Evangelism
So I'm reading philosophy. Descartes, probably, or Hume. Standing at the corner of 7th and Liberty with lots of humans, waiting for the Route 1, it hits me: philosophy is evangelism. What more do I want from someone than that they think seriously about themselves, about life? What more do I want to convert a person to, beyond engagement?
I need to test this. Maybe once in ten bus rides, someone will talk to me. My pact: if someone talks to me today, I am going to ask them a question: "What is the most important thing?"
I'm sitting in the back, reading Descartes or Hume, for 35 minutes; 10 minutes until my stop. Mary makes small talk. Electricity. Not that you face the person sitting next to you when you talk on the bus, but I don't put on my glasses, because I know it's easier if I can't see her. She is wearing a silver puffy coat and has wavy hair. She might have an odd piercing. She's about my age.
"Hey, I'm sorry, but I have to ask you a weird question. Is that okay?"
"Sure."
"Ok, I'm sorry, ... this is weird, but ... I promised myself that the next person I talked to, I would ask this question ... What's the most important thing?" I'm looking at the floor in between us, fidgeting with my glasses.
"What do you mean? Like ..."
"Like, what's the most important thing in life. What is the Good. To you, that is ..."
"To love yourself." No question; confident.
I pause. "To love yourself. Can I ask why?" (What is philosophy except "why?")
"Because if you don't love yourself then you can't give a shit about other people." No question.
I'm the only one feeling uncomfortable. This is going really well. "So, do you love yourself?"
"Yeah, for the most part ... Do I have regrets? Sure, some."
Pause. "Is it too much to ask what some of the regrets might be? You don't have to ..."
"Suicide."
"You tried to commit suicide?!"
"Yes. Right after my dad died, 11 years ago. He was the reason my life had meaning. When he died, I tried to kill myself."
"Sheesh! That's heavy!"
"Sorry, I was just being honest. I'm a very honest person."
"No ... thank you! That's awesome! ... That you're honest, I mean, not that you tried to kill yourself ... or that your dad died ..."
Time's up. I shove my book in my bag and my glasses in my shirt pocket. I grab my coat, stand up, and push the button.
"Hey, sorry, this is my stop. Thanks for answering my question. My name's Chad, what's your name?"
"Mary."
"Thanks, Mary."
"Have a good day, sir."
