I am going to be talking about sympathizing with people who are going through religious or moral crises that I cannot fully relate to. There are many other parallels that relate to gender, race, nationality, and more. These others are important… perhaps more important. But I am teaching a class in inter-religious dialogue right now so I am processing the areas around religious, faith, and ethics at the moment.
Story #1. Long ago I was an engineer and worked in an office made up mostly of other engineers. A majority were Christian of one flavor or another, but there were exceptions. We had one, for example, who was a very articulate and humorous atheist. We had great group conversations (“bull sessions”). Another, I will call him “Will” (not his name). Will was Jehovah’s Witness (JW). He was very dedicated to his faith. He described himself as a “Pioneer.” In the first week together (we were hired around the same time) we were in Orientation class, and he slipped a note to me that asked, “What is the difference between Sheol, Gehenna, and Tartarus?” Will was surprised that I knew the answer— even though he did not really care for my explanation of Tartarus. He liked to bring up his faith and beliefs in conversation a lot, but in the end realized that all of us were pretty set in our ways in terms of our faith adherence. Because of this, and corporate policies against active proselytizing at work, his pushing of his faith became more subtle. He knew that I was a Christian and was impressed (so he said) that I knew my Bible pretty good for a non-JW (even though he said he was confused how I could know the Bible as I do and not be a JW).
One day it was an engineer’s birthday. Our office had a tradition where the secretary would bring in a cake and set it for people to come in and get a piece as a way of recognizing the person on their special day. Will would never get a piece of cake. JWs are supposed to view birthday celebrations as a pagan artifact. (It is actually true that many in the early church did not celebrate birthdays, and I suppose if I lived in that exact cultural context as members of the early church, I would probably not celebrate birthdays either. But I don’t live in that context. I live now.) Anyway, on this specific “cake day” Will came up to me and said, “I am trying to decide if it is okay for me to have a piece of cake. You know I don’t celebrate birthday parties. But this is not a party. I am not going somewhere else to celebrate. It is a cake sitting on a table. I am not going anywhere else, it is in our office where we work.” Then he added, “I am telling you this because I know you can relate to the struggle I have.” I wasn’t able to give any sagely advice, but I am sure he did not want me to. But he was right— in a sense I could sympathize with him. I was raised up in a fundamentalist Baptist church. We had lots of DOs and DON’Ts, and an awful lot of these were given moral weight. In other words, it just wasn’t that “We choose to be this way.” Rather, it was often, “Being a different way is morally wrong.” While by the time I knew Will I would not describe myself as fundamentalist— have a bit more nuance to my thinking on some topics— I could parallel his conflict over to situations that I dealt with over the years.
That half of the story I could share sympathy. In another, I could not until many years later. Will seemed rather lazy. As salaried employees at a corporation, we were exempt from some things including the timeclock. Many corporations abuse this fact and require exempt employees to put in extra hours without getting extra pay. Because our corporation did an awful lot of government contracts, they could not do that to us. If the company made us work 45 hours on a salary based on a 40 hour (full-time) week, it makes it look like they are fraudulently underbidding on government contracts. Because of this, 40 hours a week and we were done… unless specifically asked to work longer, in which we did receive financial compensation. But for Will, this was not good enough. As salaried (exempt) employees we cannot be bound to a timeclock, and so how could they require us to work 40 hours? He kept pushing the limits on this and coming in late or leaving early. This continued for quite a few months, but eventually he was let go.
I just marked this down as just another of Will’s odd quirks. I mean if I wanted to convert people to my religion in the workplace, I think that would include seeking to have an excellent reputation in the workplace. It wasn’t until years later that I started to understand, perhaps, what was going on. He said, as noted before, that he was a “Pioneer” in his religion. I did not know what that meant, but he suggested that it was a pretty big thing. Later I learned more about what the term meant.
