March 28, 2011

A Man Named Roscoe

Roscoe doesn’t look like the rest of us.

Whatever word he had tattooed across his knuckles has faded into unrecognizable squiggles. His hair, though neatly combed, hangs over his ears, several months past a cut. He talks about Jesus and the end times quite a bit, sometimes a little more than this sedate Episcopal crowd knows how to handle.

Roscoe started coming to the Wednesday night Bible study after Christmas. He stays afterward for a recovery meeting. 

He volunteered to read the scripture lesson a few weeks ago. Most of us tensed, not knowing if this man so clearly down on his luck would be able to navigate the verses. His reading was flawless – even in the King James. 

During dinner, he talks about life, the weather, his sweet dog. Sometimes he shares the challenges of living in an apartment without water and how he's managing on the last of his savings after a friend skipped town without paying him for work. 

Last week, he joined the church choir. He’s untrained but his voice rings out in sweet earnest, making me feel like I’m sitting around a campfire, singing without caring if all the notes are right.

Roscoe will make us examine ourselves. 

We take pride in being a congregation that helps the needy and feeds the hungry, supports issues of social justice, and offers a voice of reason and acceptance. We believe ourselves to be a church that reaches out into the community. 

But what happens when that community reaches back in?