Little pieces of salvation, written in red ink on tiny pamphlets, handed out at the Harvard Square T stop by women speaking without pause about Christ and his ever lasting love and your ever lasting damnation. If only it were that easy, really. To read conflicting words of faith and persecution in a badly written, misspelled hand out where the expectation is that light will shine down, the error of your ways will be clear, and blind faith will spring forth and save your constantly wavering soul.
I wonder what people two thousand years from now will say when they are studying the old religions of the 20th century and the crude techniques employed by the patriarchal church to keep people in line.
But the sort of devotion that it takes to stand for hours during the morning commute, attempting to make contact with people who try desperately to avoid contact with you, all in the hopes of "saving" a soul or two... it boggles my mind. I don't know whether to be impressed or dismayed. I do know that it never ceases to amaze me that there are still people out there who believe so ardently that they are willing to pass out pieces of salvation to Boston commuters at the subway.