Fides

She felt like she could hit him. “I can’t believe you think that!”

“Oh yeah, because it’s not as logical as a man who walked on water, magically fed thousands of people and then turned into a zombie.”

“Jesus wasn’t a zombie. He died for our sins and was resurrec…uh…but that doesn’t make him a zombie!”

The man drew most the air from the room into his lungs, a mating ritual for some species, but he simply wanted to prepare himself for further communication. However, he changed his mind, and merely sighed instead. He stood up from his chair and headed for the kitchen sink. “Don’t you dare walk away from me!” she said.

“From this grand theological debate for the ages? I’m not going anywhere. I just want a drink.”

The woman stood up now, much more quickly than he had. She scooted in his general direction and blocked the way to his intended source of refreshment. “No. We do this. Right. Now.” Her voice was hard as granite. His face gained a look of confusion and fear, giving him the qualities of a deer caught in a hunter’s headlights.

“Jeez. OK. Christ, I can’t even remember why we were talking about this.”

“A-ha! You used two Christian epithets just then. Christianity is part of the English vernacular. It’s important.”

“Right, first, I don’t think ‘epithet’ is the right word. But, like, I can’t think of the right word at the moment, so I’m not going to correct you. Secondly: who cares? Language itself is secular, removed of God; any religious meaning is implied.”

“All meaning is implied. That makes no difference. ‘Christ’ refers to the Lord Jesus Christ, nothing else. When people say Christ, they are referring to Him, even if they’re atheist.”

“And what does that prove? Just because I mentioned Him-with-a-capital-h doesn’t mean I have to believe in Him-with-a-capital-h. Seriously, what is the point in this conversation?”

“You brought it up.”

“I did not! All I said was…” He found himself cursed with a lack of words.

She filled in the blanks for him, suitably lowering her voice as she did. “All you said was that you don’t want to marry me because you aren’t Christian.”

“No. No, I did not say that. What I said is that I don’t want to marry you in achurch because I’m not Christian.”

A beat. “Then…”

“Yes. My answer is yes.”

The corners of her mouth practically reached her eyes as her teeth bared her happiness for the world to see. She wrapped her lanky arms around him in a bear hug, and nearly pushed him into the cabinet with the force. “Woah,” he said, “Calm down!”

She released him, suddenly serious again. “I’m getting married in a church,” she said, in that hard tone again.

“No, look, we’ve been…” he spotted a look on his now-fiancé’s face, the scariest expression he had ever seen. This was the second time in a matter of minutes, and he expected he would see it many many more times in the coming years. This situation was not negotiable. He sighed. “OK. Fine. But that doesn’t make me a Christian.”

Her face relaxed, and she smiled that sweet smile that made him fall for her in the first place. “My love for you is stronger than for any zombie,” she said.

“That is kind of stupid, you have to admit.”

“No more stupid than believing that the monotony of daily life is all there is and we have no hope of a life beyond death. Faith and hope is why I’m religious. Not burning bushes and the magical cloning of sardines.” He had to concede that she had a point.

“So uh, can I get that drink now?” he said. “I’m kind of thirsty.”

She moved out of the way of the sink, and positioned her arms in a be-my-guest manner. He picked up a glass from the draining board and began to run the tap into it. And…

“That…is not water,” she said.

Sure enough, a thin burgundy liquid was flowing into the glass, not crystal clear H2O. The man held the glass there in shock, and allowed the wine to dribble onto his hand and down the drain. He looked at the woman, unsure of himself.

“This changes nothing.”