A Test of Faith
Neil Douglas Newton
You don’t expect things to change after fourteen years on the job. A nerdy accountant with a hardware giant in in the garment district in Manhattan doesn’t expect change.
I was letting my spreadsheet recalculate when I heard some raised voices. I ambled over toward the source of the noise and found Karen in a heated argument with our head of HR, Beth Dahlberg.
“I’ve been putting this crèche on my desk every Christmas for the last twelve years. What is the problem?” I heard Karen say.
Beth puffed herself up a couple of notches. “We’ve already been through this. There are people who aren’t Christian and they’re offended by this.”
“Who’s offended?” Karen answered. “No one has ever said they’re offended?”
“Well maybe people are being polite.”
“In New York?”
“Karen I’m just protecting the company. If someone is offended they can make a complaint.” She leaned in closer and whispered conspiratorially. “We could even be sued. It happened in Denver.”
“I don’t care what happened in Denver. This is like a family. Everyone understands here.”
“Well what about Bob?”
“What about Bob?” I asked.
Beth jumped. “I was just telling Karen that…well I know that you’re Jewish and I was telling her that…well maybe you didn’t feel comfortable.”
I started to laugh. “I’m not offended at all. Karen is Catholic. I have five Catholic neighbors.”
“Well then you should understand what I’m-“
“I’m God father to my next door neighbor’s daughter. They’re Catholic too. How offended can I be by a crèche?”
“But Karen needs to understand-“
“How long have you been in New York?”
She stared at me, her mouth open. “Uh…well…I moved here from Des Moines two years ago.”
I heard a voice behind me that I recognized. “What’s going on? Things are getting a little loud.”
Beth winced. Gail had come to pay us a visit. In all her encounters with Beth sparks had flown. Gail was an agnostic and Beth had used her as an example of someone whose beliefs needed to be defended, something Gail didn’t appreciate.
“Are you telling Karen that she can’t have her crèche?” she asked Beth.
Beth huffed. “I’ve already discussed this with Bob. This is company policy.”
“Who developed the policy?”
“I did.”
“Due to a complaint from who?”
“Well we have Bob and other people who-“
“Bob obviously isn’t offended. And since you’re going to ask, neither am I.”
“Bob is just trying to be polite. It seems to be what everyone in New York is required to do.”
“Last year Karen made me Latkes. A bit beyond politeness.”
“Latkes? They are…”
Karen smiled. “They’re potato pancakes for Chanukah. I make them every year for Bob and Tessa.”
Beth seemed panic-stricken. “I don’t understand.”
“That’s obvious.”
“Excuse me. I have a call to make.”
She stalked off, her back stiff, radiating anger.
“What should I do?” Karen asked me.
“Ignore her.”
“Maybe I should put the crèche in my desk.”
Gail snorted. “Don’t cave, Karen. We all have your back.”
“It’s going to become a big hassle.”
I put my hand on the crèche. “She doesn’t get to cause trouble unless she has a good reason. This is about her and control.”
“What can we do?”
“I’ll go talk to her.”
“Bob I-“
“Don’t worry.”
I walked down the hall to Beth’s office. She was typing something. When she saw me she jerked her head back to her screen and proceeded to pretend I wasn’t there.
“Beth?”
“I’m busy.”
“I’d like to speak reasonably with you about this.”
“Whatever you have to say, you’ll have to hold it until a meeting I plan to have. With Mr. McDaniel”
“We don’t need to have a meeting. There isn’t anyone who is offended by anything here.”
“You don’t know that. We have Fatima downstairs. She’s the only Muslim in the company. She might not be too happy seeing Christian or Jewish decorations. Have you asked her?”
I smiled. “Fatima and bunch of other’s came to my house for the Passover Seder last spring.”
“What does that prove?””
“It proves no one is offended by other people’s holidays or their happiness. Why don’t you let Karen keep her crèche?”
“What you aren’t taking into account is that Karen’s desk and all of facilities here are owned by the company which recently developed a policy that exists to defend the sensibilities of anyone who does or will work for us.”
“Who is offended?”
“I don’t know. We might hire an atheist tomorrow who might find Karen’s crèche offensive.”
I found myself getting angry. “I’ve lived with these people forty hours a week for years. They’re my friends. Not generous tolerance, but real friendship. If someone was really offended we’d deal with it. But Karen, the crèche, this is part of my life. To be honest the only attitude this is offensive is yours. You have no right to tell me who I can like and who I want to respect or make happy. So until you can provide me with an actual living person who is offended, I think you need to back off.”
I realized I was breathing hard. Beth’s eyes were wide and she seemed to be searching for something to say. I turned and walked out.
Fatima passed me in the hall. “Just wanted to you to know we all heard that.”
“Sorry. Did I do the wrong thing?”
She laughed. “The thing that most people who aren’t from New York don’t understand is that our grandparents all had to wallow in the same shit to survive and raise their children so they could have a better life. It makes you feel a sense of kinship with all your fellow sufferers. It’s a little too deep a concept for Beth.”
