'Are You a Christian?'

ED GORDON, host:

Today, fights over how religion fits into public life are making headlines. But for most, religion is private and the issues aren't just black and white. Farai Chideya gives us her perspective.

FARAI CHIDEYA:

So when I was driving one day, I saw a woman at a bus stop. She was old enough to be my grandmother, and she shifted from one foot to the other. She wore thick elastic stockings and orthopedic shoes; she carried a cane. Traffic was thick and sluggish. I was in the left lane, but I put on my blinker, and, after 30 seconds or so, I managed to pull over to the right. Now understand that 30 seconds in Los Angeles traffic is an eternity. You might get stopped at a light for minutes, but when some wing nut holds things up on purpose, you get really mad.

Anyway, I didn't make my fellow drivers happy, but when I asked the woman at the bus stop if she needed a ride, her face lit up. She was so small she had to clamber into the passenger seat, and, just as the cars behind me were ready to let loose with furious honking, we pulled away.

Now urban wisdom says, `Don't pick up strangers at bus stops.' What if this lady was a member of the deadly Abdalita mafia(ph)? But she was just a tired woman on her way to the podiatrist. She clutched a clear plastic bag full of pill bottles. I guess none of them gave her relief from the pain in her feet. She'd been waiting for the bus, she told me, for a long, long time. The doctor's office was just a few blocks away. Most people would have walked.

We pulled up to the clinic and my passenger patted me on the hand and thanked me. And then she asked me a question: `Are you a Christian?' she said. If I told her the whole story, we could have been sitting there for awhile. I could have said, `I was raised a Catholic and then stopped going to church, and then went back to church, and then started studying Buddhism. And now, I guess, I'm kind of a mix of traditions.' I could have told her that when I'm looking for parking I do call out to the saints. `Mother Cabrini, Mother Cabrini. Please, find me parking, Mother Cabrini.' I swear, with Mother Cabrini on your side, you'll always find a spot; just make sure that when do you say, `Thank you, Mother Cabrini, and bless all the little children of the world.'

I could have asked, and perhaps I should have asked, what she meant by her question. Would my little deed for the day have meant less if I weren't Christian? Or did she want to invite me to her church? If I said, no, I wasn't Christian, would she launch into a sermon? But instead, when she asked if I was a Christian, I just said, `Yes.' She thanked me again and got out of the car.

I didn't lie, exactly, but it is the kind of half-truth that still troubles me. Did I think if I said `no' the nice lady would start screaming about fire and brimstone? If so, shame on me for making assumptions, but I now I'm not the only person who'd rather eat rocks than talk about religion. It might just be the thorniest subject of our times: gay marriage, abortion, sex education, faith-based initiatives, terrorism, values. Talk of religion in these debates gets tense and ugly real fast. So we avoid it. We avoid stating even simple truths like there are good people of all faiths, and good people who practice no faith. And, like it or not, we're all in this country together. Take the motto on our currency: E Pluribus Unum. Out of many, one. Many faiths, one nation. Many points of view on one topic--and, if we have the courage, many chances for us to talk.

GORDON: This is NPR News.

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