The Real Deal

We've had a lot of threads discussing Christianity, I thought I'd contribute one. It's a personal story, but I think that it defines the difference between words and actions, whether it's a secular humanist or a Christian. (I apologize that it's so long, but it is after all, a story, albeit a true one).

Small towns always have their characters and the one I lived in wasn’t any different. He was probably in his fifties at the time, but to us, it looked like he’d lived a century. He traveled around town on an old beat up 10 speed bicycle. Every where he went, he wore his wool Canadian Army jacket and a combat helmet. He had long hair and a beard (not the sort of ‘do’ considered acceptable back in the early 1960’s). His one other distinguishing feature, is that he carried a big leather bible everywhere that he went. In the summer, he could always be found sitting on a bench somewhere reading that bible. In the winter, he could be found sitting every day reading book after book in the library.

During the winter, he lived underneath the library building. The town I lived in didn’t have a homeless shelter and no one had ever spoken with him enough to even know his real name, let alone whether or not he had family he could bunk with when the snow started. I asked my father about him once and he said that “the poor old boy just had one too many bombs go off around him in Normandy, I think”.

My father should know, he served in both Korea and Vietnam. He also, had witnessed one too many bombs go off around him. Had seen one too many of his buddies returned home in a body bag. For my father, sometimes this pain soothed it’s self with the application of a month long Jack Daniels salve. Every Christmas and every Easter and sometimes in between we could always count on him losing his job and through one bar fight or another, ultimately winding up on the “honor farm”, working off some jail time.

It was one such day, right before Easter that I had an opportunity to meet our town character. When things got a little extreme at home (meaning Dad was drowning out the sound of gun fire with JD and Mom was either fighting mad or physically ill and depressed), I used to take my brothers and head out for the public library. We had no where else to go really.

The two local churches and their members considered my family a pariah. Even in Canada, a mixed race marriage was looked down on, as were the progeny of the couple. As far as the local minister was concerned, my Father was just another drunken Indian and my Mother was a crazy Francophone fallen from the Catholic Church. The one thing my mother asked of the church, which was to baptize her children, was refused because they did not consider her marriage a valid one and consequently, her children were “bastards” that could not be sanctified in Gods name. Though they did accept my Grandmothers money and allow me to attend the local Catholic girls school, who can ever understand the real power of money.

So on this day, right before Easter, I parked my brothers in the story telling section of the library and I found a quiet corner and settled down to read The Dangling Man, by Saul Bellows. I’d read about a chapter into the book before I looked up and saw him staring at me. I smiled – one Christmas when my father was not drinking, he boxed up blankets, pillows, towels and a radio and we took it over to his spot under the library and left it as had many others in town. We would not have dreamed of treating this man with disrespect just because he was homeless.

I learned that his name was Allen and that he’d read the book that I was reading and had in fact, lived the book in a manner of speaking. He was a kind and fascinating gentleman and even though he had a bible in front of him and appeared to have been reading it, he never once mentioned it to me, never tried to save my soul, he merely listened and shared stories.

There were days when I’d come to the library hoping to see Allen and when I‘d find him, I’d conclude that – on this day – he was not Allen but someone else altogether. A disconnected war damaged personality. Eventually though, Allen would return and our conversations would resume.

Right around Christmas that year, my father went on what one would call a real bender and wound up in a mental hospital around 200 miles away. My Mom (a diabetic) was too ill to work at the time and suffice it to say that life was a struggle. We really were wondering what we would do when the last of the deer meat in the freezer was gone.

One of my brothers needed a new coat and shoes (they grow quickly when they hit four). I still shake my head when I think of the day that I spent three hours shoveling snow out of the driveway of one of the towns more prominent citizens (church deaconess) and instead of paying me, she gave me a bag of soap and a bag of clothes for someone about 1/3 my size and gave me a lecture about the perils of dirty children which was, in reality, intended for my Mother.

