Last spring I started volunteering at one of our local museums. There are a number of volunteer opportunities available but the one I enjoy most, at least thus far, is staffing the Information Desk. There is a nice variety of questions and it affords me the opportunity to interact with most of the guests. Working conditions are pleasant and most of the museum staff and volunteers are friendly.
Another group of volunteers usually on hand are the Gallery Assistants. We call them ‘Rovers’ because their assignment is to circulate throughout the galleries. They give directions, answer questions, highlight changes or updates in the displays and keep an eye open for potential problems. It’s like working at the Info Desk but with more walking and fewer brochures. Rovers are discouraged from congregating at the Info Desk and chatting with the Desk Staff (ie. me) or other rovers. Human nature being what it is, however, it happens. This is especially true right after the museum opens in the morning when guests are few.
Recently, during one such chat, I met a volunteer I had not encountered before. This is not unusual. There are more than 500 volunteers so I see unfamiliar faces all the time. Our conversation followed the usual volunteer chat outline; name? (Sally), how long have you been a volunteer? (2 years), what assignments are you trained for?, etc. When all else fails there is the weather (hot!) and the traffic (congested!). As this conversation progressed I mentioned I also volunteered as an usher at Symphony Hall. Sally said she had always wanted to do that so I explained how it worked and offered to give her the contact information for the volunteer coordinator. She eagerly said; “Yes, please.” That’s when this got a little strange.
While I looked through my phone for the information I’d offered her, Sally raised both of her arms above her head, palms out, and said; “My Lord Jesus Christ loves me. Jesus Christ is my protector. The Lord is my savior.” Then she looked at me, giggled, and inquired; “What comes next?”
Having been raised a Southern Baptist, I am not rattled by the occasional Pentecostal ejaculation but they don’t usually arise in idle chatter with complete strangers in secular settings. I looked up from my phone, smiled and said; “I beg your pardon?”
“What comes next? I don’t know the next line.” Sally replied.
“I’m not familiar with the prayer”; I replied. “It sounds a little like the beginning of Psalm 23 but that is ‘The Lord is my shepherd… not savior”.
“I don’t know that one” Sally said.
Just my luck, 9:15 on a Wednesday morning and the Spirit decides to descend upon one of the faithful and picks one who doesn’t even know the 23rd Psalm? Am I on one of those hidden camera shows? If this goes viral on YouTube I’ll be annoyed.
About that time some guests arrived so I gave her the email address I’d written down and turned my attention to the visitors. After what seemed like an uncomfortably long silence, Sally wandered off to resume her roving.
In hindsight, I wish I’d come up with a better response than, “I beg your pardon?” Perhaps if I’d said, ‘Amen’ it might have brought the experience to a more rapid conclusion. Not being my first visit to the evangelical rodeo, I knew not to say, ‘Hallelujah’. In fundamentalist-speak that is the equivalent of the chorus in Grease singing; “Tell Me More, Tell Me More”. It just queues up the next verse.
Harper’s Other Dad advised, in situations like this the appropriate response to; “What comes next?” is ‘Lithium or some other mood stabilizer’. I did not want to go there, however. I don’t recall whether it was Carrie’s mom or Sybil’s mom that said; “Beware of practitioners of the mind”. I take no chances. I am pretty sure both are friends of Sally.
Note to self: Email the volunteer coordinator to let her know I gave her contact info to a potential volunteer…. one with whom I’d rather not be assigned.
Harper's Valley 
Oh it’s Lithium now? How about some Thorazine.
Lithium has been around a long time as a mood-stabilizer. Thorazine is an old-school anti-psychotic….which might have been an equally good choice in the circumstances
warn the theater NOT to accept her as a volunteer; sally should keep her religion to herself. period.
I don’t want to put the coordinator in an awkward spot. She’s a public employee and religion is a touchy subject around here (as everywhere it seems). I just said she might be getting an email from someone who got her contact info from me and I wanted to make it clear that I provided the info but that should not be interpreted as a recommendation. Next time I see the coordinator in person I’ll fill in the details and she can make her own decision.
Sounds like a nutter, did you tell her about your fiance? Might stop her in her tracks.
It might indeed. Unfortunately she started ‘witnessing’ about 3 minutes after the first time I set eyes on her so there wasn’t much time to get better acquainted.
Sorry but she could not do that in Canada, she would get booted from the Volunteer group. Canadians do not like that sort of thing. In fact we have one like that right now at Prime Minister and the way things are going he is about to loose his job.
