Saturday, August 28, 2010

maynard.

I feel as though yesterday's post was unintentionally candid, and unmindful of more diplomatic ways to phrase my concerns.

But I'm going to go for round two anyway.

In conversation with my best friend last week, she told me that she felt like our relationship was unmarred by my new surroundings (unlike other of my friendships), because I haven't changed. I haven't "gone weird," and what really bugs her about Christianity isn't Christianity itself, but the fact that so many Christians feel the need to attempt to engage her in discussion about their, and her, faith. She is offended by being asked about faith.

Which is kind of a bizarre concept. Certainly, she doesn't feel the same about a rousing debate of Obama's policies. If someone made a case for Bobby Flay being more talented than Giada, she'd be in robust opposition, but would unquestionably accept the validity of the topic. Likewise with countless other possible conversational polemics (Banana Republic vs. the GAP, for instance, or, in her nerdy case, Classical vs. Keynesian economics).

Across the board, she might disagree with her company, but would not find the subject matter inherently offensive.

So why faith? Why is this the one place no one can go? If I argue against her view, I'm an evangelist, a proselytizer (both dirty words in my circle of friends), catching her in an unfair conversation.

I don't mean to pick on my best friend. I love and respect her deeply, and at any rate--she's just a stand-in for most non-Christians. "Christians can believe what they want, as long as they don't bother me with it," seems to be the refrain. "Who are they to tell me I'm going to hell?" I have to admit, I don't wholly understand this.

I can't remember all of what I would have thought or said, but I'm pretty sure that was not part of my arsenal against the Christians. I was more upset by what I thought I was a stopping short of Christ's love, than by a rigid defense of hell or domestic evangelism.

When was faith divorced from reason to such a degree that we no longer see conversations of faith as conversations that can be had on more or less reasonable grounds? That's really what's at the heart of this, no? My friend doesn't want to be asked about faith because unlike Giada and GAP and John Keynes, which she feels all have logical possibilities, faith represents to her what is the un-knowable. To her, any conversation about it would be nonsense, because there's no grounds for reason. Faith and reason are divorced in her mind. Which is unfortunate, because she's a very faithful woman. We all are. Whether or not we know and acknowledge what we're putting our faith in--we believe.

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