What could make such a nice guy be so vehemently opposed to spending his eternity in paradise with our Heavenly Father? How could a man who lives such a good life, caring for his fellow companions, be so opposed to that happy place of sunshine?
I can only imagine that something in his experience turned him away from God because he was turned away from the church. And what else could turn a person away from the church than the very church-goers themselves who, because of their own weaknesses, do not act Christ-like? Surely, my friend must not have been met with love and acceptance and was perhaps met with contradiction and hypocrisy instead. Perhaps he was given rules with no love, rendering the entire thing meaningless to him. The probability of this being his experience is very high because it is many people’s experience, sadly.
What powerful impressions church-goers can make on others. It seems like that--by just going to church—one could inadvertently drive others away from or toward Christ. What a powerful position to be unknowingly in!
I am so very fragile, and it is only because of my littleness and weakness that God mercifully put me in a life circumstance where faith and prayer comes easily. This is because it was first shown to me by others with abundant gentleness.
But to a stronger, more powerful soul, I believe God can permit greater challenges of faith and reason because He knows that the soul has the strength to overcome it and, by this, will be sanctified to even greater holiness (and more greatly inspire others to the same).
It is this kind of potential that initially comes as a burden to the unbeliever. And oh, what a great and heavy burden it is at the beginning. But big souls like these CAN overcome that burden, even if they should be charged by Almighty God to carry that cross the majority of their lives.
Sometimes big souls like this don’t even realize their strength because they seem like ordinary people who perhaps may only mildly be interested in religion or perhaps not at all. I think my friend that I speak of here is one of these powerful souls because God has permitted him to have such difficulty with faith and religion in the first place.
This weekend God gave me the chance to experience first-hand some of what these powerful souls may experience that initially turns them away from the church. Oh, how wretchedly horrible it feels to experience the hypocrisy or contradiction of a church-goer! Indeed, I felt it so painfully this weekend that I began to cry and had to force myself to think about other things in order to not become a blubbering fool!
This situation seems quite ordinary and commonplace: I merely had inadvertently sat myself beside a very curmudgeonly middle-aged man in church. Essentially, he was a mean man. Believe it or not, his presence turned sour my entire church experience. It was incredibly powerful.Let me tell you about it chronologically.
I had arrived a few minutes late to Mass at a brand new parish I had never been at before. I was late because I rethought the strapless shirt I was wearing and decided to return to my car to throw on a t-shirt.
When I re-entered the church more properly clad, I decided to sit in this man’s pew simply because there was no one beside him except for the elderly couple that sat on the other end.
He had not seen me yet at this point; and, as I approached him, I genuflected toward the Tabernacle (as is customary for us Catholics), and this little practice gives the unsuspecting sitting person a chance to anticipate the person who is about to sit beside them.
So this I did, but as I smiled and gently whispered, “Would you mind if I sat beside you?” he glared at me with eyes that were nothing less than disgusted by my inconvenient presence. He did nothing, as if to hope that I might disappear entirely, and when I did not, he moved his legs ever-so-slightly to make my entrance into the pew nearly impossible, perhaps to make me regret my decision.
I left several feet between us, perceiving his body language to be put-off by my presence. But the kneelers in this church were long, and so we would have to share one, despite my distance from him. This I did not think about at the time but I soon came to realize it later.
When it came time for us to kneel, he dropped the pew’s kneeler so quickly that one of its wooden legs nearly pierced my toes. Fortunately, my foot whipped out in haste and was safe, but the unnatural quickness with which that kneeler came down could only mean that he had hoped to vindicate his initial annoyance of me.
I was shocked and tried very hard to convince myself that what I had just experienced was not intended by him.
He sang all the hymns at the top of his lungs and recited all the prayers with memorized furor. When the time for the Sign of Peace came, I extended my hand toward him in order to shake his. With apparent offense, he quickly lifted the arm that had been at his side and moved it away from my friendly approach. Then his hand shoo’d me away as if I was an annoying fly. Clearly, I got the message that--just because I sat next to him—this did not mean I got to share peace with him. I was of zero value and no consequence to him. He hated me but for no reason.
Inside myself, I began to sob uncontrollably, obviously because I am so sensitive; and, outside, my eyes froze looking forward, lest I look to the side and accidentally spill the tear drops which had collected over my eyes. Why did this man act as if he hated me when he didn’t even know me? How could he treat his sister in Christ like this?
As the time for the consecration approached, I remembered the verse from the Old Testament which tells us to make things right between one another before we come to the altar of God with a sacrifice. God is so kind to tell us to treat each other properly before we even come to treat Him! And so I prayed hard for the man beside me.
When it was time to get in line for Communion, I stood up at what seemed like an appropriate time, for the pew in front of us had just emptied. But the man on my left stayed put, making my exit from the pew impossible. And although it was probably only a few seconds that he remained sitting in order to prevent my exit, it seemed like an eternity and that the entire group of people waiting in the pews behind us was staring at me.
Then he popped up and quickly went off into the line, much like a car on the highway who purposely goes slow before you and then speeds up suddenly when you try to pass. His actions against me were seeming more and more calculated with every passing minute. I offered up my communion for him, asking God to heal him of whatever troubles in life were causing him to act this way with a complete stranger.
During the closing song where we all stood, I wondered what more he would try to do to me before I left the church. We both sang, and after the priest processed by us and the pews began to vacate, I noticed that he had chosen to keep singing the song until the bitter end. Since I could see that exiting at this time was impossible because he was still singing, I simply joined him and sang until the bitter end also.
When the song concluded and we both returned our books to the pocket on the back of the pew in front of us, the man just STOOD there – looking flatly in front of him. He would not at all move, nor take notice of my gentle leaning in his direction to leave the pew. He stood with the firm expression of an army soldier.
The elderly couple at the far other end of the pew were taking a while to exit, given their age and the things they brought with them. It would be silly to walk such a far distance to their end when I was so close to this one. And to walk all the way over there would merely put pressure on them to move out more quickly when it was obvious that they could not.
Our pew was now the only one that still had people in it. Had the man sat down or kneeled to continue praying, I might have done the same myself and simply waited until an appropriate time to exit out the side with the elderly couple.
But this he did not do. He would continue his cold posture of standing and choose not to see me at all in his periphery. He might have had to let me into that pew when others were watching, but now that others weren’t watching, he surely wasn’t going to let me out.
I stood there, again in disbelief, wondering why he could dislike me so much and want to make my life so difficult for him. Finally, I turned around in sadness, walked slowly to the opposite side of the pew, and slowly followed the elderly couple out the door.
I must sound crazy to you, dear reader, but I am sure that this man disliked me and did things purposely to show me it. I do not know what troubles he had in his life that allowed him to worship God so completely yet regard his sister in Christ so carelessly.
I was glad that this cruelty and neglect was ending, now that I could go home. But I then thought about the many little girls in this world who grow up with fathers or grandfathers or uncles who never love them or perhaps show hatred toward them. Those little girls must spend their whole lives searching for real love and the reasons for why these men never had it in their hearts.
And then I thought again about those who have left the church because of the overt or subtle carelessness of those whose exteriors paint them to be good church-goers.
To the church-goer, I beg him regard God’s children as preciously as one’s self, to take seriously the overt or subtle effects that being a Christian has on others, and to be consistent.
To the unbeliever, I beg him to shift up his eyes from the sinful ways of the church-goers to the loving God whom they attempt (and often fail) to serve. May you realize the strength of your mind, heart, and soul and discover that you are called to even more greatness than the simple one who never strays.
