You’re at a party and someone hears that you are a brain surgeon, so, immediately he starts lecturing you on neurology and his philosophy of brain surgery. He makes various bizarre statements—quoting his crazy opinions as if they are facts—and seems convinced that he knows more about neurosurgery than you do, in spite of your degrees and years of experience, and his obviously single-figure IQ. Why does he do this? Does he envy your calling, or does he just need to affirm himself?
Does this ever happen?
You are a navvy, diligently digging ditches, and along comes an obviously high-born lady and she stops and lectures you on the finer points of trench-digging and regales you with tales of her apologetic disputes with people who denigrated the gentle art of excavation. You look at her callous-free hands and think: “Naah!”; but she continues remorselessly to verbally assault you until you pray that the hole in which you are standing might miraculously enfold you in its funereal clutches so that you can escape this vocal blitzkrieg. You have to stop and remind yourself that you actually know what you are doing. This is your profession!
I doubt that either of the above situations has ever occurred in human history, but the following one does happen to me with monotonous regularity.
You are a student or teacher of theology and you are at a social gathering. Someone realises this and herds you into a corner, from which there is no escape. He then spends the rest of the evening doing one or more of the following:
- Explaining theology to you;
- Clarifying why only a congenital idiot would believe in God;
- Assuring you that all religions lead to salvation and that Christianity is very arrogant in its claims;
- Claiming that “Everyone knows that the Bible is fraudulent because some books (e.g. the Gospel of Judas) have been omitted.” The Roman Catholic Church usually gets a bit of a bashing here;
- “Defending” Christianity by telling you that most of the Bible need not be taken seriously because it is such an ancient book that it is scarcely relevant in modern society and it has, in any case, been rewritten so many times that its original message has been lost. The real message of Christianity is: Be nice to everybody.
Whereas some people, apparently, have “loser” written across their foreheads, I seem to have “Christian Idiot” emblazoned on mine. I attract amateur theologians like blood attracts sharks. Spot a theological feeding frenzy at a party and you can bet that I’ll be in the midst of it, like a chum sandwich tossed amongst the great whites.
This has happened to me so many times that I’ve lost count, but I’m still not sure how to deal with it. It’s usually in a setting that is not conducive to academic debate and, in any case, my attacker generally shifts the goal-posts so frequently that it is well-nigh impossible to construct any kind of cogent apologetic. It’s hard to argue with someone who doesn’t know how to argue, who doesn’t know when he’s lost an argument, and who has no doubt that his opinions are, indeed, all little gems of fact that are beyond dispute, despite the fact that they have just been snatched from within the vacuum betwixt his ears.
Usually, the only way open is to smile and nod, while taking small steps backward, until you feel the walls against your shoulder blades. That’s when you know that it’s going to be a long night when you will earnestly pray for the Rapture to happen RIGHT NOW.