“…For in the image of God has God made man.”

Every year when the air grows warm and spring blooms in Ames, ISU’s campus is paid a visit.

Not necessarily by rain or sunshine or chirping birds, but by the most telling sign that spring is here: the arrival of campus evangelists.

I had the opportunity to catch evangelist Tom Short’s presentation last week. As usual, the ensuing “debate” between Short and his audience was little more than an insult-fest, an intellectual Ricki Lake episode, if you will excuse the oxymoron.

As the topic of discussion ranged from the reliability of the authors of the Bible, homosexuality and marriage, who’s going to hell (someone always gets told they’re going to hell at one of these functions) and various other issues, Ibegan to think about my own relationship with God.

I don’t know if I have one. I consider myself an agnostic. I do believe there must be some meaning to our lives and our existence.

There has to be some purpose for people to live and die and love and cry and hate and yearn. There must be some higher purpose, some reason for the constant triumphs and tragedies of humanity.

If not, this has been one sick cosmic joke. It cannot be as Nicholas Cage said in Moonstruck: “We are here to ruin ourselves and to break our hearts and love the wrong people and die,” even if it does feel that way.

And I have found there to be lessons of importance and purity in the Bible, what little I have read of it.

One does not need to be Christian to find the ethical purity and messages of love, compassion and equality that can be found in passages of the Bible. Of course, one can find those same principles in the Islamic faith, Buddhism, Shintoism, Hinduism and Judaism.

But Ialso cannot reconcile the belief that there must be some higher purpose and the fact that I find organized religion wanting.

I asked Mr. Short if it was possible in the eyes of God to strive to lead a pure ethical life without ever actually accepting Christ, if one could get to heaven without having faith in a Christian God.

Basically, the answer was no. As polite as Mr. Short was about answering my question, Icannot accept his answer.

I cannot accept the concept of eternal hell. OK, maybe if you make me watch Full House again and again or listen to Debbie Gibson’s “Electric Youth” on repeat, then I’ll repent.

But the concept of everlasting damnation doesn’t seem in keeping with a merciful God.

While the fact that many religious zealots can utilize the teachings of Christ or the Bible to justify their own prejudices towards homosexuals, women, other races or just those who believe and think differently is not in and of itself the fault of Christianity, it gives one pause.

But this is all water under the bridge.

When it comes to the arena of religion, I am more than content to recognize and respect the personal beliefs of others, but I have to wonder what the point of the exchange between Mr. Short and his audience was.

It wasn’t necessarily informative, in that mostly the crowd traded insults with Short and each other. Very little constructive discussion occurred while Iwas present.

During my time here at ISU, many times I’ve witnessed a call for people to come together and hold public forums and debates, to talk publicly about issues ranging from interdepartmental concerns to racism and sexism and a million other -isms.

But after a school year of reading columns and letters to the editor on the Opinion Page, watching debates such as the Catt Hall issue, and now the religious “debate” last week, Iquestion whether people really want to come together and discuss things.

Many times when such gatherings have occurred, people seem less interested in hearing what others have to say, and more concerned in making people listen to what they have to offer.

Both of these are important, and that is sometimes forgotten.

Are we really concerned with what other people think, or do we just want to make other people aware of what we ourselves believe?

There is a huge difference. One is based on the exchange of ideas. The other is based on selfish opportunism.

There’s an old story (Zen, I think) about two men, a teacher and a student, who were drinking tea. The teacher filled his student’s cup full to the brim with tea. And before the student could finish his drink, the teacher began filling his student’s cup again.

The student told his teacher to stop, that his cup could no longer hold any tea; it would spill out of the cup.

The teacher told his student to empty his cup, and then accept more tea. There was, after all, more tea to be consumed.

Sometimes I believe we concern ourselves more with the tea we already have, and don’t look for ways to empty our cups to receive more.

I don’t know if I believe in a Christian God. I don’t know if I believe Jesus was the Son of God.

All I do know is that I don’t know enough. And I can’t be as sure about my principles and beliefs as was Mr. Short or certain members of the crowd without supportive knowledge.

Call me ye of little faith if you wish, but logic always seemed more compelling than faith.

Perhaps that’s where the religious debate falters: it is difficult to convince someone of the validity of your position when your position is ultimately based on faith. When that faith doesn’t exist in someone else, you reach an impasse.

In the end, resolving conflict on any issue requires one to empty their cup of what they already know and then ask for more.

Somebody once said that true knowledge is knowing that you know nothing. Pretty smart guy.

Tim Davis is a senior in Theatre Studies from Carlisle. He is the editor of the Opinion Page.