About a week after this incident, I came home and found two frozen chickens and a bag of noodles on our door stoop. No note, just a box with the food. Two weeks later, I found three pair of fur lined snow boots (a pair for each of us) and two jackets for my brothers, again no note. At this point my Mother became concerned and started asking around, thinking that perhaps the church had left the items (she had intended to return them if this was the case). But they hadn’t.

Various items continued to mysteriously appear until one day, I decided to leave school early. I hid out near the house and waited for our benefactor. When Allen rode by on his bicycle, I was surprised. He was the last person who I would have guessed. He afterall, was homeless himself. Yet there he was, quietly setting a box down on our door step and riding silently off in the newly fallen snow on his 10 speed.

I never told anyone and we never mentioned it to one another in the course of our continuing conversations. My family managed to make it through that winter and life continued on, I saw Allen less and less as I got older. Eventually we moved away.

Later, I learned that Allen had died and to the town’s great surprise, he had his funeral expenses covered and in fact, he had a fairly sizeable bank account which he donated to the public library and to sustain the local AA Chapter, he also asked to be buried with his bible.

I subsequently found out that Allen had left many mysterious gifts for more than one ostracized family in need throughout the years. Though he never, so far as I know, attended a single church service and he never said a word to me about God or Jesus, and never purported to be a “Christian”, I suspect that of all those that I have ever known who have said they were Christian, Allen was probably the real deal.

.

OMG Rose, you know how embarrassing it is to bawl openly at work?!

This was just an incredible, amazing and beautiful story, Rose. It again affirms my innate sense that you are one of the most amazing persons in the SL community. Your friend, Allen, is the true embodiment of Christianity. That's a portrait of Christianity I would hope many more in the church (myself included) could somehow aspire to.

Thank you, Rose. This story really made my day.

thanks for telling it. and from a secular humanist... that's a true embodiment of humanism. wonderful.

Thank you for that Rose.

Talk about a diamond in the rough!
The world could use a few more Allens.


Thanks for sharing.

Wow! All I can say is wow!

Would be too hard to type anything else right now.

Thank you Rose.

How sad that God doesn't actually exist.

~Ulrika~

Run far away.

That was a beautiful story Rose. Thank you for sharing it

Masturbation is an art not a science.

ulrika...im amazed that you would even post like that how rude! one of the things ive learned is that everyone should have the freedom to believe whatever it is they choose...why come in rose's thread and just make a comment like that? rose was sharing a story of a man who was a genuine loving creature and ...wow im shocked at how you responded....if you dont believe in god, then dont post its as simple as that! regardless of your beliefs it was a story of an amazing man...one we should all strive to be more like and not judgemental! now THAT is a true christian...one who lives and shows great love by example not by forcing it down peoples throats like my parents...great story rose....btw paolo...did you know i consider you right up there with that man in my book? hugs you

Rose that is a wonderful and touching story and me and paulo, you can tell we are related, cos i'm sitting here with a damn tissue!!!

Thanks for sharing hun, it really makes you think

*hugs*

BWAH!!!! That wuz such a cool story, Rose! You're so lucky to have met someone like that in your life!

The problem I've always had with stories such as this, is that they're told in a rhetorical style which presents a person as a perfect caricature of an "ideal Christian". Like most religious mythology the story contains a revelation of covert charity after the passing of the main character.

What's really insidious about such stories is that because they describe a painful situation, they're very difficult to analyze rationally or disagree with. Anyone who questions the message or accuracy of the story is collectively shamed by those who have bought into the saccharine mythology. Fortunately, I'm me and not subject to such pressures.

What I recommend is looking at this story from a secular perspective. Remove any element of religion and you'll see a sad story of mental illness, poverty, and suffering. Hardly something worth getting together and giving each other a group hug over. Further, seeing people turn the story of someone's personal tragedy into a vehicle for the propagation of their religion, especially in the light that God does not actually exist -- well, that to me is the saddest part of all.