A pioneer is a full-time evangelizer. All of Jehovah’s Witnesses are publishers of the good news. However, some have organized their life to serve as regular pioneers, spending 70 hours each month in the preaching work. To do this, many limit their secular work to part-time. Others are selected to serve as special pioneers in areas where the need for Kingdom proclaimers is greater, devoting 130 hours or more to the ministry each month. The pioneers are content to live a modest lifestyle, confident that Jehovah will supply them with the necessities of life. (Matthew 6:31-33; 1 Timothy 6:6-8) Those who cannot pioneer full-time may serve as auxiliary pioneers as they are able, increasing their preaching activity to 30 or 50 hours a month.
https://wol.jw.org/en/wol/d/r1/lp-e/1102012154#:~:text=A%20pioneer%20is%20a%20full-time%20evangelizer.%20All%20of,this%2C%20many%20limit%20their%20secular%20work%20to%20part-time.
Assuming he was a “regular pioneer” meant that he was supposed to spend 70 hours each month in preaching work. Since full-time work is 168 hours a month, 70 hours is almost half of that. Adding other, non-evangelizing, JW member responsibilities means that to have a full-time job and to be a pioneer meant that he would be regularly putting in 60 hour weeks between job and faith. As noted in the quote above, many pioneers seek to simply do part-time work. Will was struggling with his schedule and figured it was better to try to skimp on his secular job because his religious job was so important to him. As one who sees one’s work-ethic in the secular world as part of one’s testimony, I really could not relate to Will. Now, I think I could. But even back then I probably could have if I had only taken the time to explore what he was going through. I could not have solved anything (probably) but I think I could have been a better friend if I had take the time to learn the difficult priorities he was struggling with.
Story #2. In the Navy, at Officer Candidate School, my roommate was Mormon. I will call him “Kevin.” We got along well enough. He did not drink alcohol and I did not drink alcohol. He did not drink coffee, and I did not either. Actually, I eventually started drinking coffee PARTLY because I got tired of people assuming I was Mormon. One day he mentioned that he felt bad that he did not go on his two-year Mormon mission. Of course, I was familiar with it. Basically, I nodded but did not have much to say about it. (So he did not go… so what?) But over time, he started to change— he told me that when he came to OCS, he did not bring along his Mormon undergarments. I think that was a new thing to me. Anyway, he decided to have his wife (yes he had a wife) send his Mormon undergarments. Unlike the ones from the 1800s, these looked an awful lot like the white T-shirt and “tighty-whities” that were pretty ubiquitous in the 1980s. There were subtle differences. I also started finding his undergarments showing up in my laundry at times. I did not really think about it at the time. Maybe it was a normal mistake. However, since they are seen as having a certain “magical” (if that is the right term) power associated with them, I guess I wonder if he thought they might have a positive effect on me— perhaps giving me a “burning in the bosom” experience. Or maybe not. It just got me thinking. He did towards the end of the time that we were roomies make a half-hearted attempt to convert me. He tried to get me drawn into the old chestnut, “If God is all-powerful, could He make a rock to heavy for Himself to lift.” Right or wrong, I did not bite on that one. (Many Christians, strangely, do confuse “all powerful” with “can do all things.” The argument breaks down as soon as one realizes that they are not at all the same thing.
It wasn’t until years later that I learned there is immense religious and social pressure on Mormons, especially Mormon men, to do their two years. To reject that was highly stigmatized. In my own faith, I don’t really have an equivalent rite of passage with such religious weight placed on it. Also, Kevin came from a place with a lot of Mormons, but was not a Mormon as a child. As such, that puts him in a different category from those who come from a heritage of that movement. As I said, I don’t have a corresponding situation that I could connect to… so I don’t think I responded in a way that was helpful. I jokingly have suggested that I helped make him a better Mormon. However, in truth, I do think he was going through a minor crisis at the time.
Reflection. When I think about the situation, I realize that part of the situation with Kevin and Will was not simply that I did not listen enough to sympathize effectively with the situation they felt they were in. The truth was that in the workplace (whether corporate or military) one just has to get along with people. One of those ways is to not get drawn into religious drama.
I think, however, that is an error. To show interest in what a person is going through, religious or otherwise, is a calling of ours as Christians… and frankly as humans. Asking questions and trying to connect with the person in their struggles doesn’t mean adding to the drama. It may be healing.
(Of course, if later one finds out that the person was sharing struggles just as a cynical way of drawing you into their attempt to proselytize— this can happen— one can gently but firmly disengage.)
