For the twice-monthly family breakfasts, I’ve said many times, “Please let me know you’re coming, before you come.” Why? Because I am fragile in the head, and the morning goes better if I know in advance which members of my eccentric family will be there, and whether they’re bringing a guest.
It’s always been the rule, RSVP in advance, but my brothers are rule-breakers. They’re not often at the breakfasts, but when they are, their appearances are always unexpected. Sometimes Clay literally shouts, “Surprise!” in the restaurant.
For this morning’s breakfast, though, Clay RSVP’d a few days in advance. I appreciated it, and told him. My friend Leon RSVP’d too, but he always does, when he’s coming. Leon texted me, “I’ll be at breakfast on Saturday, and you know Clay is coming, right?” That’s my buddy Leon, looking out for me.
Then Leon texted, “And he’s bringing Dan the Man,” which was a curious thing to say. I couldn’t think of anyone we know named Dan, and certainly nobody who goes by “Dan the Man.”
“Who’s Dan the Man?” I texted back.
“Sorry,” Leon replied, “I wasn’t supposed to tell you. Clay wanted it to be a surprise.” I cajoled, but Leon refused to name names.
A suspicion bubbled up, so I scrolled through ancient texts from Clay to confirm it… and, yup. Found a text from February, where Clay mentioned his pastor — “Pastor Dan.”
Son! Of! A! Bitch! It’s going to be a pastor-ambush.
Most of my family is mega-religious. I’m mega-not, and they know it, but they worry about my non-existent immortal soul.
Three times, they’ve pastor-ambushed me at family events — twice my mother invited a preacher to preach at me, without telling me in advance, and once Clay did it. And now, here we go again. Some man of God I’d never met was going to preach at me about Jesus.
All three pastor-ambushes were years and years ago. The most recent was in the 1990s, so it’s been a loooong time, and the family’s been better-behaved recently, but I guess they gotta give it one more god damned try. The notion of this “Pastor Dan” trying to convert me over ham and eggs made me furious, and my first thought was to cancel this week’s family breakfast.
Thinking back to those earlier pastor-ambushes, though, I’d been flustered and flummoxed every time. All three times, I’d sat there and let those preachers preach at me, because I’m kind of a wimp, and was outnumbered by all the Christians, and unsure what to say or how to respond.
This time, thanks to an advance tip-off from Leon, I could be prepared. I could fine-tune my arguments, and maybe fluster and flummox Pastor Dan! Praise the frickin’ Lord!
Verily, then, I spent last evening remembering what words had been used against me in those long-ago pastor ambushes, and crafting a better defense.
“Are you a Christian?” all three of the preachers had asked. All I’d been able to say was no, which only earned me three sermons. Certainly, Pastor Dan would ask the same question.
This time, here’s the answer I came up with: From everything I’ve heard about Jesus, he seems like a righteous dude. But he was never a Christian.
Oh, yeah, I liked that.
Pastor Dan might say, “Of course Jesus was a Christian,” but he wasn’t. Jesus was a Jew, born and raised and died Jewish. You could look it up.
Pastor Dan would go on and on about coming to Jesus, becoming a Christian, all that rot.
My answer would be: Adolf Hitler was a Christian. Jim Jones and David Koresh were Christians. The Ku Klux Klan is a Christian group. Why would I want to stand with those assholes?
Oh, this could actually be fun.
Pastor Dan would argue that Hitler and all those others couldn’t have really been Christians.
To that I’d say: There no knowing what’s in someone else’s soul. You say you’re a Christian, Pastor Dan, and who am I to say you’re not? Judge not, lest ye be judged. Who are you to say Hitler wasn’t a Christian, when he always said he was?
Maybe I’d ask Pastor Dan if he’s been to any protests against Donald Trump — another fine Christian — or if he’s preached against all the ongoing Trump cruelties. I’m certain he hasn’t, because Clay likes Trump and if his pastor didn’t, Clay would probably switch churches.
My guess is that Pastor Dan would say, “God wants me to tend to my flock, not worry about political matters.”
If your God with his omnipotence won’t stop fascism, and won’t let you take a stand against fascism, well, what the hell good is your god?
Like all the other pastor-ambushes, he’ll tell me to get right with God. Judgment Day is nigh, and all that crap.
My reply would be: If your Jesus came back, he’d never stop vomiting at what people have done and are still doing in his name. Christians are the key demographic that elected that bastard Trump.
Oh yeah. This time — round four of the pastor-ambushes — I was going to punch that preacher-man into a rhetorical knockout.
Maybe I’d bring up all the pervert preachers and priests that are in the news every day. And even when they’re not diddling little kids, what about the basic unfairness of baptizing and indoctrinating children years before they’re old enough to have rational skepticism? What about teenagers who get brain cancer, and good people who get splattered in car wrecks?
This was going to be the best breakfast ever.
On my bus ride to the restaurant, I was still rehearsing my lines, but at the table it was only Mom and my sister Katrina, and Leon and Clay and me. You could probably see the disappointment in my face, but I didn’t say anything about it.
Midway through a subdued breakfast, Clay mentioned that he’d invited Dan Wienke — not his Pastor Dan, but an old acquaintance from my teens and 20s — but Dan couldn’t make it. Oh… I’d forgotten that once, during a church softball game in the 1970s, Dan Wienke hit a game-winning home run, and after that some of us called him “Dan the Man” for a few months.
5/2/2025
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