A "RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE" usually implies an epiphany of sorts, an experience profound and electric. At least so it was in the pastoral world before the Church and Billy Graham fused with MTV, but a modern, urban brush with religion--or rather, its proselytes--can be a queasy, exploitive experience. Twice this semester I've been spiritually solicited, and the encounters have left me feeling cynical and defensive.

Searching the Union for an empty seat and a familiar face, I spotted Chris, an entrymate, chatting with someone I didn't recognize. Setting my tray down, I said hello to Chris, and joined their conversation. John was a stranger to Chris, too. He had just sat down, out-going and chatty. John discovered our entryway connection, and continued the conversation with the friendly interrogation of a Freshman Week encounter.

The conversation bumped along between bites of food until John interjected, "Hey, what religious interests do you have?" Disconcerted by this surge of enthusiasm, Chris and I made agnostic evasions. "See," he continued, "I'm involved in a Bible Discussion Group and we're trying to..." The loose friendliness of our chat vaporized.

"So, do you have time in your life for this kind of experience?," he continued. Not just time, but time in my Life--capital `L,' the whole significant shebang, because he wasn't selling candy bars for the Spanish club or subscriptions to "Newsweek", this was God, the Afterlife, and the salvation of my soul.

I SOUND SARCASTIC, and that's because John put me on the defensive. The sincere consideration of my religious beliefs, yea or nay, is important to me. But this serious issue, which John had made his product, coupled with his sly presentation, nettled me, closed up my ears. His cordial hustle had been effective enough that I answered him straightforwardly--but negatively. Chris just rolled his eyes, and shook his head. And in less than half a minute, his unsuccessful spiel through, John was gone.

That sudden departure drove home the one-track, hidden purpose of his cheerful approach. I felt turned off, pissed off, and used. He hadn't really cared about us as people, or even as possibly interesting lunchtime companions; John wanted recruits. That, alone, is fine.

Of course he wants to spread his message, gather a flock, but why not be upfront about it? He could be straightforward without being blunt. His honesty wouldn't have scared anyone off--or turned any stomachs. His glib, manipulative preamble robbed his offer of any dignity or sincerity and drew only suspicion and distaste. Why does God have to creep in the back door?

JOHN OF THE Church of Christ isn't the only one using this crafty amicability. Spring Break, slumped amongst my luggage on the subway, two friendly women smiled and spoke to me. Then, after 15 minutes of genial concern, the conversation changed direction.

These well dressed women, make-up heavily and skillfully applied, were Mormons, fulfilling their year-long missionary requirement. What religion are you, would you be interested in a Mormon meeting, what's your phone number, where do you live, can we stop by, here's a pamphlet. Once again a friendly introduction had accelerated into a heavenly sales pitch. Trapped in the moving subway, I could only grind my teeth into a smile as disingenuous as their's. After all the bubbly inquiries, I was just one more requirement to be met in their year of divine duty.

Their shallow preliminary chatter seems irreconcilable with a heartfelt faith. Either they were mindlessly falling into a sort of carnival barker's patter, or they were consciously, and cunningly, manipulating a friendly overture into a "sale." This kind of superficiality is nauseating even in vacuum salesmen. A religious faith should be an unadorned conviction to be candidly and sincerely shared; it should not be the tail-end proposition of a maze of small-talk.

I am not a religious person. Neither am I anti-religious. I am uncertain and concerned about a personal resolution that could change me. But organized, deceptive religion is alienating, even when it's a satellite-dish away. Face to face manipulation only builds walls of bias no Word can reach through.