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Authors: Roy Blount Jr.
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tell them, “33 percent of the American people—
at least
33 percent of the American people—are liable to believe anything. Especially if they are asked whether they believe it or not on the telephone, by a stranger in a snide or scientific tone of voice.”
“But it's incredible!” a Northeastern person might exclaim. “It's beyond belief!”
“Not to people who believe it,” I point out. “And nothing confirms the beliefs of the credulous more than for disbelievers to tell them that their beliefs are unbelievable. After all, when you think about it, how would believers expect disbelievers to look at believers? In disbelief. The more you tell them they can't possibly believe such a thing, the more they enjoy looking like the Reverend Jerry Falwell. Where the drastically faithful have gained ground in recent years is in the area of being astounding rather than astound-ed. They have come to realize that a sanctified person who chuckles calmly can get a rationalist's goat. The more you demonize them, the less they have to strain to demonize you. Why should the wild-eyed be insecure, these days? They appeal to far bigger multitudes than the keen eyed do. When it comes to sheer popularity, their books are cheerleader captains and the ones we read are pimply nerds.”
“What I'd like someone to explain,” a Northeastern person may cry out rhetorically, “is how Israel can welcome the support of people whose express belief is that after Armageddon all Jews will either convert or be burned?”
I respond by way of a parable:
“Say you're running a business that is hard-pressed to stay afloat, andsomeone cordially offers you substantial backing, and the only catch is, this person subscribes to the prophecy that in due time you will sprout gills and become a fish. From your standpoint, the prophecy is crazy, the due time open-ended and the money for real. Are you going to waste time arguing with them?”
“But Christians,” says a Northeastern person who (like me) worships on Sunday morning by reading
The New York Times
(our faith in it has been tested, but testing to us skeptics is as mud is to pigs), “are supposed to be peace-loving, and inclusive, and…”
“Uh,” I respond. “Read any history of Christian civ lately? And speaking of inclusive, did you ever sing along with Bob Dylan, ‘Something is happening here, but you don't know what it is, do you Mister Jones’? Not to mention, speaking of irrational beliefs, ‘Everybody must get stoned.’ Not that there haven't been times when I was in favor of getting stoned,
voluntarily.
And speaking of inclusive again, when Democrats have been elected president it's been by an illogical coalition of liberals, labor, African Americans, and the South. Whence, except from blind faith, cometh the assumption that the president of the United States ought naturally to be somebody who thinks like we do? Much as I would like to see it, I can't think of any examples. We need strange bedfellows.”
Lucid as this analysis is, it wins no converts. Up here, after all, I am someone who is from the South and probably still has a lot of red state in him. As back home I am someone who went off up North and turned blue. In an age of zeal, who can afford to be broad-minded about the more zealous? Sometimes people look at me as if I think I'm the only person who will get Raptured, which would explain why I evidently spend so little on clothes.
The Rapture, I say, is sort of like the revolution during the sixties. That doesn't get me anywhere.
I do believe I score a point against zeal, though, when I wonder whether there are any more readers of Rapture books who actually want to
get
Raptured than there are readers of Gothic romances who actually want somebody to rip their bodice. All this talk of Rapture reminds me of the preacher who cried out to his congregation, “Everybody who wants to go to heaven, stand up!”
Everybody stood up except one old man in the front row.
The
at least
33 percent of the American people—are liable to believe anything. Especially if they are asked whether they believe it or not on the telephone, by a stranger in a snide or scientific tone of voice.”
“But it's incredible!” a Northeastern person might exclaim. “It's beyond belief!”
“Not to people who believe it,” I point out. “And nothing confirms the beliefs of the credulous more than for disbelievers to tell them that their beliefs are unbelievable. After all, when you think about it, how would believers expect disbelievers to look at believers? In disbelief. The more you tell them they can't possibly believe such a thing, the more they enjoy looking like the Reverend Jerry Falwell. Where the drastically faithful have gained ground in recent years is in the area of being astounding rather than astound-ed. They have come to realize that a sanctified person who chuckles calmly can get a rationalist's goat. The more you demonize them, the less they have to strain to demonize you. Why should the wild-eyed be insecure, these days? They appeal to far bigger multitudes than the keen eyed do. When it comes to sheer popularity, their books are cheerleader captains and the ones we read are pimply nerds.”
“What I'd like someone to explain,” a Northeastern person may cry out rhetorically, “is how Israel can welcome the support of people whose express belief is that after Armageddon all Jews will either convert or be burned?”
I respond by way of a parable:
“Say you're running a business that is hard-pressed to stay afloat, andsomeone cordially offers you substantial backing, and the only catch is, this person subscribes to the prophecy that in due time you will sprout gills and become a fish. From your standpoint, the prophecy is crazy, the due time open-ended and the money for real. Are you going to waste time arguing with them?”
“But Christians,” says a Northeastern person who (like me) worships on Sunday morning by reading
The New York Times
(our faith in it has been tested, but testing to us skeptics is as mud is to pigs), “are supposed to be peace-loving, and inclusive, and…”
“Uh,” I respond. “Read any history of Christian civ lately? And speaking of inclusive, did you ever sing along with Bob Dylan, ‘Something is happening here, but you don't know what it is, do you Mister Jones’? Not to mention, speaking of irrational beliefs, ‘Everybody must get stoned.’ Not that there haven't been times when I was in favor of getting stoned,
voluntarily.
And speaking of inclusive again, when Democrats have been elected president it's been by an illogical coalition of liberals, labor, African Americans, and the South. Whence, except from blind faith, cometh the assumption that the president of the United States ought naturally to be somebody who thinks like we do? Much as I would like to see it, I can't think of any examples. We need strange bedfellows.”
Lucid as this analysis is, it wins no converts. Up here, after all, I am someone who is from the South and probably still has a lot of red state in him. As back home I am someone who went off up North and turned blue. In an age of zeal, who can afford to be broad-minded about the more zealous? Sometimes people look at me as if I think I'm the only person who will get Raptured, which would explain why I evidently spend so little on clothes.
The Rapture, I say, is sort of like the revolution during the sixties. That doesn't get me anywhere.
I do believe I score a point against zeal, though, when I wonder whether there are any more readers of Rapture books who actually want to
get
Raptured than there are readers of Gothic romances who actually want somebody to rip their bodice. All this talk of Rapture reminds me of the preacher who cried out to his congregation, “Everybody who wants to go to heaven, stand up!”
Everybody stood up except one old man in the front row.
The
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