~Ulrika~

i dont think that she was trying to turn tragedy into a propoganda for her religion, specially since he was the one always carrying a bible around, and showing true love...and i actually feel bad for you since where others see love and hope, you see nothing but the negative...maybe if you instead were to look for the good in a situation instead of all the things wrong maybe you could have more light and positive effect in your own life...lets take a look at myself even...i have been through two rapes, a child molesting grandfather, people dying, dealing with bipolar, a miscarriage and now losing my son...and sure it can get me down at times, but i do my best to rise above it and show love for others despite feeling like crap sometimes..that is when i truly feel that the world is an ok place, when we can take our own tragedies and turn them into something positive..even if its just an ear for someone

What story were you reading, Ulrika? Are you saying that to give freely to those who are in need is a sign of mental illness? You would rather Tsk Tsk over a homeless person than celebrate a human being showing kindness?

Just my opinion, but I really think you are subject to your own pressure to promote Atheism. Most belief systems...Christianity, Buddism, Islam, Judaism, Wiccan, etc...believe that what this man did was good, and is an example of an ideal we should strive for. Are you saying that Atheists can look at such an act, and only say, "What a sad waste of time?" If that's so, than it moves me even further away from the belief that there's no God.

Ulrika - it is a true story. Perhaps you know or maybe you don't, I am not a Christian and am in fact an agnostic. I'm not entirely sure that Allen considered himself a Christian, he never spoke of it, never mentioned the bible even though he had it with him all the time.

If he was though, his actions spoke much truer toward espoused values to me than the lecture I got from the church deaconess or the dicipline applied by the nuns at the school I went to.

All the rhetoric about abortion, activist judges and gay marriage looks a lot more like politics to me than religion. You can make a 1000 laws against something but that does not mean people will stop doing it. Afterall, murder is against the law (has been for centuries) but that hasn't stopped people has it?

What does stop people - more than a fear of penalty, is a respect for life. Laws, politics and rhetoric will never give someone that. Showing someone an example of real decency, and giving someone the ability to respect themselves might though.

Lately, it just seems like it's a lot more important for people to be "right" than it is for them to be "good". I find that disturbing.

.

Amazing and touching story Rose. I've always been in awe of deeds such as those you described. To me, the essence of being a truly good person, a hero, is doing a good deed for no other reason than it should be done, that it will help someone.

I once saw a news story where, in the height of winter, a bus full of people crashed off the side of a bridge, into a icy, fast flowing river.

Several people, I think 12-16, managed to make it to a small, ice covered rocky outcropping in the middle of the current, and clung there in desperation.

The police and firemen arrived, and they called in a helicopter to lift the people out, but the survivors were exhausted and clung to the slick rocks in desperation.

Suddenly, a stranger standing on the bank plunged into the river and somehow swam out to this desperate group of people.

He proceeded to help each person into the lowered harness, so they could be lifted to safety. One at a time, he supported them, and guided the harness to them, releasing the rocks and plunging into the freezing water time and time again. Eventually, he got the last person into the harness and the helicopter lifted off. As the last survivor was on his way to safety, the stranger, with no struggle, exhausted and suffering from hypothermia, slipped into the current and was gone..washed away.

Later the police found out his identity by finding his car parked up on the road. He was just some business man passing through, on his way to an appointment.

There are many stories of actions, both large and small, that show people acting in ways that I would hope myself, and everyone else, would choose to act at all times. Strangers that do kind deeds, or perform amazing rescues, only to dissapear into the crowds, unidentified and unglorified. Just all-too-human guardian angels, acting with selflessness and courage.

Rose, that was a very moving story. I'm also agnostic after being raised Catholic - and Allen's example is what I've always believed to be the true message of Christianity...at least before people and politics took it over, just like they do almost every organized religion.

As an aside, my grandparents on my father's side were also a mixed relationship, Indian and French Catholic, and also lived in Canada - I think you and my father could relate on a lot of levels.

Thanks again for sharing.

-Az

The bottom line, oh wise one above all others, is that your post was inappropriate and disrespectful. You have no more right to foist your beliefs on the masses than do the Christians or religionists that you so despise.