Not Waiting for God
The Communist has never had any truck with religion. But a polite "not interested, thank you" has never been his style when confronted with any of the disciples of any God.
For he is as determined to convert them as they are to convert him. He takes it upon himself to show them exactly where they are going wrong.
My mother isn't religious either and she isn't took keen on anyone who might try to convert her. But hers has always been a quiet revenge: she would smile sweetly at any doorstepping Mormons, Jehovah's Witnesses or any other evangelical bearers of faith.
"I think you'd better talk to my husband," she would say, before showing them into a room with him and firmly closing the door on it all.
An hour or so would pass before the door would open and the Believers would stumble out, ashen-faced and blinking dazedly. They would leave quickly, and never return.
"I told 'em what's what," the Communist would say, by way of explanation.
So he brightened immediately when telling me, as I visited him in hospital today, that the Vicar had been to see him.
"What did you say to him?" I enquired with some slight nervousness.
"I told him I don't share his beliefs. Then I told him Tony Blair's a bloody liar. Then I told him about all the children that have been killed in Iraq and how, if there is a God, he's a bastard."
"And what did the Vicar say to that?"
The Communist paused dramatically.
"He buggered off."
Well, they say the Communist has had a minor stroke followed by several strange epileptic periods of unconsciousness. But, if this afternoon was anything to go by, there's life in the old dog yet.
For he is as determined to convert them as they are to convert him. He takes it upon himself to show them exactly where they are going wrong.
My mother isn't religious either and she isn't took keen on anyone who might try to convert her. But hers has always been a quiet revenge: she would smile sweetly at any doorstepping Mormons, Jehovah's Witnesses or any other evangelical bearers of faith.
"I think you'd better talk to my husband," she would say, before showing them into a room with him and firmly closing the door on it all.
An hour or so would pass before the door would open and the Believers would stumble out, ashen-faced and blinking dazedly. They would leave quickly, and never return.
"I told 'em what's what," the Communist would say, by way of explanation.
So he brightened immediately when telling me, as I visited him in hospital today, that the Vicar had been to see him.
"What did you say to him?" I enquired with some slight nervousness.
"I told him I don't share his beliefs. Then I told him Tony Blair's a bloody liar. Then I told him about all the children that have been killed in Iraq and how, if there is a God, he's a bastard."
"And what did the Vicar say to that?"
The Communist paused dramatically.
"He buggered off."
Well, they say the Communist has had a minor stroke followed by several strange epileptic periods of unconsciousness. But, if this afternoon was anything to go by, there's life in the old dog yet.
posted by Daphne at 9:42 pm
2 Comments:
Maybe you will enjoy this experience.
I called on a old fellow (as one of Jehovah's Witnesses) who said he was a Communist. He wasn't especially pleasant, but he was genuine, and unique. Didn't the fall of the Soviet Union and its satellites disprove Communism as a viable government, I asked. (It had only recently happened) No, because Communism was imposed by force upon a agrarian country. It wasn't the revolt of the proletariat, such as one might have foreseen in the U.S. at one time.
He had a house full of antique inventions, such as the Edison phonograph.
I homeschooled my daughter then. A few weeks later I had her out with me in the ministry. She was about 9 or 10. I stopped in on the Communist.
"So how's the discipling going." he asked (or something similar). "Just fine," I replied. "I'm sorry to hear it," he said. Had I not left myself wide open?
"So what do you want?" he demanded, more gruff than even his prior gruffness. Just as gruff, I shot back "I came to show my daughter your antiques!" He opened the door, let us both in, gave us a tour, and could not have been more pleasant! How often does a child get to see such old gadgets?
That story's so sweet!
See, I'd be lairy of a vicar by my hospital bed whatever my thoughts on religion - I'd think he knew something I didn't about my life expectancy.
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