The Preacher - Part 1

(This is a work of Fiction interspersed with doses of reality)
One Saturday afternoon, I was enjoying a steaming cup of coffee in a cafe in Oxford Street, watching the world swirl all around me. Although the cafe is buzzing with chatty shoppers alongside strains of jazz and blues music in the background, the real action lies outside where thousands of people from all walks of life race to and fro, making the most of their weekends. It was a particularly sunny day and the sunlight streaming through the windows brightened the dull woodwork and sober colours inside the cafe.

Looking around me I noticed on my right were a pair of young lovers holding hands, looking misty eyed at one another and laughing to softly, ahead of me sat a small group of elderly ladies who were clearly enjoying their day out and playing crossword games. There were other tables occupied by people either on their own or with others. I also noticed a middle-aged man with his hair tied in a ponytail wearing a long raincoat, a baseball cap and a pair of gloves sitting by the window in the far corner looking out into the street.

As I was preparing to leave in stormed a rather large heavyset man wearing a noticeably shiny Crucifix around his neck stormed in clutching a shoulder bag. He looked around and began distributing leaflets all around the cafe. He began talking to some of the people asking if they had heard of Jesus and if they knew that the only way to Heaven was through Christ alone. There was a woman wearing a headscarf and I noticed her discomfort when he went up to her and began raising his voice proclaiming the sole validity of his religious beliefs as opposed to any other.

His words were to me anyway, nothing new. I have patiently listened to passionate discourses about religious and/or spiritual beliefs from various people over the years and each one of them has displayed the same enthusiasm and firmness of belief in theirs being the only way to God or salvation. I have learnt to take it in my stride of course after all; don’t we all have the right to choose what is the most appropriate path for ourselves?

Back to the cafe and the murmur had died down by now. The preacher had moved from the Muslim lady to others and seemed to be encouraged by the quietened response he received. He now had an audience. While I need not repeat his words dear reader, it will suffice to say that his preaching was perceived more as a disturbance and the staff at the cafe were exchanging nervous looks at one another. I suspect they must have been trained for this sort of occurrence and a member of staff would call local security sooner or later.

The preacher turned his attentions to the man in the trench coat in the far corner and approached him asking him if he believed in God and more importantly believed in Christ as the only way to salvation. The pony-tailed man did not respond or look at the preacher, he kept his head down, drinking his coffee quietly. The preacher seemed to get somewhat agitated and raised his voice throwing a few pamphlets down at the table calling him a sinner and that his redemption lay in repentance. Suddenly the pony-tailed man raised his head and looked directly at the preacher. I was not close enough to understand what transpired between them but the preacher abruptly stopped and stood frozen for a moment. He then turned and moved rapidly towards the exit. He appeared to be in the greatest of hurry to leave the cafe and knocked an empty chair down in the process.

Everyone looked at the pony-tailed man who I suspect may have been of mixed caucasian and middle-eastern descent. He was of medium height and had a trimly cut beard. He looked around and our eyes met for a lingering moment. He then stood up and walked towards the exit. After he left, the murmuring around the cafe returned to normal, this time with relief in the air.

The Preacher Part 2

I finished my coffee and I was leaving as well. Having glanced at the table where the bearded stranger sat, I noticed he left behind a small book, which seemed to glow in the sunlight. As it was just a few moments since he had left the cafe, I thought I might as well return it to him. Taking the book I rushed out and looked on either side of the street hoping to catch sight of the stranger. I noticed him on the opposite side of the street walking towards Hyde Park. I crossed at the traffic light and called out to him. Of course he was not going to hear me but I thought I'd call out anyway. I ran up to him and showed him the book. He looked at it with the look of mild surprise on his face and thanked me. He had a very warm presence and I felt as if I had met him previously or known him before. He walked on and I followed him.

Not knowing what to say I introduced myself thanking him for what he had done in the cafe. I didn’t quite hear what his name was. He smiled broadly and said he did nothing in the cafe and that it was the collective will of everybody which sent the false preacher away. He then chuckled as if lost in thought- 'Everybody seems to know all the answers...and yet they are so desperate to make others validate those answers for them.'
I laughed along with him saying that I believed in what the man said but also that all other religions were equally valid as the teachers of those paths were as Divine like Jesus.He looked at me warmly and asked me 'Do you suppose young man that God's heart is big enough to love everybody equally, so much so that He would send His teachers again and again to this world to make the blind see and the deaf hear? I thought for a moment and replied 'Yes I do.' He seemed pleased with my answer and put his right arm around my shoulder 'Come then, walk with me a little further'.

We walked in silence, side by side. Upon entering Hyde Park we stopped beside a row of trees. 'This is such a beautiful day' he said ' such beautiful life.. such a beautiful world...' he stood beside me, eyes closed facing the sun, the sky, the trees, feeling the warm summers breeze silently for a few moments.

I knew by then that this was no ordinary man, he radiated a very genuine warmth and standing next to him I could feel a strong tug at my heart, a wave of love for all the people in my life, for all the experiences that I had and more importantly a strong wave of love for myself. I felt blessed. While I do not know the reasons for these beautiful and powerful emotions, I could not bring myself to reason with anything. I just wanted to soak in this moment and just exist in it like I had never done before. I opened my eyes and realised that in those few moments I had been crying to myself. He was standing before me, smiling and looked right into my eyes. I felt compelled to close my eyes for I did not know what was happening to me.

Love does this to us dear reader. It reconnects us with the innermost core of ourselves, bringing us back in touch with the very substance of who we essential are. In this space, neither the ego nor the materialistic world with its myriad social norms exist. We do not have to be anyone or anything else. We just are-purity, divinity, a unity with the soul and spirit of the universe. When you experience the truth coursing through your veins, what can you do but let it overflow through tears.

I felt wave upon wave of love, not the kind of love you feel for a person or for an object or any other kind of mundane love. This was an ancient love, the existence I suspected in the deepest parts of my being and yet never realised existed. If anyone wants to know what love is dear reader, this is what real, unadulterated, love is. It does not end and does not begin. It is beyond words or description. It just felt as if this love would engulf me or dissolve me into itself. I felt like a 10-watt bulb and a million watts of electricity was being passed through me. Could this have been the bliss, which mystics have experienced throughout the ages?

This bliss subsided gently and I opened my eyes.
'I have to go now, thank you for walking with me.' He smiled again.'Sir the Honour is mine, I don’t know what to say, you seem to know my very soul' I sobbed softly, it felt as if my dearest friend or brother was leaving me for good.
'Shhh my child'..he put his hand on my head gently ..' feel the grass beneath your feet..look at the trees around you, the sky above you...listen to the noises around you...feel the heartbeat inside you..do you not know..my beloved son...I am always with you..inside you..around you...
I hugged him like a young child not wanting him to let his father go but I felt deep gratitude for whoever he was and wherever He came from.

He gave me his little book and told me to compose the story of my life in its pages. I opened it and it was completely blank. We stood for a few moments in silence in the midst of a light summers breeze and I experienced a kindred connection with this man, something I had experienced many times before in perhaps another time, another place. He then began walking away from me towards the other end of the park. I stood at that spot watching this magnificent, divine, mystical stranger walk away, clutching his book to my heart.

A little distance away he turned around and looked at me.
He removed his gloves, touched his heart and waved. As he waved goodbye, even from that distance I noticed his right hand, and the sight of it mesmerised me, for right in the centre of his palm was a large hole left by a wound inflicted a very long time ago...