The Pickle Man Comes to Uganda

Many years ago, when my boyfriend at the time and I were commuting back and forth between Philadelphia and Washington, DC, moving our stuff before entering graduate school there, we discovered "The Pickle Man."

The commute, by car, from Philly to DC takes about three hours and about three-quarters of the way through in central Maryland, all radio stations seem to cut out and you are left with only a handful of choices. Neither one of us liked country music so that was out, we weren't fluent enough in Spanish to be able to keep up with talk shows, and every other choice seemed to Evangelical Christian preachers ranting and raving about the sinfulness of homosexuality and abortion, the rightful path of the Republican Party, and just, in general, how most of the species was pretty much condemned to hell no matter what he (or she) did. Not finding any comfort in those options, and neither of us being Republicans, we normally shut off the radio and rode in silence for the final half-hour of the trip.

On one trip, however, having exhausted the CD collection (we couldn't afford Satellite Radio), he insisted on listening to this one preacher who seemed to have captured his attention. I initially tuned out---I have never been big on preaching, especially if I perceive the message to be hateful towards others---but, eventually, this guy caught my attention too.

His message was positive and uplifting. Although he was preaching, essentially, an Evangelical gospel, he was doing it in a way that made me feel good. Plus, he told this story about his father who had once been a Rabbi and had converted to Christianity with such an amusing metaphor that I never forgot it.

He said that his father had been a Rabbi for his mature adult life but, having discovered Christianity, decided to convert. He then compared his father to a cucumber who had become a pickle. He said that his father had been a cucumber while a Jew, and had become a pickle as a Christian. His father had "dipped himself in brine" and had emerged a pickle.

A Christian Pickle.

However, he didn't say that a pickle was better than a cucumber...in fact, he said the opposite. He told his radio audience that his father was the SAME MAN. He was both a cucumber and a pickle and neither one was better because they are, essentially, the SAME. His father just liked feeling like a pickle more than a cucumber...but he still loved God just the same way. He only liked the taste of the "brine" of a pickle better than the "water" of a cucumber.

He finished up by saying that it didn't matter what religious path you chose to follow to love God, because God loves you whether you are a pickle or a cucumber. The most important thing was to find a way to love God because God lives inside of you.

It was one of the most uplifting messages (despite the strange metaphor) I had heard in awhile. Mostly because, although I choose to follow of path of broad spirituality rather than an organized religion, this man was saying the EXACT same thing I believed to be true in my heart.

The next time we drove down to DC we searched the radio frantically to find him again...but we never had any luck.

Ed, my boyfriend at the time, and I joked about "The Pickle Man," as we came to call him, for years but we always kept hoping we might find him again. We were never in the car long enough, that first time, to figure out who he was so he remained, in our world at least, the mysterious "Pickle Man."

Then, about three years later, I came downstairs from the second floor in our Arlington, VA, townhouse to find Ed on the couch watching late-night television...totally engrossed.

"Look!" he told me, "I can't believe it...but I think THAT is 'The Pickle Man!'"

I glanced at the screen briefly and saw some youngish-guy with a shiny face and even shinier teeth talking to an audience that was completely enraptured.

"Why are you watching late-night Evangelical Christians preaching on public TV?" I asked. "I know you like to watch strange things in the middle of the night but this is bizarre...even for you..."

"Patti, just sit down and listen for a damn second...I am telling you, this is 'The Pickle Man'!! I found him!" he insisted.

To humor him (thinking: there was no WAY this shiny-faced and toothy young dude could possibly be the "Pickle Man"), I sat down and listened.

And, dammit, Ed was completely right. It WAS "The Pickle Man." We watched the entire show, felt the same uplifting feelings, found out when it would be on again, and went to bed...we had found "The Pickle Man" again.

His name is Joel Osteen.

He is now one of the (if not THE) most popular preachers in America. He has built a religious empire, has written four or five books, and runs one of the largest ministries in the world. Hell, he had to buy an old baseball (or maybe football...but one of them) stadium in Texas to accommodate the growing size of his congregation.

