[Original Novel] Pariah of the Little People, Part 7

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Given what I read earlier in the day, and for that matter in the Bible the other night, that didn’t surprise me. I was beginning to get a clearer picture of what sort of person these people think God is. A world of ogres ruled over by the biggest ogre of them all. I knew better than to say that, so instead I asked why it’s such a serious offense.

“Men cannot make children with other men! Only with women. If we were all gay, there would soon be no more humans left.” I asked if absolutely every human on the Earth was ever likely to spontaneously turn gay, or if instead it’s an extremely tiny percentage of people.

He admonished me to ‘be serious’, though I was. I then asked if there’s some pressing shortage of humans on the planet, that we badly need more. “Isn’t it the opposite?” I said. “We have too many, if anything.” More picking at nits, he replied. Any deviation from the path he intended the conversation to take seemed to qualify. What the principal would describe as “spoken in a rebellious spirit”.

But I couldn’t let this go. I sensed it was the key to why they treat Tyler like a leper, and if there were some way to make them stop, this was how to find it. “I thought the point of Hell is that only bad people go there.”

He then defined ‘bad’ for me. Until recently I thought it meant malicious, cruel, sinister, vicious and so on. It turns out what it really means is disobeying God’s instructions for us as recorded in scripture. That umbrella apparently covers a great many behaviors which harm nobody.

“For instance” he said, “most here believe that salvation comes through faith alone.“For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: Not of works, lest any man should boast. We Catholics believe it’s both faith and works, but never just works. Faith was always the indispensible component.”

I asked him to clarify what we must have faith in. “That Christ died for our sins, then three days later rose from the dead and ascended to Heaven.” I blinked. He said it so casually, as if it made perfect sense.

“That’s oddly specific and doesn’t seem to have anything to do with morality” I objected. “Why is that the main thing? If it’s all about rewarding kindness and charity while punishing cruelty and violence, I can get behind that. But why is believing Christ rose from the dead the one thing we absolutely must do in order to avoid eternal torture?”

He quoted some relevant verses to me, stuff about how Christ is the gate and nobody can enter the kingdom of Heaven but through him. That all who do not believe he is God will die in their sins. Again, as if it were all perfectly logical and I was remiss for not taking it as a given.

“I understand the Bible says that’s how it is, but that doesn’t really answer the question” I complained. “Why is it that way? Why is the lynchpin of whether you go to eternal paradise or an eternal torture pit your belief or disbelief that a particular guy rose from the dead two thousand years ago?

It’s as if using the threat/bribe combo of Heaven and Hell to get people to believe that specific part...and everything that follows from it...is the real point of it all. In which case the noble sounding stuff about how we should treat each other just disguises it.”

He listened intently, eyes narrowed, hands clasped together on the desk. This was the guy who once told me there are no wrong answers in this room. Evidently I found one. “This isn’t a productive tangent” he said. “What you’re missing is that the word of God is not for you to dissect and scrutinize, but for you to read, believe and obey.”

That didn’t cut it for me. “I don’t understand Hell either” I continued. “What father tortures his children? My Dad would never do that. If he did he’d be sent to prison.” He again sighed, then explained that people who go to Hell choose to be there by rejecting Christ.

“You mean by not believing he rose from the dead. That’s not choosing to be there. It’s like if I were to build a dungeon and threaten to torture you there if you don’t believe I can shoot lightning from my eyeballs.

If you don’t believe me, does it really mean you chose to be tortured in my dungeon? And if I told you I can save you from the dungeon I built if you obey me and believe the lightning eyeball thing, am I really saving you? From myself, maybe.”

He went about phrasing it in different ways that I think he hoped wouldn’t sound so creepy. Like that we all deserve death in the first place, but by his grace we can enter Heaven anyway....if we believe a certain thing, of course. But it didn’t really change the equation. Like a mugger with a gun to your head explaining that if you don’t give him your wallet, you’ve chosen to be shot.

“None of that is of any importance” he insisted. “Because the resurrection happened, we can know for certain Christ was God. So we must obey his teachings, evangelize and live our lives in a Biblical way. Even secular historians agree the resurrection took place.” That one was a head scratcher. If it were true, how could they still be non-Christians? He explained they are simply stubborn and married to sin.

“I researched that a bit on my own” I admitted. He tensed up. “I couldn’t find any record of the resurrection from around that time except for the Bible” I said. He objected that there exist several credible records of Christ’s execution.

“I don’t deny that. But an execution is not a resurrection. That a man died is unremarkable. What would be remarkable is if he rose from the dead. So far the only source I can find for that is a book written by his followers for the purpose of converting others.”

He sighed, then looked at the clock. “Well, we should definitely touch on this again next time. I think it’s at the core of your behavioral problems.” My behavioral problems? He didn’t elaborate. “Take this home with you. It will answer your questions.” It was a burned DVD marked “Reasonable faith: The historical evidence for the resurrection.” I had enough homework already, but thanked him and promised to watch.

It proved to be a huge waste of time. The guy on the DVD echoed my psychologist’s insistence that secular historical evidence existed for the resurrection. But I kept watching and waiting, and never heard any. He presented the following as “facts to be explained:” That Jesus was executed, that he was buried, that he then rose from the dead and appeared to many.

But when it came time to explain the basis for these facts, he pointed to scripture. There was contemporary evidence that he was executed and buried, but for everything after that, he drew on accounts from the Bible. As if nobody would notice the transition. Who would be convinced by this that didn’t already believe in the resurrection?

