Said the Pot to the Kettle

An atheist tries to educate against bigotry by becoming a preacher

 

 

 

 

Said the Pot to the Kettle

Drew Given

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

            I am a living, breathing oxymoron.

            I was raised in a conservative Christian household. I was taken to church on Sunday mornings, Sunday evenings, and Wednesday nights. My parents made sure to get there early on Wednesday so that we could participate in Bible study before the service began. I went to a private Catholic high school and a small Christian college. Currently, I work as a preacher for a Christian church in Carmel, Indiana.

Over the course of thirty years, I learned everything there is to learn about religion. I know the Bible cover to cover. I’ve also seen every way the Bible can be used. I’ve seen people babble incoherently and claim that it brought them closer to God. I’ve seen rich people pray for the sick without donating a single dime. I should mention, Carmel is one of the wealthiest cities in the country. I’ve seen Christians use their doctrine to oppress an entire sect of the population and believe they are doing God’s work.

To put it simply, I’ve seen every possible facet of religion. It’s all bullshit.

So, if you haven’t guessed, here’s the reason I’m an oxymoron. I told you I’m a preacher.

What I haven’t mentioned is that I’m an atheist.

Sunday

I sit in the front row of pews, my right foot resting on my left leg and my hands folded on my knee. Howard, an elder of the church, is finishing up the last communion prayer before I begin the day’s lesson.

“...and Lord, bless Christopher as he preaches your Word today, and let him fill the congregation with the light of your everlasting knowledge. In Jesus’ name we pray, amen. Now as we pass around the collection plate today, I want each of you to give with love in your hearts…”

Howard was a long snapper for Purdue in the seventies. The way he talks about his playing days, you’d think he was the starting quarterback. He is still a big guy, but he looks like he hasn’t touched a weight since his last conditioning practice. He makes sure to put his check in the plate first, always with the writing facing up. At least one person has to know how generous he is.

As the collection plate is put away, I stand up and slowly walk up to the podium. There is a little shuffling in the crowd, so I wait a few moments to begin. Naturally, Howard and his family are at full attention �" or at least he and his wife are. His sixteen year old son Thomas is only there physically. I can tell by the expression on his face.  Can’t say I blame him. I’m only here because I’m paid to be.

“Thank you brother Howard for that communion message,” I open with. He looks like he’s trying too hard to graciously decline the praise. “I thought I would begin by telling you all about an encounter I had last week. I had nothing to do on Friday, so I went out for a drink.”

It was more than just one, but they don’t need to know that.

“While I was there, I ran into my old roommate from college. It had been years since we’d talked to each other, so we spent the rest of the night catching up. We talked about a number of things, but primarily the Colts.” The congregation chuckles. “He was also kind enough to remind me that I still owed him money for cable.” There were a few more laughs.

“Before I knew what was happening though, the conversation turned a bit more serious. The subject of religion came up, and then the subject of my job. While we were roommates at Taylor University, we never discussed our religious beliefs. Over our years there, we’d met plenty of people that were as far from Christians as they could be, but were there because their parents would only pay for them if they went to a Christian college. So, we came to an agreement early on that beliefs just wouldn’t be brought up.

“In other words, when he met me last week, he had no idea that I was even a Christian, much less a preacher.”

I’m bending the truth a lot in this story. We were the kids who only went to Taylor because our parents wouldn’t pay for us if we went to a secular university. Anthony had been an agnostic for years, and while I hadn’t yet decided I didn’t believe in God, I was completely apathetic towards religion. When I told him I was a preacher, he thought I was kidding. But I’m slanting this story to serve a specific purpose. Sound familiar?

“Once he discovered my profession, his attitude changed completely. All of a sudden, he seemed afraid to talk to me anymore. We’d lived together for two years in college. We’d never had any issue like this before. It took some prodding, but I finally got him to tell me why I was suddenly threatening. Can anyone guess why?”

There’s silence, as I’d expected. Even Thomas looks interested.

“He’s gay. He’s been thinking about coming out of the closet for a while now, but according to him, I’m the first person he’s opened up to. Now tell me, why did a man that I lived with for two years in college, that was at one time my closest friend, was too nervous to tell me something like that?”

Again, I pause, and again, there’s silence. I notice the extra attention Thomas seems to be paying.

“Because the Christian faith has far too often been used to promote hate and bigotry against people like him. The people that are called by God to be kind and loving to everyone are the exact people that those with alternative lifestyles fear. As Christians, how are we okay with this?”

There is a collective “amen” from a few members of the congregation. Howard’s voice is the loudest.

“Jesus says in Matthew, ‘In the way you judge, you will be judged; and by your standard of measure, it will be measured to you.’ Again in Matthew, he says that if you forgive others for their transgressions, God will forgive you.” I pause to let it sink in.

