Confederation of the Most Holy Redeemer, Or The Silent Scream

Jesus seems to be following me everywhere, and I don’t mean that hot young Mexican dude whose pious parents decided to name him after the most holy of holy. I am talking about the divine man himself--you know the one-- that guy who is on all the T-shirts.


Anyway, this is not the first time I have had the honor to come face to face with Jesus and his busy band of PR reps. When I was nine years old, I was a passenger on my beloved grandmother’s spiritual journey. She went from church to church looking for some sanctified purpose in life and I went with her because I loved her and she always took us out to breakfast after a morning of worship and speaking in tongues.


With every visit to a new church someone from the pulpit would point to us in the crowd and implore us in their most ominous voice to “accept the lord Jesus as your personal savior” or something to that effect. Between us (my sister included), we have been “saved” about 654 times.


I am not sure why my grandmother “saved” herself so often, but I know why I did. I had developed a healthy fear of Satan-- having seen the Exorcist, Friday the 13th, Halloween and some really scary movie about a woman trapped in some mental ward. It was called “The Silent Scream.”

So, been there, done that.

But lately, in my pollution filled days here in Hong Kong, it seems like everyone I meet is on a mission to save me. I have been invited to attend church, bible studies, and women’s scripture groups. Its like my soul is on 80 percent markdown at an after Christmas Day sale.


Look, I respect god and Jesus and Adonai and the Prophet and Shiva and Ganesha and Buddha and the laws of the universe, and the we are all one philosophy. I support responsibly practiced religions and accommodating, tolerant faiths.

But can’t a girl get an invitation to a book club that isn’t reading the Bible?