“Maxwell, help me understand something about evangelical Christians.” I was taken back by Father Gene’s request to obtain religious information from me. I was a journalism major in college, while the good Father probably had twelve seminary degrees. On top of that, while I considered myself to be a Christian, I wasn’t so sure about hanging my hat with the evangelicals or the fundamentalists or whatever, since they didn’t get a lot of favorable press.
“Okay,” I said, “I’ll do what I can. After that, you can ask me about Martians, because I probably know as much about them.”
“Fair enough. Evangelicals first; Martians second.”
Mirna arrived at that moment with her eternally filled coffee pot.
“Martians,” she crooned. “Some of them visited me once.” She topped off our cups and drifted to another booth. Father Gene and I made no comment about her.
“So,” he said, “my cousin Bert—a very vocal evangelical—called me late last night from across the country, asking me what I thought about the killing of Osama Bin Laden, and if I was glad that Bin Laden was burning in hell. Are all evangelicals that certain about the eternal destiny of the dead?”
“I don’t know,” I said, “but I do hear a lot of that kind of stuff from people. But even if they tend to be presumptuous about heaven and hell and who goes where, isn’t it a pretty safe bet that, if there is a hell, Bin Laden gets the hottest end of the barbecue?”
“Well, I shifted the conversation with Bert last night,” said Father Gene. “I asked him about Adolf Hitler, and did he believe that Hitler was in hell. He affirmed that he did. I asked him why, and he said because Hitler killed so many people, especially the Jews. So here’s what I said:
“‘So, what if, in the seconds before he died, Hitler confessed his sins to God, repented of his crimes, and then proclaimed Jesus as Lord. What would happen to him then?’
‘He would go to heaven,’ said cousin Bert.
‘So one’s eternal destiny is determined by the transaction of a proper prayer rather than by one’s deeds. Is that right?’
‘Yes,’ said Bert. ‘We’re saved by grace, not by works.’
‘Okay,’ I said, ‘but, on that basis, if Hitler didn’t pray that prayer, he would have lots of company in hell. After all, his Jewish victims would be there with him, since they didn’t believe rightly. And if he did pray and go to heaven, the people he killed would still suffer eternally. Is that right?’
“Bert changed the subject and we talked for a while about the family, then hung up. Is Bert just extreme? Am I just a mean Catholic?”
Father Gene didn’t seem to be a mean person, but I had to admit that his logic made my mind fuzzier than it already was. I still was willing to bet that Hilter and Bin Laden got something other than a cloud and a harp when they breathed their last.
“I don’t think Bert is all that extreme,” I said. “The people I know who are like Bert do seem certain about heaven and hell, and I doubt that most of them have thought this through like you have.”
“Maybe not,” said Father Gene. He took a sip of his coffee and then gave me a look that I assumed was pastoral in nature. “Maxwell, I’ve seen you interact with Winnie. Forgive me for prying, but you seem to have a particular fondness for her.”
I looked over at Winnie who was still talking with The Forb. She didn’t look as attractive as she did on the day she interviewed for her job, but something still stirred in me when I looked at her.
“Maybe a little,” I said. “Speaking of Winnie, I’d better get started on my column. I have a 4:00 deadline today.”
I found it much easier to talk about hell than about my love life. I think there’s something wrong with me.
GO MAXWELL :)
ReplyDelete