God Only knows

God Only Knows – The Beach Boys

On the corner of the street, next to the subway entrance of 96th Street and Broadway, a man holding a bible is shouting at his fellow men, a mound of brochures neatly stacked on the sidewalk. I pass him almost every day when I take the train. The man dictates and quotes unwearyingly – even on an ominously overcast August afternoon like this one. ‘For six days, work is to be done! But the seventh day is a Sabbath of rest! Holy to the LORD! Whoever does any work on the Sabbath day must be put to death!’ The man’s face flinches involuntarily. It is Sunday. Thank god he does not get any reimbursement for the warnings he is heeding to passers-by.
No need to repeat that god is almighty or that Jesus loves you; people know all that by now. What they don’t know, is that god can be mighty pissed off. And that it’s best to be on his good side when he gets angry. The lord is not squeamish when it comes to acting out his wrath, the man on the corner knows. ‘Hear Lucas 19:26-28! I tell you that to everyone who has, more will be given! But as for the one who has nothing, even what he has will be taken away! But those enemies of mine who did not want me to be king over them – bring them here and kill them in front of me!’

God is great in the US. Although numbers are dwindling slowly, 87% of the population still actively professes their belief in a higher power – or several. In New York City, catholics and protestants make for a respective 40 and 30% of that number (occupying over 200 churches); 8.5% is jewish (with a solid 50 synagogues), 3.5% is muslim (saying praise in a surprising 100+ mosques); 1% states to be buddhist (and does so in no less than 20 buddhist temples), and 13% (a bit poorly, in their own homes) either believes that god does not exist, or does not believe that god exists – not as a man with a beard, anyway. ‘That there’s something out there’ does not constitute as an official religion – at least, not that I know of. Among the 4% that is left non-specified are, at any case, enough people to fill 15 jehovah’s witness churches and a couple of hindu temples. I wonder where the man on the corner has found his niche.

It starts to rain, a genuine summer downpour. Within seconds, the man’s shoes are as saturated as his nylon suit. He does not mind. After all, Noah wasn’t intimidated by a little drizzle, now, was he? Within minutes, water is gushing along the sidewalks and the hopelessly under-equipped city sewers; over the steps and down the subway it goes. By the end of the day, water will be seeping through the cement construction and onto the heads of the men and women on the platforms below. For now, the man’s brochures soak together; next thing, they are swooped up by the rivulet and carried away, doomsday newsprint boats, to the sewers of West End Avenue. The man watches them go with a hint of nostalgia. He's not afraid of any upcoming floods. Bring it on, judgement day! There will be a seat saved for him on the boat.