Today on the metro, a nice young woman offered me her seat. Figuring it was good karma from my giving up my seat just an hour earlier to an elderly woman, I took it. Then, she introduced herself. Oookay. Then, she said, "I'm actually from Germantown, but I'm out today spreading the news of the Gospel. Are you a believer?"
I started to panic as I rifled through my mental rolodex of excuses. Suddenly, in a moment of unusual clarity, I said, "I'm kind of private about my faith." She looked at me slightly puzzled but responded, "oh, ok." And she was quiet for the rest of the trip.
Wow! That's all it took? I didn't have to be rude, I didn't have to engage in conversation, and I didn't have to line up a bunch of excuses. Because, if I had said, no, then she would have started to try to convert me, if I had said yes, she would have invited me to events, and if I had told her I practiced a different religion, well, you get the picture. There was no right answer. And yet, I found one!
I'm writing about this because I'm proud of myself. See, if I so much as get into a conversation of that nature, before I can say Holy Christ on a Cracker, I'm drinking the kool-aid. I know because it happened when I was living in France. A nice young woman approached me in the metro, started up a conversation, and a few weeks later, I was attended her "cult." Oh - she called it that. But, she didn't bring it up in the first conversation with me, so she was much sneakier.
Whew, I think I dodged a bullet today.