“This is what I have never understood about Christians being intolerant of certain sects of humanity, primarily homosexuals. Yes, the Bible says that homosexuality is wrong. That is a fact. However, the Bible also says that adultery is a sin, and is punishable by death. We like to think adultery means being unfaithful to a spouse, but Jesus himself says that if you so much as look at a woman lustfully, you commit adultery in your heart. Guys, raise your hand if you’ve never, not once, looked at a woman and thought something inappropriate.”

I stop talking and look around the room. All hands are down. This type of lesson is why, despite my atheism, I became a preacher. Many Christians �" not all, not by a long shot, but many �" will tune someone out the moment they know that they don’t believe in the Christian faith. I felt that the best way to fix intolerance was from the inside.

“I haven’t talked to any of you about how you feel about this issue, but given all the recent court cases involving gay marriage, I thought it was relevant. Now if you’ll all turn to Ecclesiastes…”

…

            I sit back down after the final song and Rob Baker comes up to the podium to give closing remarks and prayer requests. After a brief prayer, the congregation is dismissed. Instantaneously, the room is filled with sound as everyone gathers their things and talks with the person next to them. This was my least favorite part of church as a kid. I had done my part and behaved during the service, and my dad would repay me by socializing for half an hour.

A handful of people shake my hand and thank me for the lesson, tell me I did a good job. I don’t think any of it is genuine. They do it out of a sense of politeness, or maybe they think kissing up to the preacher scores them extra Heaven points. Or maybe I’m too cynical and they genuinely mean their words. I don’t know anymore.

I do notice something out of the ordinary, though. There was no handshake from Howard today, and it doesn’t look like one is forthcoming. I look around the auditorium and I see him and Debbie getting their things together without speaking. Thomas is staring at the floor. This is a little concerning to me, but I don’t put much stock into it.

The less Howard has to say to me, the better.

Sunday Night

The Sunday Night Football game is on, and I’ve cracked open my second beer. I’m just leaning back in my recliner when the bell rings. I sigh, pause the game (thank God for DVR) and walk to the door. Thomas is the last person I would have expected to see.

“What’s up, bud?” I ask, opening the door a little more and stepping back to let him in.

“Sorry for coming over so late,” he says, coming in and taking off his shoes. “This was the only time I could get away.”

I walk over to the living room and sit on the recliner. He plops down on the couch. I un-pause the TV, but mute the volume.

“It’s not a big deal,” I say, taking a sip of beer and unpausing the game. I mute the volume. “What can I help you with?”

He looks at the TV for a minute in silence.

“I needed to talk to someone.”

I almost ask him why he couldn’t talk to his parents. And then I remember that Howard is his dad.

“What about?”

I asked him out of courtesy, but I’m not an idiot. I already know why he’s here. And why his parents are the last people on Earth he wants to talk to right now.

Again, he waits a minute. I can’t tell if he’s trying to choose his words carefully or is just too scared to keep talking. I don’t press him.

“Did…did you mean everything you said today?” he asks, taking a nervous glance at me before quickly looking back at the TV.

“Every word,” I say.

“So…do you…do you think gay people go to Hell?”

Now it’s my turn to pause. I don’t know why, but part of me wants to tell him that I’m an atheist and that the idea of Hell is completely absurd. But something else holds me back. Telling him I don’t believe in God could work two ways. Either he realizes that someone who is well versed in religion, that has studied it his entire life, thinks it’s a farce and thereby allays any worry he has…or he’ll think any advice I give him is tainted with bias.

“No,” I tell him. “The Bible lists a number of things that are detestable. Among them are things that I’ve never met a human that hasn’t done. The thing you have to consider is that God didn’t write the Bible. People did. People who interpreted things in their own way, and put their own spin on what God wanted.”

I stop, fearing that I’m coming to close to admitting my secret. I change direction a little bit.

“I think the rules set by the Bible were set so long ago that they’re no longer applicable. For example, the Bible deals a lot with sexual immorality. Well, in those days, kids could marry as soon as they were of age, which back then was around twelve or thirteen. Asking adolescents nowadays to wait until marriage now is a completely different story. Hormones peak in the late teenage years, yet it’s considered irrational to get married before your mid-twenties.”

I shrug and take another drink of beer.

Thomas looks at his feet and played with his hands for a moment before saying anything.

“That doesn’t work for being gay.”

“No, it doesn’t. Again though, I think the key to that is looking at what the Bible actually says. It only specifically mentions homosexual women once. It dwells a great deal more with men. Leviticus forbids men to lie with each other as they would with a woman. Romans talks about men performing degrading things to each other’s bodies. My interpretation is that the Bible is much less concerned with men loving men as it is with men sodomizing men.”

Thomas mumbles something that sounds like, “I’d never do that.”

