Occasionally, we suffer under the delusion that there can exist such a thing as a dull person. Prosaic people who think thus sadly do not have a sincere appreciation for the complexity of the human mind. Many things can be said of humans, but dull is certainly not one of them. On the contrary, generally the trouble is that people are too interesting. The case I have to present to you today is just such a case, of humans acting so strangely that it’s hard to understand or believe.
There exists, tucked somewhere in the mountains of West Virginia, a small, dilapidated, half abandoned mining town. In this town, there lived all his life an overweight, unmarried, kindly old police officer whose job consisted mostly of sleeping and mumbling. In fact, one look at the policeman would inspire any criminal with either laughter or pity. The police officer, while he did not command respect of any kind, was apparently loveable and was treated by most of the inhabitants of the town as something of a holy fool.
One day while on duty, the kindly policeman suffered a terrible stroke. He was rushed to a nearby hospital where against all odds he managed to survive. Within a week the police officer was back to work, but the townspeople began to notice slight differences in his behavior. Firstly, the gentle old policeman seemed to become, if possible, even more pathetic. He would begin to cry randomly and blubber gibberish to himself. His mental condition, however, began rapidly to deteriorate, and one day while seated cross legged on a rocking chair, he mentioned casually, and half apologetically that he was God. As can be imagined this cause something of a stir in town. The thought that God was their police officer was the source of much amusement, and the poor police officer became the butt of many jokes. The policeman, however, seemed completely unfazed by the ridicule of others, and when they laughed at him, he would stupidly laugh along.
The joke in the town grew and grew. Every day, in every corner of the town, one would hear a townsperson joke … “god forgot his glasses today”, “Or god seems more absent minded than usual”, or “god is relaxing in his rocking chair”. Towns people would laughing ask the policeman all sorts of silly questions like “Why did you make the stars?” but the policeman would just smile back self-deprecatingly and say, “Well otherwise the moon would get lonely …”. Over time though, something strange began happening in the little town. The townspeople most of whom had never seen a church since the last one closed a decade ago, began to change their attitude to the police officer.
When a woman would lose her son, the police officer would show up at the funeral, and the woman would feel somewhere a peace at the idea that God attended the funeral of her boy and that he cried for him too. When a man was afraid for the future, he took some strange relief from the fact the God was just a kindly old police officer who would do nobody any harm. And, strange to say, along with the ridicule, there began to grow in the town a strange love and loyalty to God. People would say to the rare visitor … “you see that in the police car right there, that’s god” … or … “that over there is our own town god, he is not much to look at I grant you, but still, he is ours.”
As the police officer’s health deteriorated, the town’s admiration for the kindly old police officer only increased. In fact, it seemed that the more helpless the old gentleman became the more loyalty the townspeople felt for him. Every evening a different towns person would invite the kindly old police officer over for dinner and occasionally host him and care for him through the night. Soon, God had another stroke, and the people of the town took over the care of God completely. They fed God, dressed him, and tried to make him happy. The more he deteriorated, the more childlike God became so that he would giggle at almost anything and everything. People began to anxiously come over all the time to check on God and make sure that he was okay and over the whole town their descended a mood of such love and tenderness as is strange to imagine. Finally on his death bed, many of the townspeople gathered and cried for God. They held his hands while he was dying and full-grown men said in tears that when they mocked him, they were only joking and that they loved him, but God only looked up at them and smiled.
When God died, the people’s reaction was such that even they would not have believed themselves capable. Some strange anguish poured forth out of some deep cavern in their hearts, and as they stood wailing that rainy day around the body, they felt for themselves, for each other, and for God a deeper pity, love, and loyalty than they would have thought possible. The commotion in the town was so intense that it made national news, and the whole country looked in amazement on the little group of lunatics who wailed for their dead God. Reporters poured in from all corners on the little town to mock and laugh, but strange to say the more they mocked the more beautiful the small, derided townspeople weeping for God became. The reporters soon felt this falsity in their tone and changed their message from outright mocking to respectful belittlement. They called the townspeople backwards and uneducated, but they did not know that it was they whose hearts were small.
Their now stands a giant mural for the kindly old policeman in that town, and the flowers around the grave site increase every day. The townspeople go there whenever their hearts are stirred to feel connected and to talk with God, and around the mural already a shrine is under construction to house the daily worshipers that come to pray. Pilgrims come now more and more from all the world to the small West Virginia town, to honor the kindly old gentleman who was God.