Ah Palm Sunday, the day Jesus came back from the desert and rode through the streets on a donkey while people waived palm fronds at him or laid them in front of him, maybe it was a horse. I’m not really sure about the details. I would have received some clarification had I attended any of the millions of churches that celebrate this holy day, I did not. I was in Denver for a pre-work conference vacation followed by a work conference and it was 75 degrees and sunny so I got up Sunday morning and went for a run, I planned to follow my run with a visit to the local Cathedral. I even witnessed the first service parishioners lining up outside of the church receiving their palms. I planned to be in the same line in about an hour in a half, key word “planned”.
Week #9 Denver, CO Street Preacher The church I planned to attend
The guy I listened to instead
The concept of Palm Sunday would be worth exploring in this blog. It is fascinating that they still pass out the palms to every guest. What do you do with them after that? It is kinda like a National Geographic, you’re done with it, but can’t really throw it away. So, just like the National Graphics, you find a place for it. You can tuck it behind the crucifix on your hallway wall if you’re Catholic, or you can weave it into a cross if you’re crafty, or you can put it in your rearview mirror if you’re Spanish. This gave me a lot to think about while I ran, and then it hit me…oh not what to do with my palm, what hit me was the altitude, hangover, and breakfast burrito. It is harder than I thought to run in the mile high city, even harder after a night of craft brews and a huge breakfast that I ordered with the intention of only eating “half”. So after a solid 15 minute run, I was ready for a walk/smoothie break. Luckily I had landed at Denver’s 16th Street Mall, offering several blocks of pedestrian shopping, eating and on Sunday mornings home to a 16th Street Mall street preacher.
We’ve all passed by a street preacher on our way to happy hour or economics 202. Who can forget the posters of late term abortion fetuses or the verbal reminder that we are going to rot in Hell. It takes a special mix of crazy, prior addiction, corduroy skirts, blind conviction and oration skills to make a street preacher. We’ve all stopped and watched for a minute or two, or sneakily posed behind them with our yard of beer while our friend snapped an iphone photo, but this time I stayed to listen. For three reasons really, I had to finish my smoothie before I could finish running, this guy seemed to be a happy preacher, and literally no one else was listening. His voice carried too, it wasn’t as if no one could hear. It was sad that his passion was falling on deaf ears; it was just background noise like a passing bus or music spewing from H&M.
I sat on a bench across the street and clandestinely listened as he preached from a doorway in the facade of an office building. His pulpit created just the right acoustics to allow his voice to carry down the street. At this point I would have been either late or smelly for real church so I committed to stay for at least 30 minutes, somehow that seemed fair enough to count for the week. Plus, he seemed truly passionate and I was interested to learn what drove this passion. He was preaching out with a good chance that no one would even listen, yet he felt what he had to say was so important that he would continue on the off chance that even one person would hear. That is pretty deep, I’ve never been that passionate about anything and I respect that. In the close to forty minutes that I sat listening, I learned the following things: 1. Jesus saved this particular preacher from a life in jail (no cynicism here, that is awesome, I mean if your faith can turn your life around what more can you ask for?) 2. Jesus can cure AIDS 3. Jesus can cure the diabetes 4. Street preachers bank on no one listening for more than 2 minutes so they really just say the same thing over and over againRegardless it is still a fascinating form of religious expression. It is one thing to speak in front of a group that got dressed up to hear you preach a sermon in-line with their believes, but it takes balls to stand up in front of random shoppers who probably just think you’re a bit crazy.I wanted to go up and talk to him after, I wanted to know more of his story (truthfully I got the bulk of it in the 40 minutes I was listening) but I’d love to know why he feels this is the best forum to deliver his message, what does he do the other 6 days of the week and how can he preach like that without a water break. So many questions were still unanswered. But low-income middle-aged crazy guys tend to find me attractive, especially those with gold teeth. It is a blessing and a curse, well more of a curse, a curse that has resulted in several awkward conversations at gas stations and convenient stores. It wasn’t worth it.
Week #9 Denver, CO Street Preacher The church I planned to attend
The guy I listened to instead
The concept of Palm Sunday would be worth exploring in this blog. It is fascinating that they still pass out the palms to every guest. What do you do with them after that? It is kinda like a National Geographic, you’re done with it, but can’t really throw it away. So, just like the National Graphics, you find a place for it. You can tuck it behind the crucifix on your hallway wall if you’re Catholic, or you can weave it into a cross if you’re crafty, or you can put it in your rearview mirror if you’re Spanish. This gave me a lot to think about while I ran, and then it hit me…oh not what to do with my palm, what hit me was the altitude, hangover, and breakfast burrito. It is harder than I thought to run in the mile high city, even harder after a night of craft brews and a huge breakfast that I ordered with the intention of only eating “half”. So after a solid 15 minute run, I was ready for a walk/smoothie break. Luckily I had landed at Denver’s 16th Street Mall, offering several blocks of pedestrian shopping, eating and on Sunday mornings home to a 16th Street Mall street preacher.We’ve all passed by a street preacher on our way to happy hour or economics 202. Who can forget the posters of late term abortion fetuses or the verbal reminder that we are going to rot in Hell. It takes a special mix of crazy, prior addiction, corduroy skirts, blind conviction and oration skills to make a street preacher. We’ve all stopped and watched for a minute or two, or sneakily posed behind them with our yard of beer while our friend snapped an iphone photo, but this time I stayed to listen. For three reasons really, I had to finish my smoothie before I could finish running, this guy seemed to be a happy preacher, and literally no one else was listening. His voice carried too, it wasn’t as if no one could hear. It was sad that his passion was falling on deaf ears; it was just background noise like a passing bus or music spewing from H&M.
I sat on a bench across the street and clandestinely listened as he preached from a doorway in the facade of an office building. His pulpit created just the right acoustics to allow his voice to carry down the street. At this point I would have been either late or smelly for real church so I committed to stay for at least 30 minutes, somehow that seemed fair enough to count for the week. Plus, he seemed truly passionate and I was interested to learn what drove this passion. He was preaching out with a good chance that no one would even listen, yet he felt what he had to say was so important that he would continue on the off chance that even one person would hear. That is pretty deep, I’ve never been that passionate about anything and I respect that. In the close to forty minutes that I sat listening, I learned the following things: 1. Jesus saved this particular preacher from a life in jail (no cynicism here, that is awesome, I mean if your faith can turn your life around what more can you ask for?) 2. Jesus can cure AIDS 3. Jesus can cure the diabetes 4. Street preachers bank on no one listening for more than 2 minutes so they really just say the same thing over and over againRegardless it is still a fascinating form of religious expression. It is one thing to speak in front of a group that got dressed up to hear you preach a sermon in-line with their believes, but it takes balls to stand up in front of random shoppers who probably just think you’re a bit crazy.I wanted to go up and talk to him after, I wanted to know more of his story (truthfully I got the bulk of it in the 40 minutes I was listening) but I’d love to know why he feels this is the best forum to deliver his message, what does he do the other 6 days of the week and how can he preach like that without a water break. So many questions were still unanswered. But low-income middle-aged crazy guys tend to find me attractive, especially those with gold teeth. It is a blessing and a curse, well more of a curse, a curse that has resulted in several awkward conversations at gas stations and convenient stores. It wasn’t worth it.
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