“I tell you the truth,
whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for
me.” (Matt. 25:40,
NIV)
Today I want to tell you about Michael.
Michael first attended a service at our church this past
summer. He faithfully continued coming every Sunday after for our combined
9:30am service, and transitioned to the 10:30am service when we went back to
our 8 and 10am services after Labor Day. Shortly after that, he began attending
the 9:15am bible study before church. Michael certainly is not one to miss many
of our potluck gatherings, or events at the church which involve food.
In the seven months he has attended our church, I’m not sure
if Michael has missed a service. I’ve missed a few due to being out of town, so
I can’t say with certainty that he hasn’t missed at all, but I do know that
when I am there, he is there. He may have been late a couple of times, but he
still showed up for his Jesus time.
I do not know what Michael’s official diagnosis is. Some in
our church speculate that it is a form of schizophrenia, which is entirely
possible. He carries some mannerisms many of us associate with autism. I would
guess Michael’s age to be somewhere between 25 and 35. Depending on how well
his meds are working, he might be able to communicate something that resembles
a coherent thought. As we’ve gotten to know Michael, some of us are able to
understand what he’s trying to say – if we pay close enough attention.
When Michael started coming to our church we had to make
some personal adjustments. His imaginary friend often misbehaves during the
service and Michael will argue with him and tell him to be quiet. This was a
shock to our systems, to our traditional hearts that are not used to such
interruption to the readings or the sermon. Some parishioners took longer to
adjust than others, with scolding glances thrown in Michael’s direction (which
of course had little to no effect). Michael occasionally gets up out of his pew
and delivers notes to our priest while he gives the sermon at the podium.
It took some time to adjust, but gradually Michael became a
beloved and necessary part of our family. In spite of his apparent mental impairments,
Michael has enough comprehension to follow our service schedule when we have
special services; as I mentioned above he comes to nearly every potluck dinner;
he attends Sunday school where one lady always gets his coffee while he finds a
donut; and he even attended confirmation classes with the youth group. He knows
what it means to pray, and I’ve never been so moved watching someone receive
communion as when Michael does. There is no question in my mind that he knows
the meaning of Grace, even if he never could tell us so.
Of all the people in my church, perhaps none embraced
Michael so immediately and lovingly as our priest. Rev. Jim didn’t bat an eye
or falter in his sermon when Michael showed up and argued with the unseen
troublemaker in his pew. The first time Michael came up the aisle during the
sermon to deliver a bulletin with simple and incoherent words scrawled across
it, Rev. Jim broke his message only to accept the note, smile and say, “Thank
you Michael,” and pick right back up where he was. He was sure to welcome
Michael after church, and has invested time in learning more about him through
community contacts in an effort to better understand his situation.
To say that there were no dissenters would be a lie. There
were a very few who didn’t like Michael’s repeated attendance and disruption of
the service. For the most part, though, my beautiful church family welcomed him
and loved him just as they welcome and love all who come through our doors,
just as they welcomed and loved me when I came through the doors. And as we got
to know Michael and he got to know us, we found a balance. His outbursts are fewer
and farther between and he lets us get a little closer to him to at the
exchange of peace, though still isn’t always all about the touch of a
handshake. He recently celebrated his birthday, for which one of our members
brought a cake to coffee hour and a couple of small gifts such as gloves to
keep his hands warm this winter.
In the last few months, as South Carolina Episcopalians were
thrown into a battle of church politics and religion, I’ve lost count of the
number of times that, in my church family, the conversation has quickly turned
to a story about Michael. Because Michael’s membership at our church and the
way our parish family embraces him as one of our own exemplifies the Christian
message. It reminds us in an obvious and tangible way who we are and why we
follow Christ. We have grown together, Michael learning from us and, most
importantly, us learning from Michael.
Could it be any coincidence he showed up shortly before the
diocesan upheaval began?
My personal belief is that there is no such thing as
coincidence. I find strength in the bond of my spiritual family, our open arms
and our desire to follow Christ and share the good news. I find great hope
while watching our leader grow from some apparent disenchantment into a greater
shepherd of his flock, desiring to protect us and keep us in the light. Perhaps
Michael taught him a few things, too.
Today I pray that those who are seeking will be met with the
grace and love that Michael found. May God lead them with open minds toward
open doors and open hearts.
Amen! :D
