All this over a s’more…?

I don’t usually read the Daily Tar Heel, Chapel Hill’s campus paper, but a friend called to my attention this article by John Musci, called “First letter from John to the Christians.”  His column rubbed me the wrong way, and my friend, who is herself an atheist, also thought he took things one step too far.  I think he took things several steps too far:

“First Letter from John to the Christians” by John Musci

Evening, early fall. A knock on my dorm room door. Quick and heavy. A stranger’s knock. Two strangers, in fact. One man and one woman, dressed in khaki and Polo. They are from Campus Crusade, and they invite me to join them for s’mores in the quad.

I decline their invitation and thank them for stopping by. They assure me they have plenty of s’mores, in case I change my mind. In fact, I do want a s’more. I haven’t eaten anything since that infernal omelet at the dining hall. But I don’t want new friends who, even before they met me, wished I was different.

I know where s’mores lead. S’mores lead to “What’s your major?” leads to “Are you in any clubs?” leads to “How is your personal relationship with Jesus Christ?”

I do not have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. I’m on holiday from Catholicism.

But the Christians who came to my door want me to have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. They’re not offering me a s’more, they’re offering me The Savior, between two graham crackers, a ‘mallow and a hunk of Hershey’s. Because without Him, I am not a whole person; I am not bad – I will not accuse Christians of being judgmental – but I am incomplete.

People like me who are “taking a break from religion” or are just sick of waking up Monday morning with the same questions they had Saturday night are insulted and repulsed by the Christians who seek us out only to proselytize to us.

And we are very tired of being looked down upon by people who are no more satisfied with life than we are.

I struggle, they struggle. I’m lost, they’re lost. I’m uncertain, they’re even more uncertain; the Christians’ desperation to see their beliefs reflected in the world around them reeks of insecurity. The Christians who cannibalize each other in public over who is and is not saved are the most insecure of all.

What’s even more infuriating is the God they come peddling presumedly loves me, yet He doesn’t like who I am. When the Christians say “s’mores,” I hear a fractured version of the 18th-century sermon “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God.”

“The God that holds you over the pit of hell, much as one holds this marshmallow, or some loathsome jet-puffed sweet on a crooked, brittle stick over the fire, abhors you, and is dreadfully provoked: His wrath towards you burns like the gas flames of this cheap portable grill.”

We, the agnostics, atheists and skeptics, are looking for someone whose faith is evident when faith is not the question. We will be open to religion when we meet someone whose everyday joy and ability to cope with pain exceed our own.

I met one such person last year. He laughed as if heaven were today. What was he on, I joked. He kept on smiling, and I kept searching his drawers for antidepressants. Nothing. I soon learned that he was Jewish and that he taught Hebrew songs to children every week. I completed a photo story on him for a photojournalism class and watched him practice his faith one frame at a time.

He didn’t change when he put his yarmulke on. He was just as warm, excited and caring as he was when we sat on the porch and talked about Billy Joel and Colorado.

All he ever said to me about religion was, “My faith inspires me. You can come to services if you want.” He didn’t offer me anything. Just a chance to come and see. And I know when the time is right, that chance will still be there. And if the time is never right, I know he’ll understand.

And that’s what makes me want to believe in something again.

—

That really ticked me off.  So I decided to write an editorial on it.  No word on whether or not they care to publish it, but it got a weight off my chest to submit it, even if I had to contain what could very well have turned into an extensive, sprawling rant to within 250 words.  So here’s what I wrote (I should have had a summary of his article in the first sentence, but oh well): 

“You got a problem with s’mores?” by Me

While Musci’s “First Letter” was clever, it is unfair to assume that all Christians who openly express their faith look down upon those who don’t share that faith.  It is not “desperation” or “insecurity” that drives Christians to share the greatest solace of their lives, but rather the earnest wish that others may also rest in this solace.

Ironically, though Musci speaks of judgment passed, he himself passes a scathing judgment: that Christians are looking to disparage you simply by asking you what you think about Jesus. 

And does it not “reek of insecurity” that Musci cannot accept a mere s’more without suspicion?  Yes, Christians can offer their faith in the way they lead their lives.  That is wonderful.  But some pair the offer of their faith with the offer of some other sort of fellowship.  Campus Crusade would not offer s’mores if s’mores did not draw the doubtful into their ministry.  Musci disdains Crusade without so much as a thought that Crusade may be helping some to “believe in something again,” just as Musci’s friend helps him. 

Musci’s sarcasm, while amusing, is dangerous in that it only deepens the schism between believers and non-believers.  Sarcasm begets sarcasm in those who might otherwise seek. 

—

And I could go on.  There were no Campus Crusaders lying in wait on the quad to fling flaming s’mores at unsuspecting atheists and agnostics until they admitted Jesus into their lives.  Campus Crusade wasn’t doing anything his Jewish buddy wasn’t doing.  They weren’t using s’mores as a manipulator or a marketing tool.  There was no fine print.  Campus Crusade, a Christian ministry, was offering food and conversation to those who wished to accept.  Anyone attending an event sponsered by a Christian group should be prepared to answer, in a mature and straightforward way, questions about his beliefs, just as a Christian attending a meeting of atheists should be prepared to answer questions about his beliefs.  Musci has got some growing up to do if he thinks he’s exempt.  And he’s got some growing up to do if he views an invitation to eat s’mores as a threat. 

Just eat the s’mores, fool!