The reason for this, although I am not a member of his congregation, is because his message is one of compassion and decency. He doesn't make God out to be (as the scary priests and nuns of my Catholic childhood did) some mean Entity bent on punishing humans for their mistakes...he makes God accessible. He uses the stories of the Bible to illustrate basic lessons about being human. He doesn't condemn people for having made mistakes but he encourages them to be more God-like. Yes, he still does have an Evangelical message, but it is a POSITIVE one. For that reason, I have always liked Joel Osteen even if I don't agree with everything he says.

Which is why I brought "The Pickle Man" to Uganda.

Specifically, to my driver, Robert.

Robert is deeply religious and also has one of the kindest hearts on the planet. Ten months on, and after having heard my friends experiences with their drivers, I truly feel I am blessed by having Robert in my life. He is one of the nicest and most decent human beings I have ever met...and he works for ME. How lucky am I?

The only issue Robert and I have occasionally is that I tend not to talk religion with him. For the first six months, he tried to get me to read the Bible with him but I refused. And we had a rough couple of weeks when he was in training to take over being the preacher of his church when we disagreed about what his teacher said about taking every story in the Bible as literal truth...but we eventually worked it out.

He finally got me to open up about my beliefs and we discovered that we, for the most part, shared the same ideas. We started talking openly about religion on a regular basis and, right before I left for the U.S. in June, he asked:

"Why don't you follow a preacher? What you are saying you believe is exactly what we teach in my church and I know plenty of preachers who can show you the same thing through Christianity..."

I have a lot of teachers, I promised him, but I don't need just one. I prefer to keep my mind open to other ideas instead of just one path.

"So there are NO Christian preachers that you like?" he asked. "Not even one?"

Then I thought about 'The Pickle Man" and told him about Joel Osteen.

"Joe Offspring? I have never heard this man preach," he told me.

"Osteen," I told him. "He used to be Jewish, like his father, but then the whole family decided to become pickles...well, nevermind, I like him and he is Christian," I related.

Robert looked dubious about this whole Joe Offspring, Jewish/Christian Pickle-Preacher story...

So, when I was home, I picked up one of Joel Osteen's books and a DVD of a series of his talks. I gave them to Robert when I got back.

For the first week, I noted that "The Pickle Man's" book was not traveling in the car with us as the Bible does, so I figured Robert had discounted the information. The DVD was never seen again, either.

Oh well, I thought, I tried.

Then, this morning, when I got in the car, I found "The Pickle Man's" book on the front seat...carefully laminated like Robert's Bibles.

I was shocked.

"You like him?" I asked.

"Madame Boss, this man has such a positive message! He says the same things I do when I give a sermon at Church and I have learned so much more about how I feel sometimes because of this man! He is a wonderful Christian!" he exclaimed.

He then showed me the book and I noted that he had underlined, in pen, entire sections. He had also taken copious notes and stuck them in the back cover.

"Do you ever think that you can't break free of your past? That God is judging you on what you did before or on what your parents did?" he asked.

Yes, I confided, I used to have big problems with that...but not so much anymore.

He reached behind my seat (we were sitting in a traffic jam) so briskly, and whipped the book out of his briefcase so fast, that he nearly took my eye out when it flew past my head as he slammed it open on my lap.

"Sorry, sorry! I didn't mean to almost hit you in the head with the book...but here!! Look...HERE...this is the section that talks about that..." he told me.

"I know, Robert, I have read this book too. That's why I got it for you."

During his lunch break, he came into my office and shyly asked me if I could come outside for a few minutes.

I went out with him and he asked me if I would be willing to listen to a sermon he had written for church this Sunday based on the chapter he had read about forgiving your past in Osteen's book that had inspired him to find corresponding stories about in the Bible.

I sat down under a tree and ate my lunch while he preached. It was beautiful.

I instinctively clapped and he looked aghast.

"I am preaching the Word of God, you don't clap!" he corrected.

Still, I told him it was beautiful and that I would love to hear him preach in public one day.

As we drove home, with Joel Osteen's shiny face staring up at me from the console in the jeep, I thought, "Damn, what a circular route 'The Pickle Man' has made in my life."

Robert asked me, upon dropping me off, if I needed to borrow "Mr. Off-Steen's" book because I seemed sad earlier in the week...

Nah, I said, just tell me another story tomorrow when we go for a drive.

I am glad that "The Pickle Man" made it to Uganda...many years later.