If you have spent any time around The Shack you know that I have had more than a few encounters with missionaries of all types. For those who are new here are some of links that you can use to catch up.
Just to be balanced I should find the links about dealing with The Shluchim that have visited me here, not to mention Shmuley from the Kabbalah Center. Good old Shmuley who tried to strong arm me into giving him some kesef so that I could be granted deeper enlightenment. I don’t take too kindly to that kind of behavior so you sometimes receive a strong response from me.
This afternoon I received a visit from a man who told me that he felt compelled to walk the neighborhood and visit his brothers, The Jews. If you show up at my door and say that you need to speak to me about The Jews you can guarantee that my bullshit meter has just gone to Defcon 1.
I don’t know what it is about this time of the year, but I always seem to get a few right around now and September. Anyways, the fellow shows up at my door and asks if he can speak to me about giving money to an organization that helps people. That is a reasonable request and if that was all he had said things would have been fine. But it didn’t stay there.
In a matter of moments he launched into this grand explanation about his real reason and need to visit his brothers, The Jews. As he proceeded to explain how he could help my family find a deeper purpose in life I cut him off. I was curt, but polite. He was undeterred and tried to explain to me that the world is full of signs of end times and that I am risking the souls of my children.
Missionary Man: Sir you realize that by not accepting the lord you are risking eternity.
Jack: I haven’t any concerns.
Missionary Man: Don’t tell me that you aren’t worried about this.
Jack: I don’t worry about fairy tales and nursery rhymes. When little Miss Muffet gets off of her tuffet and tries to kick my ass I might take it seriously.
Missionary Man: I find what you are saying to be quite troubling.
Jack: Do you think that my people killed your lord?
Missionary Man: Yes, but I don’t hold you responsible for that.
Jack: How very kind of you. Now if you really believed that we killed G-d you’d better get moving before I turn you into some kind of serpent or send you someplace less comfortable, like cleveland.
Missionary Man: This is not right.
Jack: What’s not right? That you come to my door and pretend that you are the only one who has a path to spiritual enlightenment or that I threatened to send you to some horrid location in the midwest.
Missionary Man: You’re being rude and offensive.
Jack: Hello pot, this is the kettle, you’re black. I can see from the look on your face that went right over your head.
Missionary Man: It did.
Jack: Has it ever occurred to you that the reason your job is so hard is because you are wrong or do they brainwash you into believing otherwise.
Missionary Man: I am not brainwashed. I know what I am saying.
Jack: Do you understand Hebrew or do you read a translation?
Missionary Man: I don’t need to understand it. I read translations that were provided by scholars of great repute.
Jack: See, the reality is that you really don’t know if what has been taught to you is accurate.
Missionary Man: I trust their scholarship.
Jack: Fine. I don’t. I already know about the mistranslations and misinterpretations. I already know the responses that you’ll give me and how to counter those. But why would I want to waste any more time.
Missionary Man: Your soul is not a waste of time.
Jack: These conversations are a waste of my time. You aren’t going to convince me. I believe what I believe and you believe what you believe. Truth is that I feel a bit badly for trying to antagonize you.
Missionary Man: Make it up to me by listening to what I have to say.
Jack: Nice try. I don’t feel that badly. Besides, I am still mulling over whether to turn you into a newt. See, I can’t even pretend to be nice. Do you know what a blog is? I am asking because I am going to blog about this entire conversation.
Missionary Man: That is a violation of my privacy. I forbid you from doing so without my written permission and I deny you that.
Damn, the man denied me. Whatever will I do.