I popped it out of the player and stacked it on top of another DVD, one we’d all been sent home with. “Evolution vs. God.” Hadn’t watched that one yet and didn’t intend to. Not during the precious few hours each day that I can escape from that sort of thing. There was a little paper slip inside with instructions to sign it, presumably to indicate we’d watched the film, so I did.

Just then, the phone rang. I didn’t bother answering as it’s rarely for me. Only this time it was. Dad approached, phone in hand. “Some kid named Tyler wants to know if you’d like to come over this Saturday.” I asked if he was okay with driving me. He held the phone up to his ear and requested Tyler’s address. “It’s just a few miles, you should be able to make it on your bike. I guess I could drive you anyway.”

I took the phone to confirm it. He sounded excited, regaling me with all of the cool stuff there would be to do. I assured him I’d come over even if he lived in a cave. With the day and time set, I handed the phone back to Dad. I later overheard him placing an order for yet more of that motor oil, plus another crate of the juice from his buddy.

On a whim, as I’d already gotten my hands dirty researching Biblical matters, I plugged the name of the motor oil company into a search engine. The first page was all glowing reviews, testimonials and purported scientific studies. But all of them had “syn” or “synthetic” in the site name, as in “synthetic oil”.

When I clicked around on each page I found it was incomplete and hadn’t been updated in years. Just the facade of a website, to give a certain impression. On to page two. The contrast was like night and day! I wondered how they managed to get only the favorable stuff to show up on the first page as I browsed through comment sections full of people warning others that the company was some sort of scam.

In every case, there were other people angrily dogpiling them for “spouting ignorant, uninformed misconceptions” about the company and their product. These people all had the company’s logo set as their avatar, their profile or signature contained links to where you could buy it, and there was noticeable repetition of specific arguments as if somebody had coached them.

So I went to one of the links posted by a critic. It explained the structure of the company, how few make any real money selling the product, and the company’s profits mainly come from selling memberships to people who want in.

The company website promises at some future date you will be fabulously wealthy if you join, with testimonials from people it supposedly worked for. There were also surprisingly self aware warnings that naysayers were spreading “anti-competitive lies” about them which should be disregarded.

Evidently the court system didn’t see it their way as further searching revealed they’d been in near constant litigation for several years now. Raking in so much money from their business that they could afford to draw out the legal process for as long as possible.

It was the contention of the government and burned ex-distributors that they were a garden variety “pyramid scheme”. Something the company emphatically denied. I watched a video of an expensively suited spokesperson defending their model. “Every business or organization of any kind is structured like we are, with one or a few people at the top, and then successive layers of management, salesmen and so on below that.”

Seemed airtight. Except he never mentioned what made them different, the fact that you have to pay upfront to work for them. However he was questioned about it, he answered as if it’d never been said, becoming visibly irate the more the interviewer pressed the point. By now I’d gone from suspicion to alarm, then to conviction that these people had roped my Dad into some ruinous scam.

My dad’s a smart guy. How could he have fallen for this? There was nothing about those shills in the comments sections to suggest they were especially dim either. Then I remembered all the crates.

How much cash had he already sunk into motor oil? He was sure to be relieved when I told him about all this. Imagine if he just kept buying more, never able to sell any of it. We’d have to give up the new house.

I broke the news over dinner. He froze, staring at me with his mouth full. Then set down his knife and fork, finished chewing, and began to speak. “You know, it’s funny. They warned me I might hear that sort of thing from people who don’t understand how their business model works.” I told him I knew perfectly well how it works, it’s just a scam.

“That’s enough. I can understand how this happened, you’re very young and impressionable. Must’ve read something online from a disgruntled failure who didn’t hustle hard enough, then blamed the company. You can’t believe everything you read on the internet, I really should’ve had that talk with you sooner. People have agendas, they lie.”

I couldn’t let it alone, because I knew if he continued it would ruin his finances. The house, the baby, everything he’d planned would fall apart. Anxiety built within me as I described at length the paid search results, the comment shills, the lawsuits, struggling to convince him. Dad just kept turning redder as I talked. I really thought he’d yell at me. Mom’s eyes darted back and forth between us, concern clearly written in them.

When he replied, it was with a measure of calmness that took me by surprise. It meant he was either not as upset as I’d thought, or much moreso. “Listen carefully. Pyramid scheme is just a scare word. A slur people use to shame and discredit legitimate companies with nonstandard business models. I’m sure there are plenty of real pyramid schemes out there, but the term is often abused.

I read all about that tactic and all the other ones naysayers commonly use in the pamphlet that came with my distributor kit, so save it. Whatever you may have read, a pyramid scheme is not what this is. I can sorta see how it would look that way to you, but I would know if it was. Do you think I’m stupid?”

I assured him I didn’t. That I’ve learned more from him than I ever did from school. That all I wanted was for him to research it on his own, from sources not owned by the company or other distributors. He mulled it over, placated by the concessions, and eventually agreed. I’ve always known him to be stubborn, but not wholly intractable. Mom says he was worse before I was born, but he denies it.

“You know, if you argue like this at school, your principal might have a point. I’ve gotten two calls from him now complaining about your contrarianism.” As if I’d simply set out to be disagreeable? It didn’t surprise me that he’d see it that way. I explained why I struggled with the contents of the quizzes and some of the things the teacher told us in class. He laughed when I mentioned the bit about evolving from rocks.

“Yeah I was worried about that. But it’s the only private school in the area we can afford, and aside from some of the oddball stuff they teach, I’m certain it’s a step up over sending you to any public school. You know how I feel about that.” Indeed I did, having come from one. “The other kids do seem better behaved while a teacher’s around.” I admitted. “It’s the teachers that are the real problem. They’re out of their minds.”

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^{Stay Tuned for Part 8!}