are god's people funny?

Yesterday my brother Holden and his wife Hannah came to visit and partake in a belated birthday meal for Holden.

Holden has had a rough year - first he had surgery for a twisted esophagus (yes, they apparently can twist and yes, to answer your question, it is not pleasant). Then he was laid off from a job he was great at. Then Hannah got a brand new job and they moved from x, a college-town with a low cost of living, to xx, a suburb of xxx with a high cost of living (thus how Rye, doll he is, came to arrive on the doorstep belonging to Stella & me). Holden found a new job. things were going well. Then Holden was diagnosed with testicular cancer and in a matter of weeks lost a testicle and underwent major surgery. Of course the surgery was successful. Holden lost a shitload of weight, maintained his sense of humor, there's a good chance he and Hannah will be able to still have children 'the old fashioned way, and, as a bonus, he inherited one fucked up scar down his sternum as a reminder.


So it's been a rough year. And even in the midst of this all, Holden and I have managed to hold on to our alienation from organized religion. We're happy this way. It's not like we're out scoping public places for random groups of people we can accost and announce "Hey! We don't necessarily believe in god or organized religion, but we're looking for some people to hang out with and hey, y'all look fun! Wanna get together next week, just sit around and shoot the breeze? Maybe convert y'all to our alien athiest/agnostic beliefs?"

Inga, you might be thinking at this point, what are you talking about? Who does that kind of thing?

Well, I might answer, people who belong to organized religon!

There we are, the three of us, finishing up lunch mid-Sunday afternoon. Our plates have been pushed away. Our drinks are finished. Our coats are half-way on. And then, out of seemingly nowhere (but actually from just across the restaurant), appears a young woman, smiling widely at us, her kelly green sweater brighter, her braces the same color as her teeth.

Hmm. I'm suspicious, but mostly about my brain capacity. Is she a student from a semester or two past? Oh, no, wait - is she a student from this semester I don't recognize?

"Hi!" she greets us, the sing-song literally lilting out of her throat.

"Hi," we say in unison. Holden raises an eyebrow. I give him the invisible shrug. Surely if she's a student, she'll fess up.

"So," she continues, not missing a beat. "I'm like with the xxxx church" - and here she waves a piece of paper in her hand around - "and we're like totally looking to expand our youth single services. And, I'm actually here with a bunch of singles right now!" She motions vaguely to someplace behind her. "And we were thinking that you guys look like you're young and fun, so we thought maybe you'd like to join us!"

Yes, the exclamation points are hers. Ask anyone who knows me and they'll all agree - Inga is not an exclamation mark kind of girl.

We're quiet, all three of us, for a moment. Lil' Miss Chirpy McChirpy smiles widely, but her audience is not with her. Hannah lost a brother a couple of years ago in a horrible freak car accident. I lost my lust for the church back in seventh grade, when I missed five Sundays in a row because of illness - no one from the church or youth group ever called, but every week the collection envelopes showed up in the mail. After another moment of strained silence, I turn to Chirpy and say, "Oh, gosh, we aren't from around here." I turn the corners of my mouth down into a frown for effect.

"Nope," Hannah agrees, looking slightly apologetic. My sister-in-law, I decide, is a natural actress. One more thing to admire about her.

"We're from _______" Holden offers up, essentially confessing that while technically we aren't from _______, we are in fact (well, they are, at any rate) from ________________, which is far enough away for us to not be from a freakshow place like this without actually knowing anyone here - or more to the point, one of us living here. Now it's beginning to be clear to Chirpy that one...or all?...of us are lying. Is it a sin to lie to someone who is trying to connect you to god when you haven't necessarily asked to be connected to god?

"Oh, gosh, I'm from near there!" Chirpy exclaims, grasping at a connection between us. It's in her eyes, this realization that she could, effectively, snare us by common ground.

"Uh, actually," Hannah says - and I brace myself for the moment of reveal, the moment my sister-in-law rats me out by announcing that I live here, "we're married." She holds up her left hand and in a gesture of sheer genius, wiggles her fingers, making it clear that yes, at least two members of our trifeca are, indeed, not single.

Chirpy looks sad. She frowns. "Oh," she laments. She starts to turn to me.

"Sorry," I say apologetically, grabbing the nearest arm to me, my brother's, and hoping against hope that Holden looks more like a polygamist than, say, my brother. We push past, coats clutched to our chests, nudging the restuarant doors open with our hips, stepping bravely - and quickly - into the chilly spring air.

"Wow." Hannah braves a look over her shoulder. "I mean, if I want god, I think I'd know where to find him." She turns back around quickly, as though afraid to make contact through the window with Chirpy, thus pulling us back into the circus.

"Jesus," Holden says, not a note of irony in his voice. "We should have said we were in a satanic cult. That would have gotten her off our backs."

"Scientology," Hannah says. "Everyone knows to stay away from the scientologists. At least until Katie has her baby."

"For god's sake," I say. "Why not tell her we're Jewish?"

There is silence. "Good idea," Holden says. Because, really, we aren't Jewish. But here's the crux of the this (morality?) tale: why is it safe to assume, especially when proselytizing on a Sunday afternoon in a restaurant, that everyone there is Christian? That everyone believes in her god? It's like the standard greeting during the holidays in December is Merry Christmas, rather than happy holidays. I mean, what? Because it's December, everyone is waiting for Santa and the baby Jesus? No one could be Jewish? I mean really. Honestly. Do the fundamentalists have it right? Should we all jump on the campus band wagon? Would this make life a much better place?

Doubtful. Completely and totally doubtful.