Angels Unawares
During yesterday’s bike ride the Dude and I discussed why we lock bikes. We locked them at the coffee shop because we went inside, where we couldn’t see the bikes. We didn’t lock them at the park because we were the only ones there and our bikes were in plain sight. I amended my earlier statement to say that it would have been fine to leave our bikes unlocked at the coffee shop since it was a nice neighborhood.
“Yeah, not like around House of Hope. That’s a place where you’d want to lock your bike,” said the Dude.
It’s amazing what sticks in their heads. There had been a sign posted at church last winter/spring warning people to lock there cars, etc. and there had been concerns about people going into the church – non-members, uninvited people.
Then he asked, “Why do people go to churches and ask for money?” House of Hope – like many churches – has frequent visits by folks who ask the pastors for money. My understanding is that it’s a relatively common occurrence, with demand increasing or decreasing depending on the neighborhood.
I told him that many people think of churches as charitable places – places that want to help their “neighbors” – so they go to churches hoping or expecting help.
Then I told him a story about my father. When my father was a little boy in South Dakota, they often had “surprise” dinner guests at their house. My grandfather was a preacher and they lived in the parsonage. Back in the thirties, many men were riding the rails in pursuit of greater opportunities. When these guys hit town, they either knew where the parsonage was (having heard from fellow travelers) or asked a local which way to go. Either way they showed up at the back door (never the front apparently) asking for assistance. These guys were referred to romantically as “hoboes” but in reality they must have been a little spooky when they appeared at the back door.
The way my father told the story was that my grandfather would invite them in and ask them to have dinner with the family. This would drive my grandmother crazy. Those family members reading the blog can recall her general demeanor, thoughts about housekeeping and what was “right and proper” can well imagine how this sat with her. My grandfather insisted that they should serve these men in the house as they could be helping an “angel unawares”. [King James Version, Hebrews 13:2: “Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.”] My grandmother usually sent them to the back step to eat their dinner anyway, insisting that they weren’t really angels.
“Yeah, not like around House of Hope. That’s a place where you’d want to lock your bike,” said the Dude.
It’s amazing what sticks in their heads. There had been a sign posted at church last winter/spring warning people to lock there cars, etc. and there had been concerns about people going into the church – non-members, uninvited people.
Then he asked, “Why do people go to churches and ask for money?” House of Hope – like many churches – has frequent visits by folks who ask the pastors for money. My understanding is that it’s a relatively common occurrence, with demand increasing or decreasing depending on the neighborhood.
I told him that many people think of churches as charitable places – places that want to help their “neighbors” – so they go to churches hoping or expecting help.
Then I told him a story about my father. When my father was a little boy in South Dakota, they often had “surprise” dinner guests at their house. My grandfather was a preacher and they lived in the parsonage. Back in the thirties, many men were riding the rails in pursuit of greater opportunities. When these guys hit town, they either knew where the parsonage was (having heard from fellow travelers) or asked a local which way to go. Either way they showed up at the back door (never the front apparently) asking for assistance. These guys were referred to romantically as “hoboes” but in reality they must have been a little spooky when they appeared at the back door.
The way my father told the story was that my grandfather would invite them in and ask them to have dinner with the family. This would drive my grandmother crazy. Those family members reading the blog can recall her general demeanor, thoughts about housekeeping and what was “right and proper” can well imagine how this sat with her. My grandfather insisted that they should serve these men in the house as they could be helping an “angel unawares”. [King James Version, Hebrews 13:2: “Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.”] My grandmother usually sent them to the back step to eat their dinner anyway, insisting that they weren’t really angels.
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