pawning her dignity

She lived in an attic apartment above a dry cleaner in the red light district of a city whose inhabitants walked around muttering to themselves and pulling punches whenever they weren’t busy getting tired of waiting around for absolutely nothing.

One day, while feeling somewhat virtuous after dropping a quarter into a blind man’s cup on the anniversary of St. Peter’s imprisonment and deliverance, she suddenly recalled a proverb she’d learned in catechism years ago:

“If you see a blind man, kick him.  Why should you be kinder than God?”

She remembered the sister explaining it like this: “In other words, if somebody suffers, God must have had a good reason for making them suffer.”

“But what kind of God would do a thing like that?” she asked the sister.

The sister gave her a stern look.  “Child, you are in no position to question God’s will.  You can go to hell for asking questions like that.  You must learn how to be so comforted.  Are you comforted by Jesus?  Do you go to church and say I’m not very bright, but I believe you are God’s son.  I do believe You died for me, Lord.’  Do you do that?”

“Whoops,” she said.  “You got me there, sister,” the following week, she became a Buddhist.