Bus Ride Evangelization
I don't own a car. Heck, I don't even have my driver's license. This means I am familiar with a bunch of tediously humbling means of getting from here to there.
It is the Greyhound that has led to the most interesting of trips for me. I have yet to ride it without finding myself in a deep discussion about religion.
I don't bring it up with the people around me. In fact, I normally try to sit quietly on my own, looking forward to reading or napping. Yet, without fail, a nearby passenger will ask me, "Where are you headed?"
Most of my bus trips involved me traveling back and forth from Our Lady Seat of Wisdom Academy, so I would sigh, having the explain what that means.
"Oh. You study theology? Have you ever read {insert heretic, buffoon or at least someone I have never heard of} here?" I say no. Then the person will ask, "Well what do you study?" At this point, I reluctantly turn myself toward the person, because I know this will be a lengthy conversation.
We pass around theological topics and then I uncover why the person is so intrigued by my religious affiliation.
"I used to be a Catholic, but now I'm a Buddhist/evangelical/confused about religion/not sure if I believe in God/stopped going to church when my wife left me/became an adherent of Sue Monk Kidd."
I try to say something helpful, insightful, or profound. I fantasize that this bus is his or her horse and we're traveling towards a figurative Damascus.
Yet all I normally muster is, "Oh. . . I'll pray for you."
Like I said, I don't seek out these opportunities. Not only am I lazy and selfish enough to want to be left alone, I am also fully aware at how terrible I am at these kind of conversations.
Despite my reluctance in being a Greyhound Evangelist, this most recent bus trip, I commented to my DH how odd it was that no one struck up a conversation about religion with us. I was almost disappointed. He shrugged, we got off the bus, and called for a taxi.
When the driver asked us where we wanted to go, the name of the university he attends, where we happen to live, must have stood out to him.
Before I knew it, the DH was explaining to the taxi driver what the difference between Catholicism and Protestantism is, what the Mass is, and what the Incarnation is. Our taxi driver, it turns out, was a cheerful, inquisitive Muslim who had specifically asked him to clarify all these doctrines to him.
Maybe I should start bringing my Catechism with me whenever I leave the house.
- Begging, pleading, looking tragic in the presence of those privileged enough to own a vehicle (this is especially effective when pregnant, I have discovered!)
- Public transit. I am a big fan of the Ottawa system (which means I obviously don't live there, and didn't have to suffer through the strike!) and the TTC impresses me, too. The HSR, however, not so much. . . .
- Over-priced taxi rides.
- And, for longer trips, the Greyhound.
It is the Greyhound that has led to the most interesting of trips for me. I have yet to ride it without finding myself in a deep discussion about religion.I don't bring it up with the people around me. In fact, I normally try to sit quietly on my own, looking forward to reading or napping. Yet, without fail, a nearby passenger will ask me, "Where are you headed?"
Most of my bus trips involved me traveling back and forth from Our Lady Seat of Wisdom Academy, so I would sigh, having the explain what that means.
"Oh. You study theology? Have you ever read {insert heretic, buffoon or at least someone I have never heard of} here?" I say no. Then the person will ask, "Well what do you study?" At this point, I reluctantly turn myself toward the person, because I know this will be a lengthy conversation.
We pass around theological topics and then I uncover why the person is so intrigued by my religious affiliation.
"I used to be a Catholic, but now I'm a Buddhist/evangelical/confused about religion/not sure if I believe in God/stopped going to church when my wife left me/became an adherent of Sue Monk Kidd."
Yet all I normally muster is, "Oh. . . I'll pray for you."
Like I said, I don't seek out these opportunities. Not only am I lazy and selfish enough to want to be left alone, I am also fully aware at how terrible I am at these kind of conversations.
Despite my reluctance in being a Greyhound Evangelist, this most recent bus trip, I commented to my DH how odd it was that no one struck up a conversation about religion with us. I was almost disappointed. He shrugged, we got off the bus, and called for a taxi.
When the driver asked us where we wanted to go, the name of the university he attends, where we happen to live, must have stood out to him.
Before I knew it, the DH was explaining to the taxi driver what the difference between Catholicism and Protestantism is, what the Mass is, and what the Incarnation is. Our taxi driver, it turns out, was a cheerful, inquisitive Muslim who had specifically asked him to clarify all these doctrines to him.
Maybe I should start bringing my Catechism with me whenever I leave the house.
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