There's a cross stitch picture high up on the wall of the church above the harbour that reads, "Thou shalt have no other gods before me. You shall not make for yourself any idol, nor bow down to it or worship it." Their basic commandments aren't very different from ours: "I testify that there is no God but the One God..."
I'm sitting in a church on Friday, the Muslim holy day, examining an embroidered sampler of the Ten Commandments like I've never seen one before. I've rarely been in a church and don't know what most of the Commandments are. There's a poster for the Safe Church program up on the wall, letting us know how to report things like sexual misconduct by authorities. Churches in Canada are a loaded place to be. I feel uncomfortable. I'm torn between memory of what the church did in my lifetime and the fact that these individual people today were kind to me and others. Both those things are true. I don't know what forgiveness is or think it's necessary.
God gave the prophet Moses the tablets of commandments up on a mountain where Moses saw visions, God sent the angel Gabriel to teach Muhammad the Quran with instructions for Muslims on how to live and practice their faith in the cave of Hira where Muhammad was fasting and meditating during the month of Ramadan. I'm not sure the Anglican church in this small town would think Muslims were basically the same as Christians. Neither of us know what to make of each other.
It's supposed to be possible to apply for a $500 grant once a year to pay rent in an emergency, if you have a plan to pay it next month (I did). I spent nearly two weeks calling every number on the BC 211 list asking for the outreach worker for the Homelessness Prevention Fund. None of them knew who it was, some of them referred me to other organizations who didn't know or didn't apply to me and they also sent me to someone else. Some tried to be helpful and some wanted me to go away. I called the HPF directly and they said they were out of money for June, but they just manage the fund and can't authorize grants.
Somebody told me that I should go in in person, they can't tell who you are over the phone. All these organisations are in the capital though, it's a different city, I don't have gas money, I can't walk far enough to walk all over downtown. Our town has an extreme weather shelter now because the nearest homeless shelter was in the provincial capital, downtown.
A broad man in a Hawaiian shirt sitting in a folding chair next to me at the church soup kitchen this Friday has a cold wet cloth draped over his shaved head. It took me a while to guess why. It's June in Canada and it's a chilly 18C outdoors, cooler indoors. I'm wearing two shirts, but it could be hot for him. He says somebody tried to mug him for the rings on his fingers, and he told the thief that if he could get his rings off he could have them. And showed the table of people eating soup his huge fists.
His rings are gold, with a red carnelian stone. In Muslim cultures, it's a stone for good luck and protection from envy, engraved with tiny prayers and set into rings. The Prophet Muhammad is said to have worn a carnelian seal set in silver on his little finger, engraved with the words "Muhammad the Prophet of God," which he used to seal his letters. His son in law Uthman, the second Muslim ruler after Muhammad died, accidentally dropped the seal of the Prophet down a well and lost it forever 1400 years ago. I've dropped things off the wharf and watched them sink too.
Imam Ali al-Ridha said, "Carnelian takes away poverty and dissolves difference from one’s heart." And also, "Whosoever wears a turquoise ring will never become dependent." I tried that. It didn't work. Belief that it could be otherwise doesn't always alter fate. Maybe it's belief that it will be otherwise.
What counts as bad luck is a matter of perspective. At least we're not that other person, with real problems. It could always be worse. Don't let bigger misfortune befall us. I can deal with this one.
I'm sitting in a church on Friday, the Muslim holy day, examining an embroidered sampler of the Ten Commandments like I've never seen one before. I've rarely been in a church and don't know what most of the Commandments are. There's a poster for the Safe Church program up on the wall, letting us know how to report things like sexual misconduct by authorities. Churches in Canada are a loaded place to be. I feel uncomfortable. I'm torn between memory of what the church did in my lifetime and the fact that these individual people today were kind to me and others. Both those things are true. I don't know what forgiveness is or think it's necessary.
God gave the prophet Moses the tablets of commandments up on a mountain where Moses saw visions, God sent the angel Gabriel to teach Muhammad the Quran with instructions for Muslims on how to live and practice their faith in the cave of Hira where Muhammad was fasting and meditating during the month of Ramadan. I'm not sure the Anglican church in this small town would think Muslims were basically the same as Christians. Neither of us know what to make of each other.
It's supposed to be possible to apply for a $500 grant once a year to pay rent in an emergency, if you have a plan to pay it next month (I did). I spent nearly two weeks calling every number on the BC 211 list asking for the outreach worker for the Homelessness Prevention Fund. None of them knew who it was, some of them referred me to other organizations who didn't know or didn't apply to me and they also sent me to someone else. Some tried to be helpful and some wanted me to go away. I called the HPF directly and they said they were out of money for June, but they just manage the fund and can't authorize grants.
Somebody told me that I should go in in person, they can't tell who you are over the phone. All these organisations are in the capital though, it's a different city, I don't have gas money, I can't walk far enough to walk all over downtown. Our town has an extreme weather shelter now because the nearest homeless shelter was in the provincial capital, downtown.
A broad man in a Hawaiian shirt sitting in a folding chair next to me at the church soup kitchen this Friday has a cold wet cloth draped over his shaved head. It took me a while to guess why. It's June in Canada and it's a chilly 18C outdoors, cooler indoors. I'm wearing two shirts, but it could be hot for him. He says somebody tried to mug him for the rings on his fingers, and he told the thief that if he could get his rings off he could have them. And showed the table of people eating soup his huge fists.
His rings are gold, with a red carnelian stone. In Muslim cultures, it's a stone for good luck and protection from envy, engraved with tiny prayers and set into rings. The Prophet Muhammad is said to have worn a carnelian seal set in silver on his little finger, engraved with the words "Muhammad the Prophet of God," which he used to seal his letters. His son in law Uthman, the second Muslim ruler after Muhammad died, accidentally dropped the seal of the Prophet down a well and lost it forever 1400 years ago. I've dropped things off the wharf and watched them sink too.
Imam Ali al-Ridha said, "Carnelian takes away poverty and dissolves difference from one’s heart." And also, "Whosoever wears a turquoise ring will never become dependent." I tried that. It didn't work. Belief that it could be otherwise doesn't always alter fate. Maybe it's belief that it will be otherwise.
What counts as bad luck is a matter of perspective. At least we're not that other person, with real problems. It could always be worse. Don't let bigger misfortune befall us. I can deal with this one.
