“Six days shalt thou labour, and do all thy work: but the seventh day is the Sabbath of the Lord thy God: in it thou shalt not do any work, thou, nor thy son, nor thy daughter, thy manservant, nor thy maidservant, nor thy cattle, nor thy stranger that is within thy gates.” (Exodus 20:9-10, King James version)
He was with us every Sunday, seated in the same pew, sitting quietly; a middle-aged man wearing an unpressed brown suit and his brown fedora hat. The hat remained on his head throughout the service.
He worshipped with us in an old New England church which deviated from the ways of pilgrim ancestors reluctantly at best.
We, the high school choir, seated in the sanctuary chancel, had an excellent view of the congregation; we scarcely gave this man a glance. We were busy, either sneaking in Latin homework or staring at the back row of the sanctuary. From there, the pastor’s son (a handsome football player) made faces at us.
One Sunday the sermon started with a very stern command from the pulpit. We were enjoined not to look at a certain person. The pastor made this very clear. He was going to preach about a man who wore his hat during the service. “He does not speak nor understand English,” said Dr. Mills. “But you will notice he attends service regularly. He comes from a land and a church where one wears a hat in God’s presence. He comes to join with fellow Christians as we worship together. This man of great faith is a gift to us from across the world. We learn from him every time he is with us in our sanctuary. He can not speak our language; listen to his silence.”
I, a high school chorister, listen to silence?
That stranger from the Middle East, what was he telling me? I did not solve the puzzle that day!
I never spoke to our stranger. I never knew his name.
He was my teacher.
Prayer: God above me, The Son beside me, The Spirit within me, The Three all around me. Amen. (Celtic prayer)
Carol Held
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