During my first trip to the New York Encounter seven years ago, Pakistani Christian Paul Bhatti talked about forgiving the men who had killed his brother Shabaz for being an outspoken Christian in politics. Frank Simmonds, a former homeless drug addict, spoke about his journey to sobriety, fatherhood and faith. And I stood in the ice-cold lobby of the Manhattan Center in the middle of New York City, handing out programs, greeting guests and talking to another volunteer named Joe.
I had decided to fly to New York from Portland, Ore., to attend the Encounter, a three-day free cultural festival that takes place every winter in Manhattan. When I arrived, I was handed a purple T-shirt and a stack of programs and assigned to the welcoming and coat check area along with a group of college students from Kansas.
In one of the lulls between events, I started to talk with Joe, a burly chemistry student wearing a red and white University of Nebraska beanie and matching sweatshirt, his volunteer T-shirt pulled on over the top. We talked about music, books and movies, about what we were studying in college. But every time I made any sort of a claim, whether I liked Sufjan Stevens or that I was bored of engineering school, Joe would ask me why. At a certain point, feeling like I was being asked to mount a courtroom defense of everything I thought and believed, I shot a glance at Fiona, another of the students from Kansas. “He does this to everyone,” she whispered, leaning over. “You’ll get used to it.” Great.