I just groaned.
“It’ll work out, Bob. Look I have to go to a meeting. We’ll talk later.”
The next day I came in to find the crèche missing from Karen’s desk. She looked up as I came by. “Better keep her off my back. No one will miss it.”
“It’s part of my life. I never thought about it being important to me because it’s been here year after year. I miss it”
She shook her head. “I don’t know what to do.”
I thought for a second. “I’m taking an early lunch.”
Later that day Beth walked past my cubicle. Her eyes widened. “What is that?” she asked pointing to my desk.
“A very nice devotional scene. I bought it at a very upscale store. They specialize in reproductions of renaissance art. This is a copy of a statue created in the sixteenth century.”
Her face got red. “That a crèche.”
“I guess it is, technically. You know I have seen things like this is galleries and museums. A lot of art from that period is based on religious themes.” I smiled sweetly.
“I’m going to have to verify all this. Where did you get it?”
“I can’t remember the name. Let’s go ask Gail.”
“Why Gail?”
“It was her idea to go to the gallery. She loves that place and she wanted to show it to me. We’ve been talking about it for weeks.”
A couple of twists and turns through the cube farm took us to Gail’s desk. She looked up when she saw us. “Sorry to bother you, Gail. What was the name of that store we went to?”
“It’s called the Gallery Store.” She turned to Beth. “It’s a Gallery that sells reproductions.”
But Beth wasn’t listening. She was staring at the menorah on Gail’s desk. “What is that?”
“A reproduction of a twelfth century menorah. An amazing piece.”
Beth dry washed her hands. “You can’t have religious paraphernalia on your desks!”
Gail smiled slightly. “I have no religion. This is art.”
“Same for me,” I said. “People have these things in their homes. They’re in offices all over the city. Do you think I’m trying to express my faith with my sculpture? It’s not my faith.”
I thought Beth was about to cry. She walked away from us without saying a word.
The holiday party went like it always did. There was a short talk about all our respective holiday traditions. And then of course, there was food. I zeroed in on the grape leaves which I didn’t get much of during the year. While I was downing my fourth one, Gail came up to me.
“Do you miss Beth?” she asked, smiling.
“I think it was a bit extreme to resign. It was like she lost a battle. I thought HR came about to help people.”
“It was all about her.”
“How many Beths are there in this country? I see this crap on T.V. all the time.”
“No doubt we’ve become confused. I think we need some reform.”
“True. But right now I don’t want to think about Beth. Another glass of wine?
She smiled and nodded. “Certainly”.
I was letting my spreadsheet recalculate when I heard some raised voices. I ambled over toward the source of the noise and found Karen in a heated argument with our head of HR, Beth Dahlberg.
“I’ve been putting this crèche on my desk every Christmas for the last twelve years. What is the problem?” I heard Karen say.
Beth puffed herself up a couple of notches. “We’ve already been through this. There are people who aren’t Christian and they’re offended by this.”
“Who’s offended?” Karen answered. “No one has ever said they’re offended?”
“Well maybe people are being polite.”
“In New York?”
“Karen I’m just protecting the company. If someone is offended they can make a complaint.” She leaned in closer and whispered conspiratorially. “We could even be sued. It happened in Denver.”
“I don’t care what happened in Denver. This is like a family. Everyone understands here.”
“Well what about Bob?”
“What about Bob?” I asked.
Beth jumped. “I was just telling Karen that…well I know that you’re Jewish and I was telling her that…well maybe you didn’t feel comfortable.”
I started to laugh. “I’m not offended at all. Karen is Catholic. I have five Catholic neighbors.”
“Well then you should understand what I’m-“
“I’m God father to my next door neighbor’s daughter. They’re Catholic too. How offended can I be by a crèche?”
“But Karen needs to understand-“
“How long have you been in New York?”
She stared at me, her mouth open. “Uh…well…I moved here from Des Moines two years ago.”
I heard a voice behind me that I recognized. “What’s going on? Things are getting a little loud.”
Beth winced. Gail had come to pay us a visit. In all her encounters with Beth sparks had flown. Gail was an agnostic and Beth had used her as an example of someone whose beliefs needed to be defended, something Gail didn’t appreciate.
“Are you telling Karen that she can’t have her crèche?” she asked Beth.
Beth huffed. “I’ve already discussed this with Bob. This is company policy.”
“Who developed the policy?”
“I did.”
“Due to a complaint from who?”
“Well we have Bob and other people who-“
“Bob obviously isn’t offended. And since you’re going to ask, neither am I.”
“Bob is just trying to be polite. It seems to be what everyone in New York is required to do.”
“Last year Karen made me Latkes. A bit beyond politeness.”
“Latkes? They are…”
Karen smiled. “They’re potato pancakes for Chanukah. I make them every year for Bob and Tessa.”
Beth seemed panic-stricken. “I don’t understand.”
“That’s obvious.”
