I met Bill at Baylor University. He was a fellow ministerial student who imprinted his fraternity shirt with a mock Latin phrase, “Quid tibi est?”
In 1978, Google was a long way off, so my fellow pledges asked him to translate it.
“What’s it to you?” he asked.
“Oh, come on,” we said. “Just tell us what it means.”
Mocking us as lowly plebes, he weighted the last two words, “What’s it TO YOU?”
This game went on for a few minutes until we heard the literal translation: “What’s it to you?”
Game, set match. He had us.
I shrugged it off because I’d dealt with people like him before—sanctimonious, self-proclaimed experts who never offer any level ground to those of us who search.
One such encounter involved a church youth group leader named Sherry.
She always flashed a bright smile before she pitched her loaded question, “Have you received the gift of the Holy Spirit?”
The question is a trap, much like, “Have you stopped beating your wife?”
It was impossible to give Sherry the right answer. If I said, “Yes, I’m full of the spirit,” she’d lay out her Bible like a religious yardstick to determine if my holy spirit measured up to hers.
If I said, “No,” I confirmed her impression I wasn’t a good Christian.
Worse yet, a “no” brought the worst question from Sherry: “Do you want to speak in tongues?”
This question was a reference to the ecstatic and unintelligible language spoken by people in charismatic churches. Another linguistic trap set by Sherry.
I bring up Bill and Sherry because I suspect some of you have been turned off to religion by such people. If so, you’re the victim of loaded questions fired at innocent bystanders by pious church goers.
These inquisitors want to reduce your spirituality to some kind of test only they can pass. They ask questions such as: “Don’t you believe in Jesus? Don’t you want the spirit in your life?” Or, “If you were to die tonight, did you know you’ll go to hell?”
How do you answer questions like that from folks like this?
Advice columnist Carolyn Hax suggests we regard people’s “nutritional label” and ask if they are worth the time. If not, she says, “Friends with a low decency content need to be treated as junk food.”
This rule also holds in our efforts to find a spiritual community. Some people and places are junk food. But we can find quality people when we make the effort to look for them.
Spiritual junk food doesn’t fill you up any more than Sherry’s version of the “holy” spirit. You only encounter God through a spiritual relationship.
As in all successful relationships, you ask questions, engage in dialogue, maybe even lose your temper, but also learn to laugh at yourself and forgive others.
Meantime, to all you who’ve had someone discourage you from involvement with the local church, I offer a strategy suggested by another pseudo-Latin phrase, “Illegitimi non carborundum.”
It roughly means, “Don’t let the idiots get you down.”
Google it and you might find a more colorful translation. But that’s enough Latin for one day.
Norris Burkes can be reached at comment@thechaplain.net. Follow us on Facebook and Instagram: @insidesacramento. Burkes is available for public speaking at civic organizations, places of worship, veterans groups and more. For details and fees, visit thechaplain.net.
