‘Look, I don’t have much to do with the church these days.’
‘Of course, I understand, it can be hard to juggle a career and maintain your faith, but you obviously take pleasure from scripture.’
‘Oh that? Yeah, well I was a regular at Sunday school, wasn’t I? My mother insisted on it.’
Duncan beamed. ‘How wonderful, so was I. As a child, Sundays were always a joyous occasion in our home – my parents were both very strict churchgoers as well, you see.’
‘Not much chance of you becoming a Hell’s Angel, then, eh?’
He looked baffled at my smile. ‘So how many hours do you spend with the book in any given week?’
‘Look,’ I said, squirming in the cold seat, ‘to be totally honest with you, fella, I don’t really go in for that whole thing any more.’
‘That whole thing?’
‘You know, Christianity. Well, not just Christianity, religion in general. I don’t believe in anything any more. Not sure I ever really did.’
Duncan’s ardour was extinguished almost as quickly as it had caught fire.
‘Why is that… Felix?’ He deliberately paused before he uttered my name, as though he were restraining himself from using a more appropriate one. From the contemptuous look on his face, that might well have been Judas.
There was no way I was ever going to tell him the truth, but I felt I owed him an explanation.
‘I guess there are a number of reasons, but let’s just say that in the end something happened to make me see through the veneer.’
‘Veneer? What do you mean by that?’
I held up my hands.
‘Look, I don’t want to argue with you, but I know the way that these conversations go. If we’re not careful then we’ll just get dragged into a debate where the person with the most faith wins, and believe me, right at this moment, that person’s you.’
Duncan looked smug when he heard that, as though it were the greatest compliment anyone could’ve paid him. However, since that wasn’t my intention I moved to bring him down a few pegs.
‘You don’t do this every weekend, do you?’
‘Not every weekend, no. This is just a small part of the work that I do for God.’
‘Well, it seems like a strange way to spend your spare time, if you ask me. I mean, if you really want to get beat up for your beliefs, why don't you try working for a living?'
It worked. Duncan became inert. A painfully uncomfortable silence hung between us until he cleared his throat authoratively. From the staunch look on his face I could tell he was about to head off, but with the policeman still lingering outside I couldn’t afford for us to be separated. Not just yet.
I lit a flame under the ice.
‘I’m only kidding. In fact, thinking about it, I suppose I can understand why you’re angry at that lot out there.’
That tiny glint of empathy was enough to engage him again.
‘You can?’
‘Yeah, well, consumerism’s our new religion, isn’t it?’
‘The High Street is one of Satan’s strongholds,’ he replied sternly. ‘Every vice is available out there. He tempts the weak-minded with the ephemeral pleasures of material possessions, offering them the sweet fruits without the pains of labour. It makes me sick to the stomach.’
I lowered my head when a couple standing at the counter turned and looked at the two of us. Duncan was oblivious.
‘Answer me this,’ he continued, apparently indicating the street, though pointing inadvertently at the waiting couple.
‘Where do they get the moral authority to covet that which they cannot afford?’
‘Yeah, where indeed?’ I waved for him to slow down. ‘Look, keep your voice down and lower your hand, would you. If you want to take it out on someone, then have a go at me.’
‘Why? What have you done?’
‘Well, I used to work for one of the companies out there.’
‘But not any more?’
‘Not any more.’
‘Why did you leave?’
‘You could say I had an epiphany of my own, but let me tell you, as someone who’s been heavily exposed to both schools of thought, the two are not that far removed from each other.’
‘In what way?’
‘Consumerism and religion both use the same techniques to attract their following, don’t they?’
Duncan recoiled. ‘Techniques? Meaning what?’
‘You know: insecurity, inferiority, fear of exclusion – they’re all just diluted forms of intimidation when you strip them down.’
He sat bolt upright.
‘The church does not use intimidation, thank you very much.’
I shook my head with disdain. ‘You’re forgetting, I used to be one of the fold, mate.’
