Jesus In The Checkout Line : or locked courtyard
When standing in line at the checkout I remind myself that the individual in front of me is the Christ and that the injunction to love her as I love myself is literally true. A little miracle happens: I not only love her, but like her, and if her credit card is no good or her kohlrabi doesn't register, I don’t get mad. By the time it is my turn to chat with the dark-eyed checkout girl from Nicaragua I am madly in love. Michael Leach
Key to the Church
Wednesday morning I fumble with a wad of church keys. The Senior Warden’s words echo a litany of warning. “Remember, lock the gate to the garage and fifteen minutes before the noon service unlock only the side door that opens directly from the street into the chapel. All of the other gates and doors must remain locked. Do not forget, you will be the only person in the church buildings before and after the service. Make sure everyone exits through the chapel door.”
This is the first day I am entrusted with the keys to St. Mark’s Episcopal Church. It presides from the side of the UC Berkeley campus serving people of every stripe, including those who call nearby People’s Park their home. Freshly ordained I am to preside at the Wednesday noontime Chapel service. The weight of responsibility looms large in every cell and space of my being. “Oh my, what were they thinking giving the keys to the church to me?”
Thankfully the service proceeds without a hitch. I exchange chat with the two regular worshippers as they depart then welcome a first time guest. When she tells me she parked her car in the garage beneath the church but found the gate to come upstairs locked and had to walk around the entire building to find her way to the chapel, I invite her to follow me through the sanctuary and show her to the locked gate that leads to the garage. As we enter the completely enclosed courtyard between the sanctuary and garage gate, I am surprised, actually, caught on the cusp of deeply concerned with an edge of fear, when I notice a homeless man standing there.
I open the garage gate for the woman, say good-bye, re-lock it, then turn to the man who is approaching me. Long black dreadlocks crown his solemn face. A thick silver chain is looped over his sagging wide bluejeans. Even though I am thinking, “How in the world did you get in here?” I extend my hand and say, “Welcome. What may I do for you?”
Without hesitation he replies, “I want to pray.” Relieved I ask, “Shall we sit on this bench and pray together?” “No, I want to pray in the church.” A lightening fast dialogue rattles my mind. “Oh dear. Is this safe? Responsible? What if he refuses to leave? Steals or destroys something? What is the right thing to do? Oh God, what am I to do? This is Your church, not mine!” No doubt sensing my trepidation, the man offers, “I only want to pray for a little while.”
Who am I to refuse a man entry to God’s church? Who am I to stand in the way of a man who wants to pray? So I ask him to follow me, lead him through the sanctuary and invite him to sit with me in the chancel next to the altar. Eyes closed, the man is still as a statue for what feels like, well, forever. Fiercely I pray, “Oh God, show me what to do and please protect this holy place.” After awhile I ask, “Is there anything I may do for you?” “No,” he responds. “I would just like to sit here for awhile longer.” So I close my eyes and wait until he stands up. I rise, meet his dark eyes and these unplanned words spill from my mouth. “What is your name?” “Jesus.” “Jesus?” “Yes, my name is Jesus.”
Even as I write these words, warm tears grab my throat and wash my eyes. “Jesus, I am so grateful you came to pray with me.” Our eyes unlock. I lead him to the completely locked in courtyard where I met him, say good-bye, step inside, fall on my knees and weep great heaving sighs of wonder. Only then do I realize, the homeless man’s much oversized tee-shirt was gleaming white with not a smudge and his hands were clean, pretty as a dancer’s. Homeless man? Jesus? After awhile I return to the courtyard. Jesus is no longer there and I can find no way for him to exit.
Words through Debra Asis, by the grace of Infinite Generativity
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Michael Leach’s quote is found in today’s selection in An Ignatian Book of Days by Jim Manney is a series of daily reflections from the Spiritual Wisdom of St. Ignatius of Loyola. Throughout the book we hear the voices of St. Ignatius as well as many great thinkers and writers, long gone and present day, each uniquely revealing the way of finding God in all things. And that is my intention; to find God/Divine Presence/Ultimate Reality in whatever presents itself to me each day in 2024.
Each day I read, reflect and write on the selection, hoping to articulate the ways in which I come to know God/Divine Presence/Ultimate Reality via personal experience, impelled by the leading of my inner life.
INVITATION
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All words are generated by grace and the grit of a real human being,
Debra Asis writing challenge