“Excuse me. I have a call to make.”
She stalked off, her back stiff, radiating anger.
“What should I do?” Karen asked me.
“Ignore her.”
“Maybe I should put the crèche in my desk.”
Gail snorted. “Don’t cave, Karen. We all have your back.”
“It’s going to become a big hassle.”
I put my hand on the crèche. “She doesn’t get to cause trouble unless she has a good reason. This is about her and control.”
“What can we do?”
“I’ll go talk to her.”
“Bob I-“
“Don’t worry.”
I walked down the hall to Beth’s office. She was typing something. When she saw me she jerked her head back to her screen and proceeded to pretend I wasn’t there.
“Beth?”
“I’m busy.”
“I’d like to speak reasonably with you about this.”
“Whatever you have to say, you’ll have to hold it until a meeting I plan to have. With Mr. McDaniel”
“We don’t need to have a meeting. There isn’t anyone who is offended by anything here.”
“You don’t know that. We have Fatima downstairs. She’s the only Muslim in the company. She might not be too happy seeing Christian or Jewish decorations. Have you asked her?”
I smiled. “Fatima and bunch of other’s came to my house for the Passover Seder last spring.”
“What does that prove?””
“It proves no one is offended by other people’s holidays or their happiness. Why don’t you let Karen keep her crèche?”
“What you aren’t taking into account is that Karen’s desk and all of facilities here are owned by the company which recently developed a policy that exists to defend the sensibilities of anyone who does or will work for us.”
“Who is offended?”
“I don’t know. We might hire an atheist tomorrow who might find Karen’s crèche offensive.”
I found myself getting angry. “I’ve lived with these people forty hours a week for years. They’re my friends. Not generous tolerance, but real friendship. If someone was really offended we’d deal with it. But Karen, the crèche, this is part of my life. To be honest the only attitude this is offensive is yours. You have no right to tell me who I can like and who I want to respect or make happy. So until you can provide me with an actual living person who is offended, I think you need to back off.”
I realized I was breathing hard. Beth’s eyes were wide and she seemed to be searching for something to say. I turned and walked out.
Fatima passed me in the hall. “Just wanted to you to know we all heard that.”
“Sorry. Did I do the wrong thing?”
She laughed. “The thing that most people who aren’t from New York don’t understand is that our grandparents all had to wallow in the same shit to survive and raise their children so they could have a better life. It makes you feel a sense of kinship with all your fellow sufferers. It’s a little too deep a concept for Beth.”
I just groaned.
“It’ll work out, Bob. Look I have to go to a meeting. We’ll talk later.”
The next day I came in to find the crèche missing from Karen’s desk. She looked up as I came by. “Better keep her off my back. No one will miss it.”
“It’s part of my life. I never thought about it being important to me because it’s been here year after year. I miss it”
She shook her head. “I don’t know what to do.”
I thought for a second. “I’m taking an early lunch.”
Later that day Beth walked past my cubicle. Her eyes widened. “What is that?” she asked pointing to my desk.
“A very nice devotional scene. I bought it at a very upscale store. They specialize in reproductions of renaissance art. This is a copy of a statue created in the sixteenth century.”
Her face got red. “That a crèche.”
“I guess it is, technically. You know I have seen things like this is galleries and museums. A lot of art from that period is based on religious themes.” I smiled sweetly.
“I’m going to have to verify all this. Where did you get it?”
“I can’t remember the name. Let’s go ask Gail.”
“Why Gail?”
“It was her idea to go to the gallery. She loves that place and she wanted to show it to me. We’ve been talking about it for weeks.”
A couple of twists and turns through the cube farm took us to Gail’s desk. She looked up when she saw us. “Sorry to bother you, Gail. What was the name of that store we went to?”
“It’s called the Gallery Store.” She turned to Beth. “It’s a Gallery that sells reproductions.”
But Beth wasn’t listening. She was staring at the menorah on Gail’s desk. “What is that?”
“A reproduction of a twelfth century menorah. An amazing piece.”
Beth dry washed her hands. “You can’t have religious paraphernalia on your desks!”
Gail smiled slightly. “I have no religion. This is art.”
“Same for me,” I said. “People have these things in their homes. They’re in offices all over the city. Do you think I’m trying to express my faith with my sculpture? It’s not my faith.”
I thought Beth was about to cry. She walked away from us without saying a word.
The holiday party went like it always did. There was a short talk about all our respective holiday traditions. And then of course, there was food. I zeroed in on the grape leaves which I didn’t get much of during the year. While I was downing my fourth one, Gail came up to me.
“Do you miss Beth?” she asked, smiling.
“I think it was a bit extreme to resign. It was like she lost a battle. I thought HR came about to help people.”
“It was all about her.”
“How many Beths are there in this country? I see this crap on T.V. all the time.”
“No doubt we’ve become confused. I think we need some reform.”
“True. But right now I don’t want to think about Beth. Another glass of wine?
She smiled and nodded. “Certainly”.