FREE GIFTS FOR YOUR MIND
Return to Gift Page
This Atheist Teaching Tale by Dr. Eric Maisel is fictional. To comment on it, please drop Dr. Maisel an email at ericmaisel@hotmail.com.
FOURSOME
A rabbi, a priest, a minister and an atheist were gathered at the first tee to begin a round of golf. Having just met in the clubhouse, there were the usual introductions and small talk.
“What’s your handicap?” the rabbi asked the priest.
“Original sin,” the priest replied.
The group laughed cheerfully. It looked like a pleasant, battering morning of golf in the offing. A few bets were made—larger ones than the clerics were used to making. Something about playing with an atheist got their blood boiling, causing them to raise the stakes. The atheist reminded them that he was an excellent golfer and that they shouldn’t bank too heavily on their handicaps. But his warning only inflamed them.
“No, let’s double the bets!” the rabbi cried.
“Yes!” the priest agreed.
“Triple them!” the minister exclaimed.
“As you wish,” the atheist said, smiling. “Maybe God will grace you with a few unearned birdies.”
Play began. The atheist won the first hole, and the second hole, and the third hole, and the fourth hole—even taking the clerics’ handicaps into account. To a man, the clerics found themselves playing more poorly than usual. The rabbi’s hook became so pronounced that even the deer on the course seemed to grow alert and watchful. The priest’s fade turned into something abject and horrible to watch. The minister, whose game was weak beyond repair, found every possible bunker, causing his score to skyrocket.
A good bit of grumbling erupted among the clerics. As they approached the fifth tee, the rabbi demanded of the atheist, “How is it that you play so well? You’re practically a professional!”
“I have natural talent,” the atheist replied. “And I practice.”
This answer seemed to unnerve and infuriate the clerics.
“No, really, how do you do it?” exclaimed the priest. “You always send it straight down the fairway! It’s almost … diabolical!”
“Don’t you believe in natural talent?” the atheist laughed.
“Of course I believe in natural talent,” the priest replied grudgingly.
“Well, I have it.”
The clerics muttered and grumbled. The atheist addressed his ball and sent it long and straight down the fifth fairway. The priest groaned and the rabbi pulled so hard on his beard that he cried out in pain. The minister sank to his knees in consternation. Finally they pulled themselves together enough to drive. Their drives were the worst yet and the minister’s drive was so ugly and off line that with a roar he threw his driver into the creek. The atheist laughed.
“God is clearly not very interested in golf,” he said. “At least, not in your game!”
The atheist won the fifth hole handily, and the sixth, and the seventh, and the eighth. The clerics’ game collapsed past the point of satire. On the eighth hole, a hole designed to require five shots, it took the rabbi twelve shots, the priest thirteen, and the minister fourteen. When the minister finally sank his putt after several tries, the atheist said to the furious clerics, “Playing to raise your handicap?”
The minister let fly a curse as he retrieved his ball from the cup. The rabbi kicked his bag. The priest made some sort of esoteric sign that the atheist presumed was the equivalent of cursing. A pleasant breeze wafted over them and birds sang as they began the short trek to the ninth tee.
The ninth hole proceeded exactly as had the previous eight. The atheist played excellent golf; the clerics played miserably. At the outset they had agreed to pay off their bets after nine holes and then make new bets if they were so inclined. The clerics, huddled together as they moved toward the tenth tee, gestured and whispered. The atheist walked on ahead, smiling to himself, certain as to what the clerics were plotting. When they arrived at the tenth tee, the atheist said, “I believe I’ve won all nine holes. You may pay me now.”
It appeared that the rabbi had been selected to deliver the news. He cleared his throat and said, “We’ve decided not to pay you.”
“And why is that?” the atheist said, still smiling.
“We believe that you’ve hustled us,” the rabbi said. “Therefore we won’t pay.”
The atheist cocked his head. “Interesting,” he replied. “I informed you about my handicap and I told you that I was an excellent player. I’m playing exactly at the level of my handicap. You all are playing terribly. How did I hustle you?”
“You didn’t make it clear to us how good you were,” the minister exclaimed, stepping forward to take the rabbi’s place. “You may have said it but you didn’t say it clearly, with enough emphasis.”
“You mean, I should have added a bolt of lightning by way of exclamation,” the atheist replied, laughing.
“You threw us off our game,” the priest said. “You’ve been mocking us and laughing at us. You may even be in league with the devil! We feel hustled; and we have to go with our feelings.”
“I haven’t been mocking you or laughing at you,” the atheist replied. “I’ve been playing better golf than you.”
“Well, we feel that you are in league with the devil and we have to go with our feelings,” said the priest, ending the discussion.
“Indeed you do!” the atheist exclaimed. “Much better to go with your feelings than your word! You are doing your God proud twice over, by choking and by reneging!”
To this the clerics made no reply. They stood together as one, bound by their common interest. No differences in dogma or belief mattered against this public humiliation. They were united. The atheist would get none of their money. He was an atheist and a hustler! No doubt he made it a habit, even a business, out of preying on unsuspecting clerics. As if they had even wanted to bet!
The atheist stared at them. “You are a sight,” he said. “The accumulated wisdom of the ages, standing righteous and firm.” He teed up his ball and sent it almost three hundred yards down the center of the fairway. He replaced the driver in the bag and headed heedlessly off.
“We still have to drive!” the pastor cried, affronted.
“That’s all right,” the atheist called back over his shoulder. “None of you have hit a single fairway all day.”
The clerics stared after the atheist.
“Hit him!” the minister hissed.
The rabbi teed up his ball.
“Hit him!” the priest whispered. “Hit him right in the head!”
The rabbi addressed his ball with several stiff and awkward practice swings. “May God guide my ball!” he exclaimed, raising his face to the heavens. He swung and hit a mighty hook, sending his ball flying into the deep rough on the left. The priest, up next, found the rough on the right. The minister found the deepest bunker on the course, one known to swallow balls alive. The three of them gestured and cursed and made a mighty row, causing a family of deer to hop off into the underbrush.
The atheist continued his stroll down the fairway, whistling a little tune and enjoying the summer breeze. He played on through, a party of one, and when he was done with his excellent round he had a clubhouse beer to celebrate. He sat by himself, far away from the clubhouse picture window through which could be seen the flailing clerics, mangling their shots and thoroughly amused by their own company.
© Eric Maisel, 2008
|
