"A Voice In The Wilderness"
Every pastor has someone who stops by regularly for a few dollars, a little conversation and prayer. Pastor Shulz has a young man who jumps jobs from one fast food place to another, leaving with him a little of his earnings, then coming back when he needs a little. He always seems to need a little more than he left. Another is a fellow who makes the rounds about twice a year, wanting money for medicine for his children - but the only medicine he gets is from a different kind of bottle.
Walking the streets from the church to the green in the center of town, there is often an odd character dressed in a green parka with worn fake fur trim who meets him. His name is Robert. Robert wears a parka summer and winter. He talks to no one but mutters at everyone. Unclean. Strange. Robert is as much a fixture in the town as the town hall or the Victorian building housing, "The Men's Club."
Robert is known by everyone. He is probably better-known than the mayor.
Robert is the "dean," the "chairman" of the street people in that community. He certainly has had his few minutes of fame. The library tried once to ban him from the building because of his odor and odd habit of staring at library patrons. Robert's rights to smell and to stare were duly upheld by the courts in the 1980's. He refused to eat in the soup kitchen or sleep in the shelter. He would eat what he could scavenge and he slept in a cranny near the train station.
One cold clear morning, as Pastor Shulz made his way down the path from the rectory to the parish hall, Robert called out from the steps of the library: "Hey! Reverend, I need to talk to you! Hey, Reverend!"
It was bitter cold and the street was covered with ice and packed snow. Robert slowly maneuvered his way to the church driveway. The pastor stood shivering as he watched the strange figure in the bright sun, make his way across the street. "Reverend, it's too cold at night. You'll have to keep the church open at night and turn up the heat." Always the gentleman, Pastor Shulz pulled his scarf over his face to keep out the cold - and the smell.
"Robert, you know the church is open from nine in the morning until five o'clock. Everyone is welcome." Ignoring the words being spoken, Robert continued, "It's too cold. Some folk won't go the shelter and there's not room for everyone. Now, you keep the church open and it'll give people a safe place to go. It's what you're supposed to do, isn't it?" Robert didn't wait for an answer. He had finished giving his orders for the day and turned to take his place at the library.
That morning at the parish staff meeting the bitter cold was discussed and the need for a safe place for the homeless to gather. Calls were made to the shelter. The soup kitchen's director was invited to join the conversation. That night the doors were left open to the church and the heat was turned up. Volunteers served coffee. Robert was no where to be seen.
Robert took a liking to Pastor Shulz. Pastor Shulz liked to take walks around town, was on the board of the Soup Kitchen, and got the church to open a Food Pantry. He wasn't afraid to be around the street folk. Robert decided that the pastor was all right. He cornered him at the bank ATM machine near the town green last week. As Robert did with the folk he liked, he got right up into Pastor Shulz's face. "Hey, Reverend! You doing O.K. today? You know, I need to talk to you about someone." "Well, that's fine Robert." Pastor Shulz moved up-wind as he responded. Robert continued, "You know Shirley? Well Shirley wants to go to your church. You need to invite her." The pastor thought for a moment and slowly asked, "You mean she wants to attend a service." "Yeah, she wants to go to church. She thinks you and the guys in the soup kitchen are real nice. So, you invite her to church."
Shifting in the sun, Pastor Shulz decided to pull Robert's chain a little. He asked, "Well, Robert, why don't you bring her to church on Sunday. There are services at eight and eleven." Robert stared at the pastor indignantly and replied, "Reverend, I'm Jewish. Shirley is one of yours and if she's good enough for you to feed, she's good enough for you to have in church, isn't she?" "Well, … yes," Pastor Shulz said.
Robert turned and walked back down the street toward the library. Pastor Shulz watched the man in the green parka turn into the doorway of the library. The money from the bank machine was still caught in the metal jaws, waiting to be collected.
Shirley walked into church with Mrs. Humphries this Sunday morning. The colorful scarves and flowers in her short-cropped Afro highlighted Shirley's dark brown skin. A thin woman in her late forties, she had fought the demons of mental illness for years. She was educated and articulate. Except for the extra skirts and the paper bags filled with her worldly possessions, she seemed as natural a part of the community as her blue-haired patrician guide. They took seats next to Mr. Humphries. She nodded to Pastor Shulz and the choir as they processed into the sanctuary. She had found a place. Robert was at his usual place in front of the closed library.
The voice of one crying in the wilderness - or in the desert - or on the street corner - or in the seat next to us: "Repent for the kingdom of heaven is at hand." The voice of one who points to this kingdom. What is it like, this kingdom? This is a place where there is room for everyone. Room for almost everyone - although the smug, self-confident - most often those religious folk who think they control the doors to the kingdom - or at least those of the church - those with all the answers, the "brood of vipers," might find it hard to find a place. In God's amazing logic, the ones on the outside get in, and the ones on the inside are left blinking at the sun, and huddled against the cold. Yet even the "vipers" hear the voice of warning and of new possibilities that they reject out of hand.