around inviting people to church, or why he had singled me out as being particularly receptive to his message, or why he was wearing a black overcoat, or what I was about to say next.
"No, that's okay." I said, and continued walking. I fear black overcoats, anyway.
"Can I ask you why?" he said as I turned away from his faith. This is important demographic information.
"I'm not Christian." I said kindly, ending the conversation.
And I'm not, it's true. But looking back on it, I wish I had stuck around and talked to him about his faith. You see, I wasn't angry that he'd asked me. Nor was I irritated. In fact, I was rather refreshed that he'd asked me a question like that. I'm a religious person as well, only it's a different religion, the Baha'i Faith, I identify with. I don't intend to argue the validity of my faith or his faith, or of any faith -- I've put the choice of religion versus areligion to myself several times, and the fact remains that I've found a religion that I like, and I've accepted the teachings of the Baha'i Faith as my source of insight, just as he's accepted the teachings of Christianity as his. In this way I feel something in common with the young man in the dark trenchcoat, even though he has different ways of teaching or propagating his faith, and there are probably certain things that we would disagree
on.
Who knows what would have happened if I had stuck around and deepened our conversation. Maybe he would have walked away, disinterested in me because I would not convert. Maybe I would have gone to church on Sunday. Maybe he would have decided to come to an evening discussion of my faith instead. Maybe we would have stood around, looking like Neo from the Matrix vs. Dave Lister, discussing our motivations, our differences and our similarities, or maybe what we like on toast. Maybe the roof would have collapsed and killed us all. Who knows. Still I'm glad he grabbed my attention, because it was only after the fact that I realized what the significance of his appearing before me was. I was feeling a little down, and as I walked through the mall I was starting to lose my sense of purpose, my resolve, and the decisiveness I usually feel when I'm on the ball. That's what happens when I get distracted. I probably would have gone home and moped. Instead, he interrupted that, and made me think about the things I've typed here, made me think about what makes me _me_ and not somebody else.
Whoever you are, strange young man in black overcoat, I'm glad you didn't try to sell me drugs.
D.