Jesus Currently Gathering CVs for Happy Helpers

I had forgotten that they existed. It had been years since my last encounter with one of them, and for that reason I blithely boarded a subway car without first poking my head in to make sure that one wasn’t riding in that specific carriage.

It’s early morning rush hour in New York City. The E train is packed to the doors. People squeeze in, some wary of touching others (some probably happy to do so), but all used to the same old morning sardine routine. Eye contact is avoided. Glances are glued absentmindedly to the free copies of the New York Post that people have picked up en route to the station. Pages are never turned. Pictures of Sarah Palin and the Yankees are stared at. Heads are slung back, eyes are closed as people attempt to imagine themselves anywhere but in a train packed full of two hundred strangers, none of whom are most likely morning people and probably even fewer who were actually born in New York.

I squeeze in, positioning myself next to a germ-ridden pole and pull out a book to distract myself from the noise, grime and swarm of people piled into the train. And then I hear her.

“AND THE LORD DOESN’T CARE IF YOU ARE UGLY OR BEAUTIFUL, POOR OR RICH, FAT OR THIN. NOBODY IN THE WORLD LOVES YOU AS MUCH AS THE LORD. THE LORD IS EVERYWHERE. AND HE LOVES YOU. YES HE DOES. THE LORD LOVES US ALL. NOBODY ELSE LOVES YOU. NO ONE. BUT THE LORD…”

And so begins the early morning commute without coffee with the Jesus Enthusiast. Her loud, gravelly voice resonates through the entire length of the car, but ultimately leaves me disappointed. Had it had truly been a powerful voice blessed by god, it would have penetrated the metal walls of the carriage, giving us plebs a favored warning to squeeze into a different car. Preferably one where one wouldn’t be told that one’s best friend is Jesus and that without this unseen, imaginary bearded friend one’s going to end up in the fiery pits of hell. Such a miracle would have convinced even the staunchest of disbelievers of the presence of a higher spirit. If there truly is a god, such niggling early morning commutes that provoke murderous thoughts would be brought to a minimum.

For thirty minutes she proceeds to preach continually, her voice never faltering, as I sit there rocking back and forth, the sentence: “this would never happen in Japan, this would never happen in Japan” continually cascading through my head. I think back fondly to the Local Japanese Jesusial Zealots who occasionally came around to shyly enquire if I was ‘happy’ and whether or not I ‘knew god.’ They’d be easily dissuaded with a slight “chotto” and a swift closing of the door.

“OUR LORD IS EVERYWHERE. HE IS RIGHT HERE IN THIS CAR. HE SLEEPS NEXT TO YOU WHEN YOU SLEEP. HE IS IN THE BATHROOM WITH YOU WHEN YOU SHOWER…”

Kindly carpenter who died for our sins? Or creepy stalker?

No one in the car even seems to notice. I feel bad for the people standing around her who have this ardent lover of Jesus bellowing nonsense into their ears. But ever New Yorkers through and through, they appear not to notice. No one looks up or gives her the time of day, but she continues on, holding down shift F7 for the thesaurus in her brain to find different words to repeat the same sentiments over and over. Her thesis? Jesus Is Your Best Friend And You Have No Others.

I imagine god looking down, shaking his head, arms folded, brow knitted in embarrassment muttering, “Rats, clearly a bad choice,” as he strokes his beard.

Finally, she appears to run out of steam and she sits back down. Quiet and ordinary looking, she blends into the background once more. Just another passenger on the E train. But one that has incurred my wrath. God, meanwhile, strikes her from his list of Happy Helpers, and crosses off a few more who were previously on the “maybe” list. They have just seriously given up in any higher being.

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Published:
9.29.08 / 3am
Category:
amusing incidents, what i call life, unschoolish