August 10, 2024
God’s Green Frisbee
An almost fluorescent Adidas tracksuit, glasses in a rectangular and thick plastic frame strapped so tightly to his skull that they were seemingly sewn into this flesh, a generic cap, black leather-adjacent gloves, an obnoxiously large JBL speaker, a grey backpack, and of course: the green frisbee.
This man, name unknown, roams Bois de la Cambre in Brussels looking for his latest prey. His victims? Freeloaders, unassuming, and most likely unfaithful youngsters that will face his verbal wrath or the unmatched pace of his frisbee, or both.
I was sitting at this parc. Conversing, enjoying good company, having a ‘real’ conversation, and to my fault, smoking a cigarette. I brought my, by contrast, modest JBL speaker, doing no harm.
I was awoken out of the flow of my peaceful human interaction, brought down from the cloud that I rode while listening to the passive noise of all the people in the parc, shaken back into a much darker reality than I ever wanted to inhabit, by him.
“What you’re doing here, it actually bothers the ENTIRE parc. I mean for example, me, I just want to stand here and throw my frisbee, but the smoke, it really, really disturbs me and now I’m getting sick. Once I’m sick, I mean..”
I’m not going to pretend that I understood his passionate French rant in its entirety but clearly the man was agitated and that was enough to understand that he’s unhappy with our behaviour.
Of course, Bois de la Cambre isn’t exactly a small park. Plus the francophone world is full of smokers, etc. etc. I don’t think it’s necessary to defend why it’s rather common to have a cigarette in a public parc with plenty of space.
Yet our protagonist did not feel the same way. He stood his ground firmly, literally, as he planted his agile feet mere metres behind us. I turned around to see him pretend to look at the horizon, but I could feel every bit of his gaze observing me and my every move.
He also played some questionable David Guetta-esque remix of some generic early 2010s sounding radio song– not the biggest fan. I’d argue the music choice was a bigger insult to the parc-goers than my cigarette ever was..but I digress.
Not only was I disturbed, and my peace and calm interrupted, rendered irreproducible- I now also found myself in the panopticon of his creation.
So I lit another cigarette.
Just like my grandmother jumping awake midway through the deepest stage of her REM sleep cycle at the first microseconds of the adhan entering her apartment from the nearby mosque, he too awoke from his observant role, and stood in front of me. As agile as ever.
“Listen, I already told you that this is not good…” (in French, etc.)
We argued. He declared himself the spokesperson of the entire parc population. I argued that that’s bullshit. We were lost in the cycle of our argument that could have gone on forever, until he told me to seek help.
“Go to this website, it will help you. I’m going to spell it out for you:
J W . O R G”
I went on the website.
So Jehova’s Witnesses believe that they are living through the final days of our earthly existence. We’re edging armageddon, and it would be a good idea to join God’s kingdom on earth before it is formally established since those that don’t join face total extinction.
They also hate smoking.
Jehova’s Witnesses have a magazine called THE WATCHTOWER. In the June 1, 1973 issue the magazine’s authors declared that:
“From that time forward, and individual would have to quit smoking before he could be baptised and become one of Jehova’s Witnesses”
Jehovah Witnesses don't smoke. Famously, or infamously, Jehova’s Witnesses don’t celebrate birthdays either. There are many arguments as to why, but the one that stands out to me the most is that
“The only commemoration that Christians are required to keep involves, not a birth, but a death—that of Jesus. (Luke 22:17-20) This should not be surprising, for the Bible says that “the day of death is better than the day of birth.” (Ecclesiastes 7:1)”
No smoking, no birthdays, plenty of humility, plenty of modesty, which is defined as having a “proper estimate of ourselves, and an awareness of our limitations”.
That’s all well and good, having inhabited a rather apocalyptic faith community myself I understand that sentiment. And yet, my dear frisbee man, I hate to break it to you: you are not aware of your limitations. Frisbee man, you are anything but modest.
Not only do you blast questionable tunes out of an absurdly large speaker in a public parc, you also ‘invited’ about 20 parc-goers to play frisbee, only to pull out the most outrageous moves I have ever seen.
A child (!) threw the frisbee towards you, and you proceeded to do a half spin, grabbing the frisbee with your backhand, spinning forward, lifting your right leg, and throwing the frisbee, without looking, to another child.
Then you juggled the frisbee.
You basically did those two moves over and over again but the point stands: you were bragging.
I don’t want to ridicule you. I just want to understand you, frisbee man.
Because you can’t pick and choose.
You can’t reject cigarettes, embrace modesty in theory, and then perform the least modest acts that I have ever beared witness to.
Yet undeniably, you are also a god in your own right, with a frisbee in your hand. Never have my eyes gazed on more talent in the world of flat disks.
So what is it? Do you crave earthly pleasures and glory, or patient reverence to join God’s kingdom?
You could move millions with your frisbee. You could defy your own destiny– and defy your own god to become one yourself.
...
After my 4th cigarette, he took off. The evening sky radiated a beautiful purple hue. We watched him walk into the horizon, until he suddenly vanished. No trace of him, his fluorescent stripes, or his green frisbee.