I think I’ve had a religious experience. Yes. No shit. Lecturing a fresh batch of Freshmen the other day–I was once again challenged about my syllabus’ prohibition of using religious texts in support of a point of argument in an academic paper.

I think I’ve had a mini-stroke, or something, because I couldn’t remember how I did it last time.  (I really want to say, “Oh, shut the f**k up.”)  Instead–new day–new student–I’m the grownup here, I quiet my inner teenager.

So, I poll the class, arm extended imploringly, palm open and upward. Well, it was after lunch. All their blood drained away from the brain, digesting all those McLunches, only a few earnest kids raised in southern Sunday Schools ventured replies. One of them–an open-faced, sweet-appearing, chubby farm-girl-looking-person toward the back table says, “…whut….’cuz we’re, like, different, like, ‘n ever’buddy thanks they’re right…like…y’know.”

“Excellent point,” I aver, enthusiastically.  I’m losing them, though, and I know it; glazed eyes look back at me.

“If you don’t mind a little personal information, I’ll tell you that I have found inner peace and life’s purposes since coming to know the teachings of the Dalai Mamma.”

A few sat up straighter; two exchanged looks, eyebrows raised. The buggers were–praise Christ–paying attention. But then, so was I! I was winging it…it was working…I leaned toward the fat-farm-gal-looking student, confiding, “I’ve seen her. The Dalai Mamma sits on a throne–like in Sunday School cartoons–but she’s dressed in red–satin–a long, well-fitted gown with a slit up the front so that when she leans forward to, er, do her God things, one can see her legs.  She wears red patent-leather pumps with three inch heels. The most amazing thing about the Dalai Mamma” — you can tell I was grooving — into it — I was seeing what I was describing — “She Has Wings.”

They were waiting for a punch line.  I didn’t have one. This was one of those things that people who refer to themselves as Educators call a Teachable Moment and I was NOT going to fuck it up.  I went on.

“In the teachings of the Dalai Mamma–(an aside) and I personally believe they’re inspired–she lays out the pathway to enlightenment with such crystalline clarity–I’m just sure we would all prosper by following them. I surely have.”  A few were grinning. A few looked puzzled. The fat-farm-girl looked pissed. The moving about in their chairs and talking started.  They got it.

Thing is, so did I.  I’d had some kind of revelation and in it the Dalai Mamma came to me and saved my bacon.

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