(Two primary grade teachers preparing lessons at neighboring desks.)
J: How can people even believe in God?
M: (Says nothing.)
J: I mean, what proof do they have?
M: I've always known God exists.
J: (Frowns.)
M: (Keeps working.)
J: So are you saying you've seen God or something?
M: What if I say I have? Would you believe?
J: No.
M: You would accuse me of deluding myself, or of being duplicitous, would you not?
J: Proof is proof. What kind of proof do you have?
M: I have no proof I can offer you.
J: But you've always believed.
M: I didn't say that.
J: (Shakes her head.) You just said that you've always believed in God.
M: I said I have always known that God exists.
J: So you've always believed.
M: I didn't say that.
J: I hate talking to you about anything. It always ends up going in circles.
M: Conversation should be two-way, shouldn't it?
J: So tell me.
M: So listen.
J: Okay, so what is this "always"?
M: (Looks up and meets J's questioning gaze.)
J: I mean, always means back in high school? middle school? grade school?
M: Before grade school. Way before.
J: How can a kid that young understand God?
M: (Goes back to work.) I don't know any adults who understand God very well.
J: (Also returns to work.) Just you, huh?
M: Did I say that?
J: But that's what you mean.
M: What's what I mean?
J: Going around in circles again?
M: I'm guessing I'm going to have to guess at what you are asking. When I say I don't know any adults who understand God well, I include myself.
J: But not really.
M: No. Really.
J: But you understand God better than me.
(Both work in silence for a few minutes.)
J: You do think you understand God better than me.
M: Is that what it boils down to, a question of pride?
J: So I'm supposed to be humble, but you're not?
M: (Stops working and turns to face J.)
J: (Keeps working.)
M: You're better at teaching math than I am.
J: True.
M: You help me when I ask.
J: Of course.
M: I don't complain when I have to ask you for help, do I?
J: Sometimes.
M: (Thinks for a moment, then nods his head.) Okay, maybe I do. (Returns to working.)
(Both work in silence for a minute or two.)
J: But you've always believed in God.
M: How many of the children that you teach know that one plus one makes two?
J: There are a couple of kids who can't always seem to remember it, but what's that got to do with anything?
M: How many actually believe it?
J: (Laughs.) Good point. More than half don't really believe it means anything. They're just good at memorizing and repeating the arithmetic.
M: How many understand the full implications of addition and subtraction of integers?
J: (Thinks for a moment.) Actually, I have a couple of students who seems to get the concept of a ring, and of a series within a ring.
M: The students all have different understanding of what numbers are, right? And yet most of your students can do basic addition and subtraction.
J: They all can, most of the time.
M: Does that mean that any student is any smarter than any other?
J: Smarter at math.
M: Smarter at one part of math, maybe not at other parts.
(Again they both work in silence for a half a minute.)
J: So I'm too dumb to do basic theology.
M: Theology is man's study of God. It often has little-to-nothing to do with God, as I understand God.
J: So you know more than the experts.
M: Well, for my purposes, I guess I know more than most of the so-called experts. For their purposes, I don't think I do, and I'm not sure I care. They have different purposes from me.
J: And you just generally don't trust experts anyway.
M: Especially about religion.
J: So that makes you the expert.
M: No, but I do know more about what I know than the experts know about what I know.
J: What does that have to do with God? You don't own God.
M: Excellent question.
J: (Thinks for a moment.) But now it sounds like you're saying that whatever you believe is just fine.
M: (Doesn't say anything.)
J: But you can't really be saying that.
M: You -- (Stops and starts over.) People have to start with what they know and what they can believe.
J: What if we don't want to start going that direction?
M: Then you don't.
J: And that's fine?
M: Well, yes.
J: You're lying.
M: Not (Pauses.) telling the whole truth, but not telling lies.
J: So what's the whole truth?
M: Everybody dies eventually.
J: And that's the end.
M: Of this life. Not of the soul.
J: And, according to you, I have to face the justice of God when I die, so I'd better be a good little girl in this world.
M: Did I say that?
J: You were going to.
M: Let me ask you, what does it mean to be a good little girl?
J: Follow your rules.
M: Not my rules.
J: Your God's rules.
M: (Thinks for a moment.) My God or your God?
J: I have no God. I don't believe.
M: Because you don't want to give me a chance to say you have to obey my rules?
J: No. Because there is no God. (Looks up at the wall clock.) I've got to get to my class.
M: Ah. Me, too.
