Religious Tourism

I met a woman the other day who described herself as a religious tourist. She's the half Lebonese half Scottish daughter of a strick Muslim, who can't seem to get away from Born Again Christians. She says they turn up everywhere she goes. Some of them have become good friends of hers. She affectionately refers to them as HER Christians. It was with the glee of a seven year old boy who'd won a chocolate bar in drawing competition that i told her that I too was a Born Again Christian. She said I'd slipped under her radar. I took that, somehow, as a compliment.

It was Jesus who made up the phrase Born Again. It was us who took it and capitalised it. Now, in America especially, it has all these political connetations I'm pretty certain Jesus never intended. I think he meant: It's a big deal to follow me. You become my child and it's permanent.

Lucia and I have been engaging in religious tourism of our own. Church shopping. Swooping in collecting welcome packs and friendly strangers as we go. Singing the same songs with different people. Everyone loving Jesus in their own particualr way. It's kind of fascinating and a bit horrifying. Lucia said she felt like you shouldn't be allowed to choose your church. It's like trying to choose your family. Imagine you held some sort of Pop Idol auditions for your prospective family. They had to succeed in categories such as: Style of singing, age, sex, background and of course theological persuasion. It would be a farce.