Every other Friday my friend Mary and I go check out a couple museums in the city. I presided over her wedding last year. For those readers who check out this blog often, you'll remember her as the most beautiful woman in the world. I met her in December 2000.
She'd just returned from Hong Kong, where she and her husband completed their family obligations by taking her family out to dinner. She saw all her school friends. One of them was having some trouble. Her husband wasn't a Christian. She didn't know if she could marry him, even if she was in love with him.
Mary wondered why this was important. "Can you imagine being with someone who wasn't a Christian? I mean, do you HAVE to be with one?" She was asking me.
"Well, as long as the person respected my work." I pondered for a second. "The issue is if the husband will support her or not. There are some men who will participate in the community life, but won't attend services."
"You don't think Christians are any different than other people, do you? I mean, you do think we're the same, right?" Mary's spirituality is yoga. Not much about the afterlife.
"Christians should have a different perspective that arises from their faith," I remarked. "But there could be people who were a lot like Christians but didnt call themselves such. But people aren't the same, and I do think there are differences between religions. Perhaps there are more differences within religions than between them." She seemed satisfied with this answer.
"but I have a question." She became very serious.
"What does it mean 'I'll pray for you'?" She hesitated for a second. "Should I feel bad? Am I not a good person?"
"She might just be saying she misses you." I said. I didn't think that was the correct translation, but Im not interested in creating a rift between friends. "or, you're on my mind a lot."
"But is she critiquing the way I live? Is she saying that she thinks I'm going to hell?"
"Well, she might be. Perhaps you are." She laughed at this possibility.
"What should I have said?"
"A simple 'thank you' would have sufficed."
"That's what I did. It just felt odd. I mean, I thought that maybe she thought I was sick, in which case, I should have been thankful. But I wasn't. And Shouldn't I ask for someone's prayer first, before they offer it to me?" In other words, what is the ettiquitte?
"Look, for some Christians, you're going to burn in hell. Your eternal damnation will depress them, especially as they are looking upon your soul in the vast abyss of Satan's kingdom. Thus, they are praying for you, because they love you."
"Shouldn't they be praying for themselves?"
"Translate it into 'have a nice day.'" I'm thinking wittgenstein. Language gone on holiday. "And if you really don't like it, just say, 'I love you too. And I'll pray for you also.' after all, they're just as likely to be damned as you are."
"It is just so weird!" She pauses "Do you really believe in hell?" Could this perfectly structured, full lipped, dark-skinned, english accented, lithe hong-kong beauty possibly be tormented by a loving God? Too bad she doesn't care enough.
"If there's a hell, we're all going to go." I quote. "I wouldn't give up such a useful doctrine. Where would I send people I don't like very much? How could I tell people 'go to hell?' if i didn't believe it? There should be a place for my enemies, including over enthusiastic metermaids, oilmen and reality-tv producers."
"Well, she can pray for me all she wants. I might need it," she decided. And with that, we pay the check and head off to Dia.