Talk About Religion

Talk About Religion September 13, 2014
Sitting in a folding chair next to neat piles of saffron, cumin and sumac, a portly man with an unbuttoned linen shirt looked me over as I lingered to take a photo of his vibrant shop. It was early September and, despite the stagnant heat which trapped an often unpleasant mixture of spices and body odor in alleyways, I was eager to explore Jerusalem’s Old City for the first time.
Privy to my excitement and observant of my distinguishing (read: exceptionally dweebish) tourist garb, he saw the insignia on my program-issued backpack and immediately made the association between me and the religion of the school I am studying abroad with.
“You’re a Mormon,” he stated. I looked at him and, without waiting for a sign of affirmation, he continued to vocalize everything he thought he knew about my religion. He told me what I believed. He pointed to things in his shop I would or wouldn’t buy based on a religious code of conduct. He wrapped my faith up nicely in a five-sentence summary. He never asked my name, but when he was finished, he leaned back in his creaky aluminum chair and exuded an air of smugness that said, “I know you.”
The saddest part was, he really thought he did.
Most people who know me also think they know what I believe. They define my faith according to hazy memories of what they learned in an American history class in high school, or the semi-informative 60 Minutes clip they caught when Mitt Romney ran for president. Even among my very closest friends, I can count on one hand the amount of people who have actually taken time to ask me what, exactly, I believe in.
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