Finally, I thought, I had cleaned out my Costa Rica church files and I could move on to something other than religion to write about. But, yesterday I had two Jehovah Witness visitors at my door, and here I am again. I don’t mind people loving and bragging about their religion – the message could just as easily be politics, sharing food recipes, or pulling out pictures of the kids or grandkids. I enjoy a good conversation where ideas are exchanged. The problem is the implied, or usually blatant, attitude that their way is the only right one.
The Witnesses must have actually listened to people like me over the years. All the bad jokes about them being obnoxious are really from a previous era. The ones I encounter these days are polite and mild in their approach. In my twenties – that would be some forty years ago – people would hide behind the closed door and hope the Witnesses would just drift away, because if they caught you they wouldn’t let go. The advice I was given in those days was to growl or otherwise vehemently slam the door in their faces. In fact, the majority of Witnesses are locked into door-to-door and street corner solicitation in the same way desperate and unskilled people feel forced to do telephone solicitation. They believe this is the only avenue left for survival. I can only imagine that such rude behavior as door slamming and nasty remarks inspire even further their conviction that the world is a godless place and they alone are on the right path. As a personal defense, maybe they mentally align with those early Christians being served up to the lions – martyrs for the Word.
Their communication tactic seems to be to ask an innocent type question that anyone would agree with, such as, Do you think that murder is harmful to children? People want to appear nice, in spite of the door slamming advice, and some, at least, answer the question. The question is always worded in a way to solicit a ‘yes’ answer. The content is not important, of course, it’s the ‘yes’ that is so valuable – sales tactics 101. If you can start with a basic premise that everyone agrees with, and if you keep the steps small and reasonable, you very likely can lead to closure. I remember one lady at the door many years ago who was determined to save me, even after I explained (politely) that I wasn’t interested. She couldn’t seem to grasp how I would want to deny the truth once I heard it. Finally, her companion literally had to pull her away. Somewhere back in those days of my wanting to be a kind person, I developed a tactic of my own, which I gleaned from their own dogma: “I know you are mandated to talk with me, and I know how important this message is to you. I have heard it, and I understand, and I am not interested.” There, I had sealed my fate in the eyes of God, and they were freed of any further obligation – for the time being. Witnesses keep logs and street maps, hitting the rejecting and reluctant in about three month spurts, hoping that the next time might coincide with some personal loss or disillusionment that might provide a door-opener.
Nowadays even my short I understand speech is not really necessary. Usually a simple, “I’m not interested,” is sufficient, which is too bad, in a way, because I actually am interested – not in the message (is there anywhere in the world by now that the message has not been announced?) – but in the minds of true believers, in the logic they try to follow. Once a team came (they always travel in twos) with a lady named Karen. There was something lively about her, a sparkle in her eyes usually missing in the others. She seemed to genuinely enjoy the encounter, causing me to reason, for the first time, that the flat monotones or the insincere friendliness of many of the others may not be from brainwashing so much as simple stage fright. The Witnesses don’t select their most suited, innately talented speakers; rather, everyone in the congregation is required to preach. Statistically speaking, some of them must be shy and feel exposed, wishing they could be anywhere else. Karen, on the other hand, looked like a fun person to be around, as if there was a good laugh bubbling up any moment. So, when she asked me what my beliefs were, I decided to take a chance and said, “Look, I do have thoughts about all this, and I love to talk with others about how we each believe, but the bottom line here is that you really don’t care about what I think, you are only asking that as a way to tell me about what you think.” To her credit and my astonishment, she came back with, “You’re right. I really don’t care about what you think. I just want to tell you about the truth.” At last, an honest sales person. Yay, Karen.
Another time, the team delivered up a man who actually did sales for a living. Each team has a leader. Sometimes you can clearly see the hierarchy, as in the case of a father and teen son who once came by, and sometimes the two of them may be closely matched in hours on the beat. In this case, the solemn one with the flat affect was the lead solicitor and the other young man was in the learning role, except that his enthusiasm for sales and closure got the best of him and he and I did all the talking. I learned that he and his wife had drifted into a kind of distant, dull marriage. Eventually, she became involved with the Witnesses to the point that he wanted to try them on as well. I imagine the impasse: share in her interests or lose her altogether. Now, he reported, they had common ground and a great peace and happiness in their marriage. He paused and looked at me expectantly. This was the moment of closure, where I might say how much I wanted the same. I’m sure he’d like to think that he planted some seed that day. “I’m very happy for you,” I said. “There is nothing better than sharing a mutually happy lifestyle – worshipping together, really connecting in your hearts.” I, in turn, was hoping he might see that religious compromise may not exactly equal a true heart connection. Side by side looking forward, is not the same experience as facing and looking into each other.
He was offering his life story as witness to his truth, while I, on the other hand, employed my own sales-resistant tactic: keep it about him. He was new in his religion and may very well have been sincere, but, in general, the Witnesses’ offer is not really coming from a fullness of heart. Each Witness wants a piece of the Kingdom of Heaven, a place and lifestyle – death style to be more specific – that soothes fears of eternal disenfranchisement. One lady in my Costa Rican village built several studio type cabinas on her property and thus generated income over the years. Recently she stopped newly renting to non-Witnesses and spread the word that she was looking for Witness tenants. One of her renters who eventually moved had been there many years and puzzled over the change, thinking they had gotten along well enough. But the imminent coming of the end of the world means that only Witnesses will survive the apocalypse and continue living as their reward. Perhaps the Costa Rica lady wanted Witness renters so there would be no messy dead bodies to drag off in the end. A former Witness wrote in her memoirs how she and her preaching companions would evaluate the houses they visited according to who would like to move in after the final accounting. She didn’t mention what to do with the dead non-believers, unfortunately.
They are told that preaching the Word is the only way to achieve God in eternity, and not preaching is the equivalent of going to hell. They are not interested in people really, only in collecting numbers of souls for their own sakes. The Baptist pastor in Cahuita shared his frustration that whenever someone’s poverty was a problem, the Witnesses sent the beggars and destitute to his church for free food and handouts. Once, as I was dragging myself home in the extreme and humid heat, lugging a backpack and bags of groceries, a passenger van pulled up alongside me, and a bouncy blond American girl popped out. She asked me if I spoke English. I was so hot and bedraggled, that I automatically answered, “Si.” She said they were from Kingdom Hall, the name for a Witness gathering place, and wanted to give me the word of the Lord. “Give me a ride,” I thought. But, “not interested,” was all I said.
6/14/12