‘Let me remember, how does it go now?’ I closed my eyes. ‘God is perfect. However, God will not allow imperfection in his presence. Therefore, in order to stand in front of Him when you die, you have to become perfect by cleansing your soul of sin.’
‘That is not intimidation, that’s our true purpose here on earth.’
‘But the only real way to fulfill that purpose is to allow Jesus into your life, right?’
Duncan acquiesced. ‘Exactly.’
‘But if you don’t allow Him into your heart then you face the consequences when you die: eternal damnation, the burning pits of hell, reincarnation as a telesales executive. That sort of thing.’
He didn’t smile. ‘Hell means just that.’
‘Not much of a choice. If you ask me that sounds like blackmail.’
Duncan studied me for a few seconds, then his expression mellowed. ‘I sense a great deal of anger and pain in your life right now, Felix.’
I threw my head back and laughed, but the sudden movement sent a roasting skewer through my skull. Carefully returning my seat to the upright position, I massaged my brow.
‘I’m right, aren’t I?’ he asked.
‘Right now, more than you can imagine.’
Sensing an opening, he leaned in. ‘Fear not for the answer lies in God’s love,’ he said.
‘I don’t think my pains will be cured with that kind of love, Duncan. I think I need something a little bit more, how shall we say, pragmatic.’
He shrank back in disgust. ‘Do you mind? Don’t be so base.’
‘Come off it,’ I replied, fully aware of what I was doing. ‘What are you, twenty-eight? Twenty-nine?’
Duncan looked down at himself before replying, ‘I’m twenty-one.’
I thought I was being generous with my first estimation. ‘Really? You’re in your prime, lad. Don’t tell me you’re denying yourself?’
‘Sex is for the feeble,’ Duncan declared. ‘The bedroom is Satan’s playground.’
The café owner appeared with two cups and placed them on the table between us.
‘Two tea,’ he said, throatily.
‘Ah, I already paid,’ I said, in response to his lingering.
He ignored me and kept his dark, bushy eyes fixed on the young preacher.
‘I tell you what, though,’ I continued, trying to move things along, ‘since you’re here, I could kill a bacon sandwich.’
At the sound of the order, the burly man snapped out of his trance and directed a murderous expression towards me.
‘We don’ sell bacon here,’ he said, spitting in my face. ‘Halal only.’
I looked across at the menu, which hung over the main counter.
‘Oh right, I didn’t notice that. Tell you what then, just make it a sausage sandwich. Breakfast of champions. You want one?’
Duncan shook his head. Not even he was brave enough to give his Lord’s faith such a stern test.
‘Just the one, then,’ I said. ‘And I’d rather not know what’s in the sausage, if you know what I mean?’ I winked, in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere, but the cafe owner was having none of it. He curled his top lip contemptuously and walked away.
‘Well done, Fel
ix,’ I muttered under my breath, ‘that means he’s definitely gonna gob on it now.’ With that in mind, I picked up my tea and studied it.
Imagining that we now possessed a common enemy, Duncan became rebellious. ‘What’s his problem?’
‘I’ve no idea, but I’d be careful what you’re saying in here. Even if you were talking about Satan, most people don’t take kindly to hearing the words playground and bedroom used in the same sentence.’ Duncan looked wounded. ‘Hey, it’s just a bit of advice. Anyway, moving on, what were we talking about?’
‘We were discussing your lapse in faith.’
‘Oh yeah.’ My reply was as lukewarm as the tea. ‘So we were.’
‘Brother Felix, you should not feel guilty about your weakness. You are not unique; in fact most people today lack the discipline that faith requires. They prefer instead to lean on the evil crutches of sex, alcohol and drugs.’
He had me bang to rights there.
‘Do you blame them?’ I said, secretly pleased that this was not a confessional.‘Maybe if there was some proof of an afterlife then people might be inclined to behave a little better.’
