Love, reign o'er me...

I had just finished cleaning up my classroom and returned the attendance sheet at Sister's office, pretty much on the opposite side of the church where I had parked my car. As I was leaving the school yard, the rain started to pour. With each couple of steps I took, it got more violent, heavy. I didn't have an umbrella, so I ran to the church.

In the back of my mind I was thinking that I should stay for confession--half an hour away. I thought that, by some chance, maybe God was drawing me closer. I am not usually that superstitious. I mean, often times I see how one uncontrollable event leads me to another, I just usually (at least publicly) go along and not question whether things turned out that way because of God, or fate, or what have you.

I have to say, I now deeply believe I was meant to walk into that church, that day. When I got in, there was a homeless man sitting at the piano, being scolded by our Pastor. The homeless man was told to leave, else the police were contacted to take him away. The homeless man kept asking "isn't a church supposed to be a sanctuary? what time is your service, I thought mass was at 5:30 and 7:30?" One of our Vietnamese deacons came by and scolded the man much more harshly than the Pastor, who at least tried to stay calm (if not just cold and indifferent).

There was a boy in the church with his parents. A young Vietnamese teenager. It appeared as if he wanted to stop the Pastor, but his parents kept holding him back and saying something to him. The Pastor finally called the police (actually the sheriff), and walked away. No longer berated, the man began to play the piano.

The man was a tall black male, he had a beard and mustache, with a big afro. He was wearing fatigues, or at least camo pants, a large dirt and sweat stained white t-shirt, he had a military hat that matched his pants, and a green jacket, almost a wind breaker. Sitting next to the pews near the piano were two bags of milk and bread. He had a gentle demeanor, and played beautifully, if a bit choppy as if he had been long out of practice.

The song he played resembled his person quite a bit. At times dark and mysterious, but also gentle and slightly rusty. I could only speculate as to who he was, where he came from, and how he ended up here. I sat and listened to his song, up until this point not saying a word.

I did not know what to do or say. I knew I was witnessing a great injustice, not only to this fair tempered man, but to God's House. Just then, an alter server placed something on the alter, turned around, and bowed to the cross. At that point, I got up and called the boy's attention. I told him he was supposed to bow to the alter. I explained how significant the alter is. After all, the cross is just a statue of Christ crucified, but at the alter is where, alive, he gave himself up, and at the alter where he is alive once more.

At that moment, I remembered table fellowship, and knew what I wanted to say to the homeless man. I sat down and continued to listen to his song, until the time came when the sheriff would soon be at the church. I got up and asked him if he had lunch yet, if he wanted to go eat with me. He only looked at me once, closed his eyes, smiled, and looked forward. I don't know if he smiled out of joy or disdain for me. I pleaded, saying I would rather take him out to eat, then to have the police force him out. This time, he didn't look at me.

As I ran out of things to say, I stepped back, looked outside, and the sheriff had just arrived. The man finished his song, got up, took his bags and walked out the door, greeting the sheriffs.

"On your way out?" they had asked.

"Yeap," he replied. He walked away quite quickly. I still wanted to eat with this man, to hear his story. I cut through the church to catch up to his quick pace. I asked him again if he'd eat with me, again he just looked at me once, smiled, and kept moving forward. In the heat of the moment, I was at a loss for words, not knowing what else to say. I walked with him to the edge of the church grounds, where he cut away and went down Beach Blvd.

A flood of emotion and things I wanted to tell him hit me. I knew how stupid it might seem for me to go after him, at least to a parent who would worry about my safety. I wanted to tell him, I'm not stupid, nor did I pity him. I just wanted to know him. As I started walking back to my car, defeated, I thought once again that it could not just end this way.

Getting in my car, I heard this song on the radio. It was Bettye Lavette singing The Who's Love Reign O'er Me live on NPR. I began to drive around looking for the man, thinking if he saw my persistence he might sit down with me. I couldn't find him. I had parked my car in a lot down in the direction he was walking to get out and look for him, to no avail.

I began to wonder why I wanted so bad to talk to him, and what I could possibly gain from the experience. I guess it came down to this:

Can I really make a difference in this world? How? Am I just a fool, flailing around before my own time is up?

I guess I'll have to find the answer some other way.... Anyhow, enjoy Bettye's beautiful rendition of the song, if you hadn't already began playing it: