My recent experiences have prompted some profound reflections on the intersection of faith, perceived worthiness, and ethical conduct in our daily lives. These encounters, while seemingly minor, offer potent microcosmic insights into broader societal dynamics.

In another microcosmic indicator, I noticed a woman begging in front of a church for food or money.   Being prepared, I had gift certificates for food in my pocket.   After giving her a gift certificate for a meal, I spoke briefly with her. Since she was standing in front of the church, I said, “Why don’t you go in and sit there and listen to what they have to say?”   She said one thing, “I’m not worthy.    Of course, that’s where the conversation ended because I was not going to engage in finding out why she is not worthy or why she perceived as being unworthy.   The lady encountered was likely a close-to-homeless, impoverished person, not a perceived negative energy mass shooter or worse. Even then, the multitude of circumstances indicates we should forgive them; thus, they should be considered worthy.  Why did she feel that she was not worthy? If I see her again, I’m going to ask her the question.  Regardless of why she feels unworthy, she should be forgiven and allowed to continue her life by engaging with spiritual and other communities.

When I recently had a moving interaction with a woman seeking assistance outside a church, I offered her a gift certificate for a meal. In our brief conversation, I gently suggested she might find solace by entering the church. Her response, a quiet and poignant “I’m not worthy,” struck me deeply. It highlighted a profound internal struggle, a feeling of being undeserving of spiritual comfort or community. This single statement underscored a significant challenge: how do we ensure that places of faith are perceived as havens of unconditional acceptance and compassion, rather than sources of judgment or exclusion? Regardless of the personal journey that led her to feel this way, our spiritual communities must extend an open invitation, offering grace and a path towards healing and belonging to all who seek it, especially those most vulnerable.

This interaction brought to mind another, starkly contrasting experience. I once purchased a car from a dealer who made repeated references to his father being a pastor. I found myself pondering the significance of this detail throughout the negotiation. As it turned out, the vehicle was a complete mechanical failure, requiring extensive and costly repairs – essentially a “lemon.” This incident led me to question the dealer’s motives. Was the mention of his father’s sacred profession an attempt to cultivate a false sense of trust, a calculated tactic to gain an advantage? If so, it would sadly reinforce a hypothesis I’ve observed concerning the potential misuse of religious affiliation as a tool for subservience or manipulation in secular dealings.

These two distinct scenarios, one portraying a deeply felt lack of worthiness and the other suggesting a cynical exploitation of religious identity, compel me to consider their larger implications. We often see public figures, such as politicians, engaging with prominent religious leaders or institutions. This can be a powerful symbol of shared values and a commitment to communal well-being. However, these “microcosmic” instances raise a critical question: are such engagements always driven by genuine spiritual conviction and a desire for positive impact, or do they sometimes echo the more calculated, self-serving strategies exemplified by the used car dealer? It prompts us to reflect on the authenticity behind public displays of faith and the enduring importance of integrity, whether in personal interactions, business transactions, or matters of public service. True faith, in its purest form, should inspire genuine compassion and ethical conduct, not be wielded as a means to an end.

Richard Thomas Simmons