Devil's Advocate

I glanced through the peephole at two women armed with booklets. An alarm went off inside: Jehovah's Witnesses!

Normally I hold my breath and play dead, but something nudged me to open the door. The devil made me do it.

"We are visiting to share some information -- "

"I don't mean to be rude," I said, "but did you notice the NO SOLICITING sign?"

They gasped in sync. One drew her Bible from its holster and spun to a dog-eared page:

"The apostles were no peddlers of the Scriptures [pause for dramatic effect] as the false prophets were. What they preached was the straight [pause] unadulterated [pause] word of God."

The other asked, "Are you a Christian?"

"I'm a student."

Their eyes grew big together. A student! Let us teach you...

So began a discourse on life, the universe, and everything. Of all things, God is distressed by stem cell research. You can't blame Him. The population being what it is, we should give up fission and take a crack at fusion.

One woman finished her lines, and the other took over. I squirmed the way I do when my mom won't say goodbye.

"I appreciate your conviction, ladies, but think about the consumer. How can I trust your views when the other faiths stop by later, equally zealous?"

The Witnesses fumbled a moment, then steered us back to stem cell research. So it goes.

I asked if retarded people get a free pass to heaven; they had a pamphlet. I questioned the parallels between Scripture and mythology; they had a pamphlet. While one spoke, the other quoted. They were slippery missionaries.

Perhaps it was the Stockholm Syndrome, but I started to feel a kinship with these women. I had opened the door on a lark but came to see that these people are a lot like me -- reaching for God as best they could, doing their best with this whole life thing.

Besides, it could have been worse. They could have been selling Girl Scout cookies.