Duncan waved a finger at the sky and closed his eyes. ‘God chooses not to show Himself, my friend. He chooses not to give us proof, that is precisely why it is called faith.’
‘I’ve heard that one enough to see through it as well. By that rationale, if I believe I can fly strongly enough then it’s OK to throw myself off a cliff.’
Duncan scowled. ‘You are so wrong.’
‘Don’t misunderstand me, underneath all the blood and thunder I actually believe most of your lot have a good message: love thy neighbour; don’t covet; don’t steal; don’t kill. These ethics are more relevant now than ever before and need to be instilled in the generations to come.’
Duncan nodded passionately. ‘Amen.’
‘Yeah,’ I continued. ’Praise be, and all that. Problem is, you’re trying to use nineteenth century techniques to convince a twenty-first century audience. Look around you, we’ve moved on. We’re smarter now. To use marketing parlance, you need to rethink your communication strategy. You need to make religion an easier pill to swallow.’
‘True faith requires commitment and sacrifice. It is not meant to be an easy pill to swallow.’
‘Not meant to be easy?’ I turned to face him for the first time. I needed to engage him for this.
‘Just how familiar are you with the history of Christianity, Duncan?’
‘Very familiar, I’ve read the Bible from cover to cover almost thirteen times.’
‘Then you know that Christianity is an offshoot of Judaism?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you know that when it started, Christianity was an underground religious system.’
‘Of course. It was practised by the slaves against the will of the Romans.’
‘Did you know that back then there were a whole raft of belief systems and cults all competing for air space. Religions were ten a penny. You had temples lined up just like those shops outside.’
‘Yes, yes,’ he cut in eagerly, ‘and …and …and Christianity won through, a true testament to God’s will.’
‘You think?’
‘Brother, I know. Hallelujah.’
I sighed and swilled a mouthful of weak tea around my still furry mouth. ‘Look, I don’t wish to be the one that bursts that bubble you’re so comfortable living in, but do you know why Christianity really won out?’
Duncan looked blank. I set down my cup.
‘OK, two thousand odd years ago, the Romans practised a complete mish-mash of religions from Greek and other mythologies: Zeus, Ares, Aphrodite, Athena. You know the stories, right?’
‘If you say so.’
‘I do. Right, they were almost happy with these belief systems, but there was just one aspect they couldn’t quite reconcile themselves with: they didn’t explain what happened when someone died.’
It was Duncan’s turn to disengage now. He sighed and looked down at his bible. ‘Is this going anywhere?’ he said.
‘Yes, it is. Shut up. Now, you can just imagine how all those Roman emperors felt about this. There they were, conquerors of the known world, the closest thing to a deity here on earth, and yet they had nothing to look forward to in the afterlife. According to their religion, when you were gone, you were gone. Rich or poor, it didn’t matter; you simply faded away into obscurity, and that prospect scared the shit out of them. That’s where Christianity came in.’
Duncan proudly lifted the little book. ‘It offered the promise of God’s heaven.’
‘Exactly. The whole resurrection of Jesus and “thee shall be reborn in the kingdom of God” angle solved that pesky “what happens when I die” problem. It massaged away the insecurity. So what happened was, the Roman emperors took it out of the slaves’ hands and rolled it out across Europe, and eventually the western world. Christianity was, in effect, nothing more than a convenient ego boost, helping insecure people to feel better about their meaningless lives. Now, what’s that if it’s not an easier pill to swallow?’
Duncan flattened down the flick in his hair and calmly replied, ‘You’re wrong. It was not insecurity, it was God’s will.’
‘Fair enough, but I can give you an example of how this still happens today, if you like?’ I took his silence as consent. ‘Answer me this: are there any people in your church that were “born again”?’
He nodded proudly. ‘A good many of our community are reborn, yes.’
‘And have you ever noticed that the majority of these people rediscover the church at around the same time in their lives? Between the ages of thirty-five and fifty?’
