Saturday, March 6, 2021

One Failed Nun

In my early teens I had dreams of becoming a nun and going to the Congo to work with Dr. Albert Schweitzer and saving lives.  Guess I was a hopeless romantic, and I was enamored of Mother Teresa.  I actually wanted to be her.  Only in Africa. 

"See the face of Jesus in everyone," she admonished.  

Well, I didn't become a nun, haven't been to Africa, and Schweitzer finished out his life without even knowing I ever existed.  And so I was left with the task of finding the face of Jesus in random people throughout the ensuing decades, with varying degrees of success.  

Ok, I could have tried harder. 

There surely have been more than a few times when I've been certain I have encountered angels on earth, and seen them touch the lives of others as well.  Then there have been those few tender times when I've been given the sweet honor and privilege to serve as the hands of the Divine..  And I have had abundant opportunities to gaze into the eyes of souls around the world, many, many aglow with love and goodwill, if not unmitigated joy.    

Yet seeing in some, the searing unspoken pleadings deep within, and in some, a glint of malevolence, in still others, only hollow emptiness.  For some I have surprised them with unasked for help, and from some I have received welcomed kindness.  From some I have turned away.  Not a spotless track record.  But I have never thought of them as sharing any literal DNA from the One who walked the shores of Galilee in the long ago, despite Mother T's injunction and Christ himself reassuring us that, "Even as ye have done it unto one of the least of these, my brethren, ye have done it unto me."

However, time is growing short for me to grasp that principle and more broadly apply it.  I do have faith though that the world has been set up by default to supply us endless second chances.  But I wasn't even looking for opportunities when I went for a walk on a beautiful morning this week.  Downtown San Diego, and it was perfect.  Absolutely perfect!  My eyes were drinking in the lush verdant landscape following a full day and evening of rain.  My favorite color is trees and favorite fragrance is after rain fresh, so it was mesmerizing as I meandered up and down some hills that housed now closed campuses, generously endowed with breathtaking landscape.  Heaven!  And so of course, there He was.  Jesus.  Where else would He be?  

I didn't recognize Him.  At all. 

But He immediately recognized me and made a beeline towards me.  Not knowing who He was, this sudden pursuit startled me, interrupting my intense bonding moment with nature, kicking in that fight or flight response.  Which made me pretty uncomfortable, so I instinctively started zigzagging across the grass, abandoning all paths, until hitting the city sidewalks.  While I sped up, hanging out on the streets there has evidently kept Him in better shape, so after half a dozen blocks, He caught up to me.  Small in stature, unkempt, with long gray hair and beard, He more reminded me of someone I intensely disliked, so it was pretty jarring, hard to recognize Him and make an immediate Jesus connection, even though He now was only inches away.  

It was impossible for me to understand what He was saying because of His whisper, so He repeated himself three times.  Thank goodness, Jesus assured me He actually didn't want a sexual tryst with me.  Temptation much?  I mean, that would be a sin after all, did He think I didn't know Christian basics?  And anyway, my husband would be upset if he found out I was capable of such shenanigans, when it's all I can do nowadays to keep up with the dishes.  I could hurt myself.  So what a relief!  However, He made it emphatically clear that He did want to smoke crystal meth with me.  Seeing as I have yet to even try coffee, I told Him no, had never tried that and never will.  You don't think He meant that as a commandment, do you? 

Maybe.  Anyway, I took off again and He kept chasing me.  I called my husband, who's not religious and didn't care who the heck it was, and he told me to duck into a restaurant or something.  So finally I ran into a little food market at a corner gas station and explained my predicament to the cashier.  He said they often call the cops on this guy and a couple others but they won't pick them up because putting the homeless in jail if they possibly have covid is an issue.  Idk.  Perhaps if the Police won't handle it, the Pharisees will.  Remains to be seen.  I hung out in between shelves for 15 minutes and then walked, shaking confidently, to the apartment building.  

Just as I was about to turn the corner to the entrance, lo and behold, I saw Him coming my way!  Was this like the Second Coming or what?  I mean, this year has been pretty Apocalyptic, right?  Anyway, it's beyond my pay grade to decide, so I jumped into the little coffee shop there on the corner and hid beyond a pillar so He couldn't see me from all those floor to ceiling windows.  He was angry and no longer whispering at all.  Maybe like when He got fed up with those money changers at the Temple back in the day?  He marched up and down the block a couple times, so I had to keep ducking and slithering back and forth around the pillar so as to stay hidden from every angle.  Finally it was quiet outside.  He was gone.  Then I realized the way I had been acting in the coffee shop made me look way more suspicious than He ever did, and I would likely be the one getting arrested.  Awkward, so I fled the scene.  

Well so much for nature walks and close encounters.

So just to be clear, I generally am not at all afraid of homeless people.  I go out of my way to interact (unless there's a group), give food or money or whatever I can whenever I can, because no one should have to suffer such an uphill battle just to survive when there's more than enough abundance around.  Obviously.  So I don't need to see the face of Jesus in everyone (though I really do love Christ more and more every day).  Their very own faces pierce my heart.  Usually.  

Still, not a good idea to chase me down.  Just a word of caution.  

So if you believe there is an afterlife and it has sufficient room for most of us, what do you think the chances are Mother Teresa will ever speak to me?  

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