编者按：美国著名学者Gregory Rodriguez曾被法轮功成员进行改宗劝诱并邀请观看了在帕萨迪纳市的神韵晚会，但他们失败了。1月12日，他在《洛杉矶时报》记录了这一经历。

　　也许是因为我看起来容易受骗、充满烦恼或者特别需要精神指导，也许在公共场合我显得孤独。所以，从十多岁起，我就成为了所有团体劝诱改宗的首要目标。

　　不过我真的不在乎，和其他人不同。我一般不会把那些使我皈依其他教派的努力当成对我信仰的无意识攻击或是不尊重。事实上，多数人试图让我看他们关于光明的解释，而且从未操心地问过我，我所皈依的信仰或者哲学体系是什么。我想指出的是，出于某种或者其他原因，劝诱改宗者们已经先入为主地判断我精神贫乏，理应加入他们的俱乐部。你是可造之材，只要你愿意来。多么好的说法。

　　在高中时，母亲的一位同学竭力劝我阅读《摩门经》。一个好朋友则希望我成为他所说的基督教徒。（我试图告诉他，天主教徒就是基督徒。）

　　上大学时，更多具有奇异特征的教化团体信徒瞄上了我。虽然我从未受伤，但我在伯克利的新室友卷入了一个团体，这个团体的确切信条我从没搞清楚过。我所知道的是，直到他辞职几个月后，有时我醒来，会听到他在悬挂于壁橱前的一个盒子面前低吟的声音。

　　后来，甚至非异教的传统宗教信徒也向我伸出欢迎之手。十多个改革犹太教派（Reform Jewish）的朋友，甚至包括一位拉比，建议我在正统犹太教的浸礼池中进行洗礼，举行宗教浴，我因此可能成为他们教派的一员。

　　问题是，直到上周，这些尝试彻底终止。我没有皈依其他教派，但我向每个人的兴趣表示致意。我喜欢受人奉承，也喜欢被每个团体视为潜在成员。

　　那时，我在从伦敦到洛杉矶的途中遇到一位空姐，在交谈中发现她是一名法轮功成员，这个冥想修炼团体（或者邪教，也可能是宗教）使中国当局狼狈不堪。

　　几个月后，这位空姐突然给我发邮件，邀请我参加法轮功在帕萨迪纳市举办的一场中国传统歌舞盛会。她认为这对我来说是一种能够更加了解法轮功的途径。这时候，我才知道，法轮功打算用“真、善、忍”发展信徒。

　　从洛杉矶到柏林，我也看到过法轮功成员在中国使领馆前静坐。我知道他们正在抗议所谓正面临的中国政府的迫害。我含糊的理解是，北京当局把法轮功精神内涵的推动过程看成是对中国共产党及其预想的经济发展道路的威胁。

　　我认为中共政权害怕和鄙弃的所有团体不全都那么坏，于是接受了她的邀请。不幸的是，这个晚会相当一般。交织于传统歌舞之中的是他们有意设计、想要传达的关于他们修炼的基本原则，以及他们受中国当局迫害的故事。

　　那位空姐请我提出可能存在的任何问题。非常好，我想，这仅仅是我所受的其他劝诱改宗经历的延续。但随后中断，事情开始变味。

　　我问她关于法轮功使用术语的问题，那些信徒们使用类似“理”、“修炼”、“正确信息”等词汇时，他们是如何真正理解的？每次我问她时，她仅仅是反问我，我是如何界定它们的？换句话说，她是在用问题回答问题，很快的，我们的对话陷入循环，变得令人沮丧。有一次，她满怀戒备地说她不需要我相信她，我觉得我已经有点让她失望了。

　　我应该做一个讨人喜欢的人，但晚会的后半部分过于冗长，我开始烦躁不安，于是用手机查看电子信箱。后来，我批评了节目主持人的表演，这是我的错误，她说我应该更宽容一些。当我们走出剧院时，她又批评我愤世嫉俗。我开始觉得我根本不是个可塑之材了。

　　除了她，没有人向我施压要求我加入法轮功（我后来了解这不是法轮功组织的方式），但我明显感到她的失望，在精神层面上我根本没有陷进去。

　　我们分手时，她说我可以通过电子邮件向她提问题（她住在伦敦），但我知道我们的小插曲结束了。第二天，我为自己不像个高尚的客人而感到内疚，于是给她发了条表示感谢的短信，她没有回复。

　　终于，由于最近谈话的不愉快，我有些难过。是法轮功的问题？还是我的问题？也许我比起以往，变得令人更加难以说服、缺少耐心、缺少好奇心。

　　我希望不会这样，我可不想失去对其他所有自称为劝诱改宗者的吸引力。使真正的信徒对我失去信心是一种羞耻呢。

　　关于作者：

　　格雷戈里·罗德里格斯（Gregory Rodriguez），埃尔文高级研究员，无党派公共政策研究机构新美国基金会（New America Foundation）所属加利福尼亚学者项目负责人。经常在一些诸如纽约时报、华尔街日报、《经济学家》等主流媒报刊杂志撰写民族特性、社会凝聚力、同化、种族关系、宗教、移民、少数民族、人口、社会和政治趋势等问题文章。所著的《混血儿、私生子、孤儿与流浪者：美国墨西哥移民及种族未来》（Mongrels, Bastards, Orphans and Vagabonds: Mexican Immigration and the Future of Race in America）一书，被华盛顿邮报评为“2007年度最佳书籍”。

　　原文网址：http://www.latimes.comews/opinion/sunday/la-oe-rodriguez12-2009jan12,1,7390767.column

Romanced by Falun Gong

Los Angeles Times By: Gregory Rodriguez

Perhaps it's because I look gullible, confused or in special need of spiritual guidance. Maybe it's because I hang out alone in public places. But, since I was a teenager, I have been a prime target for proselytizers of all stripes.

