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Several years ago, I think I met a prophet. I had just started work at a comic shop and didn't yet have a key to the store. While I sat on a nearby bench and waited for the manager to come and open the shop, a black man approached me and asked if he could share the bench. "Sure," I answered, and moved over to give him some room.
A breeze blew toward me, and that's when I realized this wasn't a black man at all, but a man who may never have bathed in his life. The stench was abrasive, to say the least, and became much worse when the man reached down and pulled off his shoes and began massaging his grimy feet just a few inches upwind of me.
I inched my way down to the far end of the bench, and the dirty man reached into his satchel and pulled out a Bible. He began mumbling to himself, and I couldn't hear most of what he said. However, as he thumbed his greasy Bible, I did catch two evocative phrases:
1. In order to understand the sacred, you must first experience the profane.
2. Jesus is a cup of coffee.
The manager opened up the shop before I heard or smelled anything more, and I never saw the man again.
A breeze blew toward me, and that's when I realized this wasn't a black man at all, but a man who may never have bathed in his life. The stench was abrasive, to say the least, and became much worse when the man reached down and pulled off his shoes and began massaging his grimy feet just a few inches upwind of me.
I inched my way down to the far end of the bench, and the dirty man reached into his satchel and pulled out a Bible. He began mumbling to himself, and I couldn't hear most of what he said. However, as he thumbed his greasy Bible, I did catch two evocative phrases:
1. In order to understand the sacred, you must first experience the profane.
2. Jesus is a cup of coffee.
The manager opened up the shop before I heard or smelled anything more, and I never saw the man again.
