I saw a guy walking his dog. There is nothing unusual, much less stunning, in that sentence. People walk dogs all the time. But the story is about more than a guy walking a dog. It is a story about human encounter. For me it is a spiritual story. It is a story I want to tell, because I don’t want to forget it.
In these trying times, I have been getting regular exercise. But that’s not unusual; I have been doing this all my life. It is deeply ingrained in my way of living, that I figure only a serious illness will finally spell the end of this part of my life. So far, I have been fortunate. For a long time, I could claim to be an athlete. I am not sure that applies anymore. The occasional golf game does not really make me an athlete. I am both very grateful for so many years ardently engaged in all kinds of sports and I am a little wistful for those days and sorry they are over.
In these trying times, I typically head out for a walk about the same time of the day---late afternoon. No doubt, this can be traced all the way back to school days when the sports would take place after classes had concluded. Those were always the best couple hours of the day. Watching college athletes practice at basically the same time is still a favorite way for me to spend a few minutes. One thing I am doing differently these days is trying to explore some new avenues for my walk. I figure I ought to double up exploration and exercise.
It has been fun. I have walked some streets I never saw. I passed a church recently which I did not know existed. It is easy to get a sense of the socio-economic level of a neighborhood. Interestingly, inner cities---often older---have more access to sidewalks than the fancier suburbs. You can tell these suburbanites have a much higher commitment to and reliance on the car. There is more distance between the houses. In the suburbs the yards are bigger---everything tends to be on a bigger scale.
And so it was on my latest afternoon walk. I looked ahead and saw on the other side of the street this guy coming toward me with his dog on a leash. He was ambling along; he may be into exercise, but it was a different level than mine. It was as if he were out as much to enjoy the beauty of the day and his dog than he was intent on racking up three miles or ten thousand steps. I still have things to learn from other folks---perhaps he could be my mentor.
As he approached, I heard his turn to me and say, “How are you, sir?” I hope I smiled when I replied something like, “I’m fine.” I am not sure why I paid particular attention to his words. The could have been nothing more than the typical pleasantries people exchange to indicate friend and not foe. But I wanted to read more into it. These are trying times, after all.
I hope he was genuinely interested in how I am. Since I am older than a teenager, I am apparently more vulnerable to virus, flu and assorted other threats to humans. I would like to think he was, in effect, wishing me well. And the “sir” part is what made me think this way. He could have said something like, “Hi, how are you?” that would be normal and more likely an exchange of a pleasantry. But “sir,” What did he mean?
Maybe he was from the South and this is a little more likely there. I have lived in the South and that was not a southern accent. Sir can be a sign of respect. I know in Greek “sir” is one way to translate the same word as “Lord” translates. Sometimes, Jesus might be call “Sir” in the sense of “Lord.” It is like the use in the medieval period. The peasant would call the landowner “sir.”
I don’t think he meant “Lord.” I do think he was being respectful and I appreciate that. Too many people in the world show little or no respect. I am glad I saw him and was greeted. But it was the next piece that probably made me latch on to the experience and turn it into this little story.
He added to the greeting, “God bless you.” I was touched. Stranger to stranger exchanging a blessing as we passed like ships in the night. Obviously, I have no clue what he intended or what meaning, if any, he wanted to convey. I don’t know anything about his theology…but I don’t care. He gave me a gift and once a gift is given, the receiver can determine the value of the gift.
It was a spiritual event for me. He had become the street priest. He incarnated the Divine Voice and proclaimed God’s blessing on me. He transformed that moment and those ten passing steps into a sacred encounter and sacramental experience. It is special to be blessed in this world, which is so full of damning. Road rage, hoarding, Wall St. insider trading---so many places where we see and hear damning. In our covenant with God and each other, those two options always exist: blessing or curse.
The man offered me a gift. In real time it happened quickly---maybe twenty or thirty seconds. But I appreciated it. I remember it and have turned it into a story. For me it is gospel---good news. And it was nothing more than a guy walking his dog.
In these trying times, I have been getting regular exercise. But that’s not unusual; I have been doing this all my life. It is deeply ingrained in my way of living, that I figure only a serious illness will finally spell the end of this part of my life. So far, I have been fortunate. For a long time, I could claim to be an athlete. I am not sure that applies anymore. The occasional golf game does not really make me an athlete. I am both very grateful for so many years ardently engaged in all kinds of sports and I am a little wistful for those days and sorry they are over.
In these trying times, I typically head out for a walk about the same time of the day---late afternoon. No doubt, this can be traced all the way back to school days when the sports would take place after classes had concluded. Those were always the best couple hours of the day. Watching college athletes practice at basically the same time is still a favorite way for me to spend a few minutes. One thing I am doing differently these days is trying to explore some new avenues for my walk. I figure I ought to double up exploration and exercise.
It has been fun. I have walked some streets I never saw. I passed a church recently which I did not know existed. It is easy to get a sense of the socio-economic level of a neighborhood. Interestingly, inner cities---often older---have more access to sidewalks than the fancier suburbs. You can tell these suburbanites have a much higher commitment to and reliance on the car. There is more distance between the houses. In the suburbs the yards are bigger---everything tends to be on a bigger scale.
And so it was on my latest afternoon walk. I looked ahead and saw on the other side of the street this guy coming toward me with his dog on a leash. He was ambling along; he may be into exercise, but it was a different level than mine. It was as if he were out as much to enjoy the beauty of the day and his dog than he was intent on racking up three miles or ten thousand steps. I still have things to learn from other folks---perhaps he could be my mentor.
As he approached, I heard his turn to me and say, “How are you, sir?” I hope I smiled when I replied something like, “I’m fine.” I am not sure why I paid particular attention to his words. The could have been nothing more than the typical pleasantries people exchange to indicate friend and not foe. But I wanted to read more into it. These are trying times, after all.
I hope he was genuinely interested in how I am. Since I am older than a teenager, I am apparently more vulnerable to virus, flu and assorted other threats to humans. I would like to think he was, in effect, wishing me well. And the “sir” part is what made me think this way. He could have said something like, “Hi, how are you?” that would be normal and more likely an exchange of a pleasantry. But “sir,” What did he mean?
Maybe he was from the South and this is a little more likely there. I have lived in the South and that was not a southern accent. Sir can be a sign of respect. I know in Greek “sir” is one way to translate the same word as “Lord” translates. Sometimes, Jesus might be call “Sir” in the sense of “Lord.” It is like the use in the medieval period. The peasant would call the landowner “sir.”
I don’t think he meant “Lord.” I do think he was being respectful and I appreciate that. Too many people in the world show little or no respect. I am glad I saw him and was greeted. But it was the next piece that probably made me latch on to the experience and turn it into this little story.
He added to the greeting, “God bless you.” I was touched. Stranger to stranger exchanging a blessing as we passed like ships in the night. Obviously, I have no clue what he intended or what meaning, if any, he wanted to convey. I don’t know anything about his theology…but I don’t care. He gave me a gift and once a gift is given, the receiver can determine the value of the gift.
It was a spiritual event for me. He had become the street priest. He incarnated the Divine Voice and proclaimed God’s blessing on me. He transformed that moment and those ten passing steps into a sacred encounter and sacramental experience. It is special to be blessed in this world, which is so full of damning. Road rage, hoarding, Wall St. insider trading---so many places where we see and hear damning. In our covenant with God and each other, those two options always exist: blessing or curse.
The man offered me a gift. In real time it happened quickly---maybe twenty or thirty seconds. But I appreciated it. I remember it and have turned it into a story. For me it is gospel---good news. And it was nothing more than a guy walking his dog.
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