I don't mind, really. Unlike other people I know, I don't generally view attempts to convert me as an automatic attack on my beliefs or a sign of disrespect. In fact, most people who try to get me to see their version of the light never bother to ask what faith or philosophy I already profess. I figure that, for some reason or another, proselytizers have prejudged me as both spiritually lacking and worthy enough to join their club. A fixer-upper, if you will. How nice.

In high school, the mother of a classmate tried hard to get me to read the Book of Mormon. A good friend wanted me to become what he called a Christian. (I tried to tell him that Catholics were Christians.)

In college, I was pursued by adherents of more exotic types of enlightenment and community. Though I never bit, my freshman roommate at Berkeley got involved in a group whose precise tenets I could never quite figure out. All I know is that until he quit a few months later, I would sometimes wake up to the sound of his chanting in front of a box that he had hung in his closet.

Later on, even members of traditionally non-proselytzing religions laid out the welcome mat. More than a couple of Reform Jewish friends -- and even one rabbi -- have suggested that I take a dip in the mikvah, the ritual bath, so I could become a member of their tribe.

The thing is, until last week, these forays ended well. I didn't convert, but I took everyone's interest as a compliment. I liked being courted and considered as a potential member of every community.

Then I met a flight attendant on a trip from London to L.A., struck up a conversation, and found out she was a practitioner of Falun Gong, the meditation practice (or cult, or maybe even religion) that has flummoxed the powers that be in China.

A few months after the trip, the flight attendant e-mailed me out of the blue and invited me to a Falun Gong-sponsored pageant of traditional Chinese song and dance in Pasadena. She said it would be a way for me to find out more about the practice, which by then I knew was meant to develop in its adherents truthfulness, compassion and tolerance.

I'd also seen Falun Gong members meditating in front of Chinese consulates and embassies from L.A. to Berlin. I knew they were protesting the persecution -- including imprisonment and charges of torture -- they face at the hands of the Chinese government. I understood, vaguely, that Beijing sees Falun Gong's push for spiritual meaning as a threat to the materialistic meaning the Communist Party and its economic gospel provide.

I figured any group that the authoritarian regime in Beijing fears and disdains couldn't be all that bad. I said yes to the invitation. Unfortunately, the show was pretty uninspired. Woven into the traditional song and dance were messages designed to convey the key tenets of their practice, along with the story of their persecution at the hands of the Chinese authorities.

My host invited me to ask her any questions I might have. Great, I thought, this was just how my other near-conversion experiences had proceeded. But then came intermission and things began to go sour.

Every time I asked her a question about the terminology the Falun Gong uses -- what did followers really mean when they used words like "reason," "cultivation" or "correct information" -- she'd just ask me how I would define them. In other words, she answered questions with questions, and soon our conversation became circular and more than a bit frustrating. At one point, she defensively said that she didn't need me to believe her, and I felt like I had somehow let her down.

I wanted to be a good sport, but the second half of the show was interminable, and I started to fidget and check my e-mail on my phone. I then made the mistake of criticizing the performance of the master of ceremonies, to which she responded that I should be more tolerant. As we walked out of the theater, she again criticized me for being cynical. I was beginning to feel that I wasn't much of a fixer-upper after all.

No one, least of all my host, exerted pressure on me to join Falun Gong (I've since read that that is not the group's way), but I clearly felt her sense of disappointment. I hadn't gotten into the spirit of things.

As we said goodbye, she said that I could send her questions by e-mail (she lives in London), but I already knew that our little dance was over. The next day, feeling guilty for having been a less than gracious guest, I texted her a thank-you note. She hasn't replied.

In the end, I'm a little saddened by my latest brush with conversion. Was the problem Falun Gong, or me? Maybe I'm a harder sell, less patient, less curious than I used to be.

I hope not. I don't want to lose my appeal to all the other would-be converters out there. It'd be a shame for true believers to lose their faith in me.

About the author:

Gregory Rodriguez is an Irvine Senior Fellow and Director of the California Fellows Program at New America Foundation, a non-partisan public policy institute. He has written widely on issues of national identity, social cohesion, assimilation, race relations, religion, immigration, ethnicity, demographics and social and political trends in such leading publications as The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal, and The Economist. He is the author of Mongrels, Bastards, Orphans and Vagabonds: Mexican Immigration and the Future of Race in America, which The Washington Post listed among the "Best Books of 2007."

grodriguez@latimescolumnists.com

(Los Angeles Times, January 12, 2009 )