He realizes what he says, looks up at me, and blushes before looking away. I know that maybe with more time to let all of this sink in, he might accept my answer. However, I don’t think he can ever really trust me if I’m not completely honest with him.

“Thomas, I need to tell you something.”

He doesn’t meet my eyes, but he nods in acknowledgement.

“I’m an atheist.”

He slowly raises his head and stares at the opposite wall.

“What?”

“I’m an atheist. I haven’t believed in God since I was a kid. The only reason I took this job was because, honestly, I’m good at it. I thought I could make more of a difference in the community as a preacher than as an outspoken non-believer.”

He finally looks me in the eye. I had expected to see a little bit of anger, but if anything, he looked relieved. The tension that had built up before I told him vanished.

He smirks a little. “So when you told me gay people don’t go to Hell, it was because you don’t think there is one.”

“Half true. Even if I thought this was real, I don’t think people would go to Hell for things like that. There are people in this world that rape children. I can’t imagine that any just God would consider that an equal crime to being gay.”

“I’ve never looked at it that way.” He stands up to leave. “Thanks for everything Chris. You helped me a lot.”

“Don’t mention it. You can talk to me any time,” I say, walking him to the door. “Out of curiosity, why did you have to come over so late?”

He looks uncomfortable, but answers.

“I had to wait until my parents weren’t home.”

“Why? Your parents should be okay with you coming here.”

He shook his head. “When we got in the car, my dad called you a ‘f*g lover’ and told me I wasn’t allowed to talk to you…I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“It’s…Don’t worry about it. Drive home safe,” I say as he walks to his car. I shut the door, feeling extremely worried about him.

 

Monday

I couldn’t care less about the night game, so I’m reading The Fellowship of the Ring and drinking a beer. There’s a knock at my door. I open it to find Howard standing on my doorstep.

“Good evening,” he says. He’s smiling, but it’s not a friendly smile.

“Evening Howard.”

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” he asks, though I’m sure if he was it wouldn’t be a problem.

“No. What can I do for you?”

“I just came to talk.”

“Do you want to come in?”

“No, I won’t be here long.”

He’d clearly been waiting to say that. I don’t grant him the joy of me asking him why he’s here in the first place. I wait on him to start.

After a few moments of awkward silence, he says, with an air of forced calm, “Was Thomas here yesterday?”

I wanted to lie, but he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t already know.

“Yeah. He stopped by in the evening. Why? Something wrong?”

“I’m just curious about what you said to him.”

I look him in the eye. “I’m sorry, Howard, but he came to talk to me in confidence. If he doesn’t want you to know, I don’t feel comfortable telling you.”

A vein pulses in Howard’s neck briefly, and I notice again how large of a man he is.

“I’m his father. Whatever he said to you concerns me.” He takes a baby step toward me.

I stand my ground, but try to remain calm and pleasant sounding. “No, it doesn’t. Nothing he told me is any of your business until he wants it to be.”

His face begins reddening. I’m wondering if I’d be able to dodge a punch and run away from him if it came to violence.

“Alright, then,” he says, clearly forcing himself to remain calm. “See you Sunday, Christopher.”

I shut the door before he left.

Thursday

I’m working on my lesson for Sunday when my cell phone rings.

“Hello?”

Rob is on the line, crying so hard that I can hardly understand him.

“Christopher…they just found Thomas’s body in his room…he hanged himself.”

I lose all feeling in my body. My stomach clenches, and my heart tries to burst out of my chest.

“Oh my God,” I say, too shocked yet for tears. “Oh my God.”

Friday

            I sit in my office in my suit putting the finishing touches on Thomas’s eulogy for the vigil in a couple hours. I hear angry voices and heavy footsteps coming down the hall. I prepare myself for what’s coming.

            The door bursts open to reveal Howard, drunk with rage, glaring at me almost maniacally.

“YOU!”

He strides toward my desk, but I remain seated.

“YOU!” he repeats, sending a few specks of spittle flying from his mouth.

I don’t respond. It feels like my safest course of action.

“Guess where I just came from,” he says. He is pacing around the room. “GUESS!”

“I haven’t a clue.”

He stops, turns, and glares at me. “I just came from the morgue. They found something in Thomas’s pocket.”

He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper, which he promptly slams on my desk. He puts both hands on the surface and bends down until he’s face to face with me.

“Read it,” he whispers.

I unfold the piece of paper and read Thomas’s suicide note.

To anyone reading this, I’m sorry.

I’m sorry for the pain I’m putting you through.

I’m sorry to everyone except my dad.

Dad, this is on you. All on you.

I look up from the note. As a preacher, I know it’s my job to comfort him in this town, but I’m also not an idiot. Thomas talks to me one day, his dad the next, and then two days later Thomas kills himself. I can put two and two together.