Duncan lost focus. He was visualising the people in question. ‘In most cases that’s true, yes.’
‘Thought so. Why do you think that is?’
‘There are many reasons: some people say that God spoke to them; some people realise that the church is a good place, full of honest people and they want to be around such positivity; whereas others suffer a crisis in their lives, such as a lost one, and they need someone to help them through it–’
There it was; exactly what I was waiting for.
‘Precisely,’ I cut in. ‘They reach a definite point in their lives – either when someone close to them dies or when their youth ends and they reach middle age – when they suddenly realise they’re mortal, and that thought scares the shit out of them, just like it did the Roman emperors. It sits there, in their subconscious, just waiting to pounce. Most of the time these people can stave off reality by keeping themselves busy, but there comes a time when they can’t run any longer. They have to face up to the idea that one day they are going to die. But what then? That’s the sixty-four million dollar question. That’s when they lean on religion, and that’s why most of them become born again.’
‘That cannot be true.’ Duncan closed his eyes and looked away. ‘You are clearly without morals. Without a conscience.’
I shook my head. ‘Hopefully not, and I see through that technique as well. The church knows full well that appealing to an individual’s sense of morality is the best way of controlling them. Whereas, in reality, a conscience is nothing more than a burden.’
Now where had I heard that before?
‘That’s not true,’ Duncan replied. ‘Unto the pure all things are pure: but unto them that are defiled and unbelieving, nothing is pure; even their mind and conscience is defiled. Therefore a man without conscience cannot be granted entrance to heaven. You do realise that, don’t you?’
‘Look, don’t try that hellfire and brimstone shit on me ’cause it won’t work. If what you preach is true then I’m going to hell by default.’
‘By default? Why?’
‘Because God wouldn’t ever want to front me out. I’ve a few too many home truths to spell out to him.’
Duncan clasped his hands around the bible.
‘No brother, no. Whatever you have been through, whatever pain you are in
or whatever you have lost, God understands. You… me… we are all his children and this…’ he looked me up and down, ‘this is nothing more than a test of your faith.’
Little fucker was starting to wind me up. My head was grinding, but I wasn’t about to give in. I spread my newspaper flat on the table and opened it on a page showing an elderly woman. She was being restrained by several police officers but the look of grief on her face was awful.
‘See her?’ I said, tapping the page. ‘She just lost her only daughter and grandchild in that crash yesterday. That’s probably everything that she ever lived for gone - just like that.’ I flicked my fingers for dramatic effect.
‘Now, what would you say to her, Duncan? Would you tell her that God was trying to test her faith too?’
Duncan stiffened. ‘Yes, I would. I would tell her that what happened to her is all part of a divine plan.’
‘Divine plan? Are you for fucking real?’ I was past caring about the police. I was getting angry now.
‘Perfectly.’
‘Oh, you are just priceless. Seriously now, you have to explain this one to me.’
‘By all means,’ Duncan said. He placed his bible on top of the picture, and laid both hands flat upon it, as if to completely obscure the woman’s image. Then he began to recite from the memorized scripture again.
‘This world is meant to be an evil place, that is exactly the point. God created it that way. It was once perfect, but when the original man betrayed him, the Lord cursed the earth and anyone who was destined to walk upon it. I know, I know what you’re thinking, that it all sounds very tough–’
‘Hateful.’
‘Fine. But you must understand, Felix, only by acknowledging and tolerating this pain will we ever truly be worthy of our ultimate destiny.’
‘Which is?’
‘Living an eternal life in the paradise of heaven.’
‘Unbelievable,’ I snarled into my mug.
Duncan shrugged and folded his legs causually.
‘So, you ever worry that you might be wrong?’ I asked once I was calm.
‘Never.’
‘Not even the tiniest shred of doubt?’
Duncan closed his eyes piously. ‘I know that I am not wrong because the Bible speaks absolute truth.’
Felix Shill Deserves to Die Page 23
