Papa, don’t preach
I believe in God. For all its worth, I attend Mass every week. I serve in our charismatic community and I believe Someone higher is responsible for my ups and I, for my downs.
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To give you context, you are in a jeepney and you see an acquaintance about to board it. Instantly you say “Sh-t!”—a word manifesting both horror and a crisis. You pretend to sleep but deep inside, you start to pray: “Lord, please, no. Don’t let us be in the same ride, at least not today.”
Does this situation sound familiar to you?
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Last week was like hell, not because of my workload but because of inadequate rest. It was only on Tuesday night that I had a good sleep and felt excited to work on Wednesday morning. Then my day’s little surprise appeared in the form of a man—a friend of a friend, looking mid-30s and, by all means, just another person I know prima facie to be working in Makati as well.
I thought it would be an ordinary day, but I was wrong. While we were heading to Buendia in an FX, he asked me what my religion is and where I go to church. I told him I go to The Feast PICC under the leadership of Bro. Bo Sanchez. He said that he knows the congregation and that he attends the one adjacent to it, Day by Day Christian Church by Pastor Ed Lapiz.
It was a pleasant surprise, so I smiled a little then continued staring at the distance.
I was not really keen on knowing more about this man, not because he is uninteresting or I am judgmental, but because people just don’t do that in the morning. (Honestly, though, he seemed a little uninteresting and I am partly judgmental.) Commuters belonging to the workforce are never cheerful in the morning. Show me one and I bet it’s his first day at work. We’ll monitor this person the day after.
Without asking my permission, this man started introducing me to his church—what they do and what they advocate. He earned a piece of my elusive attention when he said that he has been to The Feast PICC a couple of times and that he knows Bro. Bo. He then recalled how he came to know God back in high school, and how he cried when he discovered the true meaning of accepting Jesus as your Lord and personal Savior. He also reminded me that no matter how hard we try, we can never be perfectly deserving of His love, hence we are awarded with grace. He even recalled how Adam and Eve ate the forbidden fruit despite God’s command and what it meant when He punished these two for their disobedience.
Seriously, he lost me at his high school salvation story. I didn’t respond to his bullet points. When I sensed that he would not stop anytime soon, I only gave him an occasional nod without looking him in the eyes. When I talk to a person without looking at him/her pointblank, I have serious problems with the conversation.
I thought he would sense my indifference to his topic. “Not on a Wednesday morning, please,” I kept telling myself. I was holding my patience and fervently hoping he saw my distorted, inattentive face, but all I had was hope. What good is that to stop a man from recounting his 20-year “I am changed” story?
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He sat beside me in our next ride bound for Pasong Tamo, ostensibly so we could hear each other. Gosh! This man didn’t realize that there was no conversation happening, only a preaching session! One-way communication (if you can call it communication at all)!
He spoke about how, as humans, we should repent for our sins in preparation for the second coming of Christ. Yes, he said we were already in the Book of Revelations as we were lining up for our last jeepney ride. I am guilty of not reading the Bible (yet), but I am very aware that the Revelations is the last book in it—hence, a very lengthy sharing such as his can be very overwhelming (I’d like to repeat the word “very” but I know you get my point).
He said there will come a time when believers of God will be saved (and disappear) from this world, and the nonbelievers will be put to a test so they can also be saved, and if they resist, they will suffer worse. He mentioned our departed beloved rising and going somewhere (I don’t know how to continue the story; I was busy switching glances at passersby and the stressed Makati corners). Now this part of the conversation I found interesting enough, so I looked at him for a millisecond: He said there will be a golden city (2,000 kilometers x 2,000 km) where believers will go—a place where only peace and happiness reign. He even asked me to search for it on YouTube—I forgot the term the moment he requested that I look it up on the Net.
He even sent me a recording of Pastor Ed’s preaching. I should listen to it to be inspired and be informed, he said. Oh dear, this man and what he’s asking me to do are unbelievable! Before we parted, he requested that I also talk about my faith—the good word—with other people. We all know where this is going: I nodded while thinking, “No way! I will never force someone to listen to me unless he expresses interest in the topic, most especially if it’s about faith and religion.”
I felt sorry for this man because he was genuinely enjoying what he was doing. I could tell he is a good son of God, a proud one even, for preaching to me for more than an hour. However, I was not prepared for his word, or His words, that morning. See, if I want to listen to God’s word in a particular moment, I’d play my Bo Sanchez recordings and silently pray afterwards. But I didn’t do it that morning. I don’t on most mornings.
His monologue was more than what my restless, sensitive mind and body could process. At one point I felt guilty for not cutting him short while we were still in the FX. But can you blame me for giving him the benefit of the doubt? I thought that at his age and given his experience, he would know when people are listening and when they are not.
I am a regular churchgoer and I strongly believe Someone higher is in control of my life. But reiterating that without my consent is way too insensitive. It’s sad he didn’t realize that what he was doing was actually unattractive. If preaching unsolicited can turn the faithful ones off, imagine what negative impression it gives to nonbelievers, atheists, naturalists, existentialists, or whoever else who don’t entertain the presence of the Divine.
That is what exactly made me sad throughout our ride(s). His intentions were pure but the execution was bad, and he was not aware of it.
At the end of the day I admired that he remains proud of his beliefs. But I strongly believe that sharing faith becomes successful only when two people, the sharer and the listener, cooperate. After all, what good is there in storytelling if the narrator doesn’t have an audience? And what’s the use of the Good Word if you will put your audience in a bad mood?
I also had one of the most awkward epiphanies during his recitation: While he was introducing God to me, I was calling on the same God to make him stop in an instant.
Does this also sound familiar to you?
Rossielle Manicad, 23, works in a public relations agency in Makati. He says he commutes to work 7-8 a.m. and seldom smiles at his fellow passengers.