“Looks to me like he’s blaming you for his suicide. So you think it’s my fault?”

“I KNOW IT’S YOUR FAULT! YOU TOLD HIM HELL DOESN’T EXIST! YOU TOLD HIM IT WAS OKAY TO BE A F****T!”

“Watch your mouth,” I say, standing up to meet him eye to eye. I would never hit someone, but it’s never been so tempting.
            “I’LL SAY WHATEVER THE F**K I WANT TO YOU, YOU LYING, ATHEIST PIECE OF S**T!”

People have started to gather outside of my office and stare. They all look horrified. I ignore them and focus all of my attention on Howard.

“So he told you.”

“Yes, he told me,” Howard says, calming down a bit, but not losing the menacing tone. “I got it out of him as soon as I left your house. He told me everything. About how he came out to you, how you fed him some bull about laws being different in Bible times, and how you haven’t believed in God in years.”

“So you beat your kid until he told you he was gay. Usually it’s the other way around.”

Howard drops his hands to his sides and glares at me. “How dare you. How dare you accuse me of hitting my son?”

“So one day after hearing you call me a ‘f*g lover,’ Thomas decides it’s the right time to come out to you, all on his own? I’m sorry, but I don’t buy it.”

Howard hadn’t been expecting me to know that, but all it did was make him angrier.

“I don’t give a flying f**k what you think,” he says. “He told me about your conversation. You fed him your atheist propoganda, and convinced him that Hell doesn’t exist, and, worst of all, that being gay is fine.”

“I told him my interpretation of the truth.”

“Don’t give me that interpretation crap. You have been feeding this congregation lies for years, and poisoned his mind in the process.”

“It’s funny you say that, because I’ve been teaching from the scripture.”

Howard sputters, and I take the opportunity to keep talking. “You’re the prime example of the type of person I took this job to combat. You’re so bigoted that you can’t even love your own son for who he is. You force him to come out to you, and when he does, your reaction is so horrible that he kills himself within twenty four hours. And somehow that’s my fault? No. He didn’t kill himself because I told him Hell doesn’t exist. He killed himself because you were his Hell.”

I finish talking, and we both stand there in silence, staring at each other. The hall is filled with people now. They’re all simply staring. No one knows what to say or do. Howard turns around and looks at all of them.

“Have you all heard this? We’ve been listening to an atheist pretending to be a Christian! That’s blasphemy!”

I hear Rob answer. “We’ve known.”

Howard stares at him, unable to believe it. “What?”

“He told a select group of elders the day he was hired. He told us what his intentions were, and we gave him a trial period. He was better than anyone we interviewed. The deal was he could never actually claim to be a Christian, which, if I remember correctly, he hasn’t.”

Howard is at a loss for words. Everyone is looking at him. He turns, spits on my face, and leaves the office.

Sunday

            Howard didn’t stay for the vigil. Not that we had expected him to. Nor are he and his wife at Sunday service. We had expected that as well. What I hadn’t expected was for everyone else to be there, despite knowing the truth about me.

I keep the lesson short today. I talk about God’s forgiveness and love, quoting everything directly from the Bible. I finish the lesson by asking them all to keep Thomas and his family in their prayers. I say it more out of habit than anything else.

I don’t want to talk to anyone on my way out of the building, but I’m stopped in the lobby by a woman I recognize but have never spoken to.

“I just want you to know, I’ve been to dozens of churches in my lifetime. I’ve never had a teacher bring me as close to God as you.” She smiles sadly and embraces me before walking away. I find myself smiling as, for some reason, tears start to form in my eyes.

…

            I am a few blocks away from my neighborhood before something in my gut tells me I need to speak to Howard again. Our differences aside, I’m still a leader of the congregation and it’s part of my job description to comfort grieving families.

            I drive the extra couple miles to his subdivision and pull up to his house. The garage is open, and Debbie’s car is gone. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not. I pull into the driveway and notice that the door to the house is open.

            I’m not a proponent of walking into someone’s house uninvited, especially when that someone recently had a violent meltdown in my office, but in this case I think it’s necessary. If I ring the bell he can ignore me. If I go in, he has to talk to me.

            I reach the door and take a cautious step in. Howard is sitting at the kitchen table, eyes sunken and bloodshot. There’s a handgun in front of him.

            “Howard…what are you doing?”

            I’ve never seen a truly lost soul before. But as Howard turns to face me, I know exactly what one looks like. A single tear slides down his cheek.

            “I’m sorry,” he says, as he raises the gun and pulls the trigger.

Reviews

[Marie]

This is a very interesting story and very good. I ordinarilly dont care for pieces this long, but it held my attentin all the way through. It's religious without being preachy and carries a terrific point. Also has a great--if shocking--ending.

[Drew Given]

Thank you very much!