Selective Reading

“We are all flawed and creatures of our times. Is it fair to judge us by the unknown standards of the future? Some of the habits of our age will doubtless be considered barbaric by later generations — perhaps for insisting that small children and even infants sleep alone instead of with their parents; or exciting nationalist passions as a means of gaining popular approval…or allowing our children to grow up ignorant” — Carl Sagan, The Demon-Haunted World

My weekend ritual for several years in childhood was to visit either a 7/11 or proper comic book shop to pick up a couple of new issues to read. My father indulged my budding addiction to Batman and Spider-Man since, hey, it was still reading and definitely better than watching TV.

I fondly remember those car rides with Dad.

My mother sought to inspire a similar interest in the Good Book in me. Using her powers of reason, she purchased an illustrated Bible for me to read, thinking that the charm of comic book art would extend to the Word.

I didn’t get more than about 5 pages into this.

Aside from anatomically accurate renderings of Eve, this volume held little of interest to me.

Meet me by the Tree of Knowledge at recess.

At the time, I simply trusted that the “Word of God” was true.

This truth was what the adults, some of whom wore suits and commanded an audience of dozens every Sunday, said was true. Some of them even had TV shows, so what they had to say must be right.

Right?

Of course, their sermons were about children’s obedience to authority, damnation, the impending rapture, violent video games and films, homosexuality, and other matters entirely absent from the texts in question.

This guy is still on the air. He is still bad.

Why would I interrupt “Knightfall” or “Maximum Carnage” to go deeper into something so obviously true: God exists, Christ was his son, and He died for our sins. Besides, wasn’t there a prime time Power Rangers special on tonight?

I knew the big stories: Eden, Noah, Calvary.

“How do we know that this is true?” I asked my mom one day.

“I mean, did we find the ark?”

She said we had.

“Well that’s it! That’s proof!”

I grew more skeptical with a little more education.

In 2013 or so, I was working as an in-home tutor in suburban Houston, TX. Assignments were made based on availability and need, but they didn’t always work out. Sometimes a client fell through because we weren’t a good match, but sometimes I’d pull the plug myself.

Among my last appointments was a young man who wanted to tell prospective colleges about how he, while on a mission trip, took an indigenous South American boy out on a boat. Alone on the middle of the water, he preached the Gospel to him, turning him to Christianity before returning to shore.

How many Hail Marys until I can go home?

Another’s mom encouraged him to write on his resume about the charity he worked for, an organization supplying diapers to teen mothers. The son jumped in to add that this was only to “deserving” teen mothers, not ones “popping out babies” left and right.

Charming.

One of the only families I refused to work with included the son of an engineer, likely going in a similar professional direction himself. I worked with him on test prep and general academic support. One day, we were reviewing some material about different religions. When we got to Islam, he dramatically used air quotes whenever describing what Muhammad “saw” and “taught.”

Had he been fair, he would do that for everything from Greco-Roman mythology to supply-side economics, but that wasn’t his aim.

After the third or so time, I had had it.

“Do you have a problem?”

“Hmpf. Muhammad. Islam. It’s stupid. Just some story.”

“The same could be said about your beliefs.”

“We found the ark!”

I rolled my eyes and sputtered out something about Constantine and the Holy[?] Roman Empire and historical contingency leading him to his confidently ignorant pronouncements, on par with a child’s reasoning.

“OK, so you’re not religious--” he tried to bargain.

“No,” I replied. “Just because I don’t follow your religion or endorse your simplistic beliefs doesn’t mean I’m not religious. You don’t have a monopoly on that word. The vast majority of the world has not believed and does not believe what you do.”

“…”

“Anyway, I need you to sign this form that says we had our hour-long meeting.”

I had to get paid, after all.

I have no doubt that he had a first-class education in calculus and chemistry at his private Christian school. Yet on the cusp of adulthood, of voting age, he trusted mythology more than history, and militantly so.

I called my manager soon after asking for a reassignment. We had a small meeting with the head of the firm a little later. There was no blame, no accusation against me, but I was asked what I could have done differently in this situation.

“I could have been someone else. My whole life, my whole sense of self, is based on fighting against that kind of thing. I’m not going to tolerate ignorant bigotry from some superstitious teenager. If he wants to spew that stuff, he can do it with someone from the same fan club. Not me.”

My prerogative was honored.

I asked how the family felt about it, and was told that they were pissed. Heathen though I was, I could teach. But maybe it wasn’t that. Maybe they took umbrage at being the ones “cancelled” in this interaction.

Who knows.

Who cares.