I went to Catholic school for high school and somehow after having to regularly attend mass and taking religion class every semester, I was very anti-religion for about 10-12 years after that. It's really no mystery why that is and it's not quite what you might think either. I didn't get overdosed on religion. I didn't feel as though much of the dictating that the Catholic church does was too overwhelming, or socially outdated, or too stifling for the way that I wanted to conduct my life. I just ultimately got turned off by the hypocrisy of the people associated with the religion. I just saw too many things that weren't God-like to me and I couldn't resolve that in my mind at the time.
The Jesuits that were running my school were supposed to have a vow to poverty and yet I saw them driving Mercedes-Benz and wearing expensive Italian suits. That didn't really bother me, although it took a chink out of that armor of integrity that you expect them to have. They took a vow of celibacy, but some of them got caught up in some scandals with little boys. That part didn't really bother me though, although it was absolutely deplorable. The part that got me was the complete disregard for the "man for others" concept that was drilled into us during every one of those religion classes and masses.
Okay, perhaps "complete disregard" is a bit strong. I will say this though. Some of our community service activity and charitable contributions were a little sanitized. I wouldn't exactly call us disciples of Mother Teresa.
"the hungry, the naked, the homeless, the crippled, the blind, the lepers, all those people who feel unwanted, unloved, uncared for throughout society, people that have become a burden to the society and are shunned by everyone."-- Mother Teresa
I guess I got tired of seeing the really downtrodden, the really shunned, the outcasts being turned away. As far as I was concerned, these were the ones we should absolutely be welcoming. These were opportunities to set the example for the rest of society, but I think we missed some of these.
So, back to my deja vu. At church today I had the exact same feeling twice within a 20 minute period. In the first scenario, one of our deacons turned away a man at the door and even gestured that he should see his way off the grounds. I was not within earshot of what was being said, but as soon as I could momentarily leave my post as an usher handing out bulletins at the entrance to the sanctuary, I sought out that deacon and asked what that situation was all about.
"Oh, I don't know what he wanted, I don't speak Spanish."
I told him that I do and would've been happy to see what the guy wanted. I withheld a few other choice words that I had for him and then chastised myself for not reacting quicker and lending assistance. If I had been there a little sooner, maybe I could've caught up with the guy up the street or something and invited him back. When I walked out of the gate to look for him, he was nowhere to be found. About 20 minutes later, the sermon had begun and one of the members walked over to tell me that I ought to "take care of this situation and maybe get a couple of deacons to assist". It took me about a full minute to figure out what he was saying to me, partly due to his accent and the fact that I perceived no threat.
He was referring to an oddly dressed gentleman with the most interesting of hairstyles (his afro actually looked like a mushroom cloud). For as strange as he may have looked though, I didn't see that he was disturbing anybody, and I was sitting directly behind him. It's always interesting to hear everyone's viewpoint as three or four different people made comments to me about this cat's menacing stares, his stoicism, and his wandering around outside the church before finally deciding to come in. What is he supposed to be like? Is he supposed to have a Joker smile like Jack Nicholson and be in a great mood. This man may have had some heavy stuff on his mind and perhaps was trying to sort it all out. Maybe he was pacing outside trying to figure out if this church could solve what was troubling him on this Sunday morning. Maybe he was even talking to Jesus and finally was convinced to come in and sit down, and I said as much to the person that brought this up. I was growing steadily disappointed in my fellow Christians who were seemingly very quick to deny this man a place in the Lord's house, which, last I checked, was not governed by mere mortals. It's amazing how we're so quick to write somebody off for looking a little different from the rest of us.
Brotha man sat in that pew well after the service was over so something was clearly up with him. Hopefully, Jesus kept him there after the sermon to give him some additional individual attention. I was pleased to see that some of the elder sistas had engaged him in a conversation after awhile, when I walked back by after making my rounds. I hope that he and the other gentleman won't be too discouraged to come back and seek the Lord with us again some time.
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