It is a tough area here. There is nothing in Volunteer Orientation or the Handbook that says one cannot share one’s faith. I’d like to think most people would assume it was covered by the prohibition on ‘inappropriate conduct’. The museum is a secular institution but it is not publicly owned. I did not bring it to the staff’s attention because I was truly more amused than offended and because, even though we were in a public area, there were no guests within earshot. Hopefully she would be behave differently in front of patrons.
I’d hate to have some evangelical talking head to swoop in and start screaming about persecuting a poor Christian woman by limiting her 1st Amendment rights to free speech and free exercise of her religion.
Symphony Hall would be more challenging. That venue is owned by the City and many of the patrons are not Christians who might take offense as getting a dose of the Word with their program.
Hallelujah. Preach it, brother HK.
I can’t say I am as virulently anti-religion as some of your other commentators. It wasn’t so long ago that the gays tried to suss out their brethren in public too.
There is definitely an evangelical line that people cross, though. Express your faith if you feel it is necessary. If you feel it is necessary to convert me, you have gone too far.
Agreed. And to be fair. I did not sense she was attempting to convert me. I the Spirit just prompted her to witness at that moment and it probably would have happened about the same way had I not been there. Like the proverbial (small ‘p’) tree falling in uninhabited forest, however, I’m not sure it counts as witnessing if no one is there to hear it.
At least she wasn’t one of those WBC bunch. Was she?
She wasn’t wearing a ‘God Hates Fags’ button. Usually I think those folks stick more to the sidewalks where the might get some media attention.
I’d just have said – I am sorry I haven’t got a clue – then smiled and walked off. I do that all the time!
Jean-Paul
itsmyhusbandandme.wordpress.com
Good idea! I’m supposed to stay at the Info Desk when I volunteer for that assignment but a quick trip to the drinking fountain or the loo might have been appropriate. Thanks for reading and commenting.
Oh my GAWD!!! (or some less inappropriate reaction). Why does religion so often cover for just plain loopiness? Carrie’s/Sybil’s mum was right – and she would have known!
If anyone would get the movie reference I was certain it would be you. Thanks for commenting
I think it was Carrie’s mom, H.K., but would have to re-read the novel or replay the video (necessarily having to jump the pig-slaughtering scene) to make sure – which, come to think of it, might not be a bad idea.
I would have had to bite my tongue not to laugh. I have a neighbor who I go to great lengths to avoid. But if needed an AMEN can end the conversation.
I had the same reaction about stifling laughter. It was just such a non sequitur. At least she was not speaking in tongues. That might have been unnerving.
That usually is a situation I will find myself in. One of the reasons I hate taking a bus, train, subway or whatever, is I always get the “may I sit here, now let me tell you how I was saved” aaaah!
I’ve not encountered them on public transportation here. We have a couple of guys who share the Gospel on street corners in downtown Phoenix but one only needs indulge them until the light changes from “Don’t Walk”.
My, dear, but it *ha*s be a while since you stepped into a place of Christian worship! You have confused the Lord’s Prayer, uttered by none other than the Lord Jesus Christ Himself, which properly begins, “PATER NOSTER, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum. Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra…” as the Lord God only hears prayers in Latin, I’m afraid. Hate to be the one to break it, but that is the real reason protestants are going to Hell, the Lord in deaf to their vulgar supplications… with Psalm 23, “Dominus regit me, et nihil mihi deerit:
in loco pascuæ, ibi me collocavit. Super aquam refectionis educavit me …” or “The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want…He maketh me lie down in green pastures…” Isn’t that special?
Ha! In the words of Karen Walker, “it’s funny ‘cuz it’s true”. Generations of Baptists are spinning in their grave over my Biblical blunder (now corrected btw, thanks!). I may be wrong but I’m thinking my lack of Latin was not the limiting factor for Miss Sally.
Tangentially, I listened to series of lectures on the New Testament, The speaker was describing Peter’s departure from Rome (That’s St. Peter to y’all…Protestants are on a first-name basis with him) saying he encountered JC on the road and asked “Quo Vadis” and made an aside; ‘it is unclear what prompted Peter to suggenly start speaking to the Lord in Latin”. I’d never given that any thought before. I just figured it was one of those “when in Rome….” kind of things.
Thanks for the comment.
I have reconsidered my lithium proposal and the proper response would have been to start speaking in tongues.
Harper’s other dads response was perfection.
As is so often the case.