Since moving house a few years ago I’ve been inundated with the Jesus crew calling to my door. I think The Legion of Mary headquarters might be lurking somewhere nearby.
Now, it’s completely fine with me if people believe in God – for my part, I’m agnostic. Show me proof that God exists (and isn’t a man) and I’ll convert. Faith alone is b*ll*x quite frankly and strangers coming to your door to shove religion down your throat is even worse.
My first encounter at my new home was when a semi-bearded holy-Joe called to my door one summer’s evening. His tight gingham shirt was grubby, his beard was sparse and scattered across his face in a stingy fashion. He had a comb-over. I happened to answer the door while talking on my phone and with one glance I knew instinctively what this guy was here to sell me. I didn’t open the sliding glass door of the porch, I just smiled as best I could given the circumstances, waved and said “I’m okay thanks, I don’t need anything!” I pointed at my phone and then made to shut the hall door.
Without a word he held up a picture of Jesus – in the same way that a policeman holds up his badge when calling to deliver some horrible news or a warrant to search the premises. I looked at the postcard of our Saviour’s wan face pressed up against the glass. God help me for being so rude, but the temptation was too much and I pointed at the sign above the letterbox that read “No Junk Mail Please“. Gingham-man looked back at me sadly and somewhat befuddled and I elaborated “that includes messages from Jesus”.
I had to shut the hall door very quickly as I couldn’t deal with my mischief. I cracked up laughing. Yes, its a very childish way to behave, and at the age of 45 I should have been beyond it, but I wasn’t. Last night two more people came to the door, evidently oblivious to the stance I take on the force-feeding of religion to the great unwashed. Over the din of my dogs barking and howling, an old couple stood grinning and attempting to look sweet on my doorstep. I could just about hear them – they had to shout through the glass such was my dogs’ tomfoolery. I knew damn well what they were up to. I’m pretty sure they didn’t want to deliver the word of God by roaring over the yowling of three dogs, but deliver it they did: they told me that they were Catholics and they were going house to house in order to persuade the Irish people to live their religion through practice on a daily basis.
Were these two for real – going door to door with this cock and bull? For God’s sake!
I was tempted to ask them if they had lost their minds but my dinner was going cold in front of Home and Away. I’m starting to wonder if “devout” is a by-word for “insanity”. Or even a by-word for pushy, hard-necked, interfering, busy-bodies who can’t pull their whisks out of other people’s lives. I’m generally a nice person but I think this is pretty cheeky. If I went door to door flogging a load of horse manure I would be amazed if even one person in a thousand would give me the time of day let alone only respond by slamming their door in my face. In fact I’d be very nervous if I got one person to hear me out – I’d worry that they were up to no good, possibly sociopathic or worse! It doesn’t bear thinking about. Just look at the kind of lunatics blogging on the internet and you’ll know what I mean.