The Prophet

I was at the bus stop in Broomfield a couple days ago with four large grocery bags filled with supplies for Thai Tuesday night at chaos. At the shelter, there was a shortish black man with graying hair and a little cart. The cart was expertly packed, but it was impossible for me to discern its contents or function. It reminded me of the kind of thing one would make over time for a specific function, like a custom-built noodle bike cart in Vietnam that has been expertly re-crafted over years of experience, made from discarded remains of society.

At first, I thought he might have been homeless, but I detected a sense of awareness in him that most people who don’t live anywhere are usually lacking.

Being in a curious mood, I asked him what is rig was for and he replied that it was a window washing set. He further explained that he is a professional window washer- however, the washing was only to support his ministry. “yes sir, I am the Prophet Elijah,” he said in a manner so lacking of overstatement that I could do nothing but accepted his assertion, “and I am pleased to meet you- I don’t believe there are accidents or coincidences when you meet someone. Do you consider yourself a Christian?”

I told him no.

We had a brief discussion in which I revealed that I was spiritual but not dogmatic or religious and I did follow some of the eastern traditions of Hinduism and Buddhism.

He extended his hand to me and I took it. With excitement in his eyes and voice, he exclaimed,

on behalf of our good lord Jesus Christ, I claim you for him and welcome you into his eternal kingdom!

Thanks, I said.

“Let me tell you how much Jesus cares about you. Now, I don’t know how many hairs I have on my head,” gesturing to the graying curls beneath his baseball cap. “But Jesus, he knows how many hairs are on my head- and yours too.”

He looked at me with a smile, as if he was about to really drive a point home. Sure enough, “well, imagine for a minute that if he knows that about you, what else he knows about you.” I did imagine Jesus thinking about counting my hair, but for me, the effect seemed more like he was a cosmic voyeur looking through my sock drawer. “He knows a lot of things about us that we don’t even know about ourselves,” clearly pleased with himself for making this straw man argument.

At this point, the reader may be thinking that the prophet Elijah is a typical whack job. Indeed, I will not discount this possibility. Nonetheless, I must say that I admire the Prophet Elijah, and not just for his ability to declare himself a prophet while holding a hodgepodge window cleaning cart with a straight face. No, in this age of yogis with entourages, ministers with private jets and politicians with private ministers with private jets, here is a guy who is just going around by bus washing windows and presumably living a simple life in the face of all the pointlessness around him.

In India, he could be a Sadhu with long dreadlocks, prayer beads and only an orange kurta longhi to his name. Here, he is a guy with a bucket full of cleaning supplies and squeegees stacked and strapped to a discarded baggage cart. So while I don’t feel any closer to Jesus as my personal savior (I still don’t think I require that) I do feel closer to the world in general.

Here’s to you, Prophet Elijah.