Hellfire

It was 95 degrees here yesterday. Having survived Heat Wave NYC 2010 it doesn't seem that bad, really, but since I am from almost-Canada, it does seem weird to have the leaves fall while it is too hot to make tea (or turn on the stove, period).

As I crossed campus yesterday, I saw a man wearing a sandwich board. The front said something like "Jesus said sin no more" and on the back something about going to hell. This is not a totally alien sight (there is a LOT more Christian activism on campus than at my undergrad institution), but what struck me in particular about this man was his voice. Namely, how loud and scary it was. I could hear him from quite a ways away, saying "heeelllllllfireeee, bound for helllllllfiiiiiireeeee, dooooooomed" over and over.

The man with the sign looked like that uncle you have who is kind of quiet, but always nice, and who gives you $10 and a hug when you graduate from high school. (note: I don't actually have any uncles like this. All my uncles are loud.) The thing that depressed me was that he was a smallish man with a plaid shirt, jeans, and a baseball cap, and what with the sandwich board on, he must have been so hot. Sweat was pouring off his face. Perhaps he would have responded that his discomfort was nothing compared to what martyrs went through, which is valid, I suppose, depending on your opinions about martyrdom. But mostly I was just irrationally annoyed. "Sit down!" I wanted to command him. "Please drink some water and rest, for crying out loud."

I don't why he got under my skin, but he did. There were a lot of religious campaigners in NYC, and I got used to them, got good at smiling, maybe taking a leaflet, or just continuing on my way. The only times I was ever aggravated were at those groups who brought their children with them--I don't care if you are trying to get people interested in Save the Puffins, or Free Chocolate for Everyone (both of which I would heartily support), or anything else--leave your 5 year old at home. But for some reason, this solitary man drumed the word "hellfire" into my brain. As I was trying to read an article about Artemisia Gentileschi: hellfire. As I cooked dinner: hellfire. As I conjugated Italian verbs: hellfire hellfire hellfire. "Knock it off," said my brain. "This is why these tactics work. You don't even BELIEVE in hell, remember?"

Blame it on the heat.