My roommates and I recently picked up several copies of the “Good Book” courtesy of the Gideons.

I’m sure we weren’t alone. It would take a B.A. in transportation logistics to avoid the well-meaning old men, peddling their faith with the quiet elegance of a street whore.

The slender volume they were handing out featured the New Testament and a few selected books of the Old Testament.

It’s sort of like the Old Testament’s greatest hits, which is convenient, because that way you don’t have to flip past all the B-sides and filler.

More serious fans of God’s Work may want to check out the boxed set, known as “The Bible.”

Really hard-core fans may want to pick up the Book of Mormon, which is kind of like a collection of unreleased tracks. I’ve got a friend who says he’s got a live recording of some of God’s early stuff, but it’s really poor quality. In fact, I think it might actually be a Peter Frampton concert.

Summarizing the Old Testament wasn’t even the best part of the Gideons’ latest release. When I reached the end of the little green book, I found another surprise. (Actually, I didn’t read it through, I just opened it bass-ackwards).

Anyway, when I looked in back I noticed a page that read “My decision to accept Christ as my saviour.” Below was a blank space to sign and date.

“Well, hot damn!” I said aloud in the browsing library. I mean, who would have thought salvation would be easier than applying for a Sam’s Club card?

Lately though, that’s the message I’ve been fed by a number of Christian groups. If I accept Jesus, I am on the road to heaven. No mention is made of living a moral life, helping your fellow man, or even doing anything at all.

Just sign on the dotted line and you’re a member of the post-mortem “IN-crowd.” You will probably also become involved in many activities known as “fellowship.”

Though I’m using Christians as an example, I realize that every religious group participates, to some degree, in the same type of active recruitment.

I have nothing against Christians; who knows, I may even be one. But since they are the most visible affiliation in our little corner of the world, I thought they would make a great example.

I also should establish that my intent is not to knock anyone’s beliefs; on the contrary, I have the utmost respect for people with strong convictions. Like the Unabomber, for instance.

I guess what I have a problem with is the notion of trying to sell one’s religion to other people. All people have some sense of right and wrong guiding them along, and damn hell if I’m going to tell them they’re wrong.

But to my mind that’s the message from door-to-door religion salesmen.

“Hi there, sir. My name is Harvey Whiteshirt, and this is my partner Ned Blackpantsandtie. We’re here to offer you our FAN-tabulous new product: religion! And if you already have one, we can offer you a money back guarantee that our religion will provide 75 percent more salvation than our nearest competitor.”

I know these people are just sharing their beliefs, and there’s nothing wrong with that. But regardless of what you believe, why is it necessary that the largest number of people believe the same thing you do?

There is no way to escape that there is a kind of arrogance in it all. Not only that, but the whole notion is locked up in the intangibles.

If the whole message is to have faith in God, or Jesus, or whoever, what exactly does that entail? It seems the assumption is that if someone has true faith everything else will take care of itself. This seems like the wrong focus to me.

In fact, if people take it upon themselves to help others, it doesn’t matter if they’re doing it for God, Jesus, Mohammed, Buddha, or even for themselves. They’ve done the work of “God,” and that’s what’s important.

The spiritual motivations of people’s actions are fascinating, but they’re also abstract, and in my opinion, less important than the tangible applications of those beliefs.

If you have faith in what happens beyond human experience, fine.

Please realize, however, that all we really have is the work we do while we’re here. That work can exist free from all value judgment and spirituality. It just is.

I’m constantly re-working the Book of Ben, and until it’s perfect I’m not going to try to force it on anyone.

What I might do is read a passage to someone in the hopes that it might help him or her along. I don’t care if we’re on the same team, or if we call the same thing God, or anything else, for that matter.

I hope we can all move toward unity — not through conformity to a specific belief, but through acceptance of the entire range of beliefs.

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Ben Godar is a junior in sociology from Ames.