Talking Grace; Talking Hate

And the words of the prophets
Are written on the subway walls
                                            -- Paul Simon
                                              The Sounds of Silence

He entered the Yellow Line Metro car, a smiling black man probably in his early 40s, and sat down directly across from us, next to a young woman reading a book.

"I'm Chuck. I 'm a subway preacher and rapper," he said in a loud clear voice, looking first at us and then turning left to look at more of the passengers, some standing, most sitting in the crowded rush hour train headed toward DC.

"Now I have a statement. It's not a confession. A statement ... not a confession," he said, slowing his phrasing for emphasis. "I am a sinner. I am human, therefore I am a sinner."

"I know I have sinned today. Let me look at my phone. It's 6:15. I've sinned  ... oh 6 or 7 times today, probably more like 10 or 12 if I thought really hard about it. But that's OK. I'm a sinner. Jesus Christ came to take care of my sins. Through him I can be forgiven."

The young woman next to Chuck buried herself deeper in her reading. The older man to Chuck's immediate left, their shoes almost touching, looked awkward and pained. The 2 women in fashionable boots, possibly secretaries for some Arlington business firm, stood 3 feet from Chuck, talking and making plans for their weekend. The rest of the commuters throughout the car seemed oblivious, doing whatever it is that passengers do on the 6:15 Metro after a day of work.

"Let's keep it real," Chuck said, reaching into the black gym bag he had dropped by his feet when he first came through the Metro doors. He pulled out a black, well-worn copy of  the Bible. "Keep it real. I am going to read something here. I need to hear it. You need to hear it."

He read from Ephesians Chapter 2: Verses 8-10. He started face forward, then turned slowly left, then right, as he read in a clear and passion-filled voice. "For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God —  not by works, so that no one can boast.  For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do."

"Do you hear that? That is God's gift. He gave it to me. He gave it to you. You can't buy that gift. If you bought it, then it wouldn't be a gift. You cannot earn it. God gives it to you. You should do good works. But his Grace, God gives it to you."

"You see," he stood up, the Bible in his left hand. "We are all the same. I  am no better than you. You are no better than me. He is no better than her. She is no better than him. We all have grace. We all have God's gift."

He sat down. He carefully placed the Bible back in his gym bag, which he slung over his shoulder. He adjusted the brown Kango hat which had slipped slightly when he had bent forward to store his Bible. The train slowed as it reached the L'Enfant Plaza Station. It lurched a few times and came to a stop. The doors opened. Chuck sprang from his seat. "This is my stop. I must go now," he said. "But you have a blessed day." He disappeared out the door. The young woman continued reading. The older man just looked relieved.

Tales, Tidbits, and Tips

As I listened to our Metro missionary, I was reminded of another voice I had been hearing all week - the voice of conservative radio commentator Rush Limbaugh. One speaker's voice was filled with words of grace; the other with words of hate. One speaker rode a train, speaking to an audience that appeared not to hear; the other sat in front of a microphone, his voice riding the airways to thousands and thousands of listeners nationwide. One speaker asked for no money, convinced that all he needed was contained in the black bag he carried; the other is scheduled to make an estimated $400 million to rant until 2016. One speaker called for equality; the other created disunity. Interestingly, if asked, they both  would say they were doing God's work. However, if there turns out to be a Heaven, I think they may be in for quite different receptions there. One speaker might hear: "you spoke of My grace. Come in. The gates are open." The other might hear "Sorry. Slut just doesn't cut it here. You sir, can rush straight to hell."