There's an old parable about a man caught in a flood in his house. As the water rises, someone comes by with truck. "No," he says, "God will save me." Soon a boat comes by, then a helicopter to get him to safety. He resists them both, shouting "God will save me." Alas, the water finally sweeps him to his death. In the afterlife, he encounters God and asks him why. "I believed in you, and yet you didn't save me." God shakes his head: "I sent you a truck, a boat and a helicopter. What more did you need as proof of my existence?"
I'm not a religious person and am highly unqualified to weigh in on matters involving theology. But for me at least, if there is one piece of evidence that proves that there is a higher being, it is Paul Alcorn.
Paul is the minister of the local Presbyterian church, and is retiring after nearly three decades of leading his congregation. I am not a member of that body; indeed I am not even of that faith. And so I will leave it to others to detail all that he did for that extended family. Likewise, there are others who can better catalog the many other examples of his compassion and outreach, like the trips he made to Central America and elsewhere, bringing a thousand adults and kids there to help rebuild houses, the Midnight Runs to offer food and comfort to the homeless, the Emergency Shelter Partnership he helped start, the scholarship money he helped raise, a list that goes on and on and is almost too long to enumerate, but which we most definitely should.
No, I knew him because we have kids the same age, and so interacted as fellow parents. Back then Paul and I weren't that friendly, merely people living in the same small town. We crossed paths on and off, but once our kids got older, had no more than a nodding acquaintance. Then a few years ago, running into him at an event, we reconnected. But we did it as adults, and so the basis of our new renewed friendship was different. And I got to know him not as a religious leader, a former School Board member, a community advocate – all of which he was – but as a friend and person.
It's rare you get to experience someone who has so pure a heart, has no ulterior motive, no ax to grind, a person who has no agenda other than to make the world a better place. He's smart and empathetic and open, all things you want anyone to be, and he is that way without any pretense. I know that all of that is part of his "job" but rarely is there so close a match between what a person truly is and the occupation they choose, or perhaps in this case, one that chose him.
Several years ago Paul started a group called Pub Theology that meets once a month in a bar to talk about faith. Over time we have had many a thoughtful conversation with an animated group about matters big and small. We all say our piece, but we invariably turn to Paul. There is silence for a bit, as he is lost in thought. He then quietly raises points that that help illuminate rather than color. In those discussions we never solve the problems of the world, but we do feel that maybe we connected some threads, and the person who helped us weave it together was Paul.
At a retirement reception for Paul and his wife Shodie, person after person came up and extolled his virtues, and rightfully so. Paul then spoke, and talked about how much he had gotten back from the community, how much he would miss the town and the church, and how he hoped we all would all continue the good work of which he had been privileged to be a part. As he closed, he rejected "Goodbye" as too finite. Rather, he said he preferred "Adiós." While it is indeed Spanish for the same, its derivation is "May You Be Commended to God," making it both a salutation and a blessing. I might suggest one more for him: Godspeed. For if ever there was a person who deserves that sendoff it's him. As for us, may we all of be fortunate enough to know a Paul in our own lifetime.
-END-
Marc Wollin lives in Bedford, NY. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.
I'm not a religious person and am highly unqualified to weigh in on matters involving theology. But for me at least, if there is one piece of evidence that proves that there is a higher being, it is Paul Alcorn.
Paul is the minister of the local Presbyterian church, and is retiring after nearly three decades of leading his congregation. I am not a member of that body; indeed I am not even of that faith. And so I will leave it to others to detail all that he did for that extended family. Likewise, there are others who can better catalog the many other examples of his compassion and outreach, like the trips he made to Central America and elsewhere, bringing a thousand adults and kids there to help rebuild houses, the Midnight Runs to offer food and comfort to the homeless, the Emergency Shelter Partnership he helped start, the scholarship money he helped raise, a list that goes on and on and is almost too long to enumerate, but which we most definitely should.
No, I knew him because we have kids the same age, and so interacted as fellow parents. Back then Paul and I weren't that friendly, merely people living in the same small town. We crossed paths on and off, but once our kids got older, had no more than a nodding acquaintance. Then a few years ago, running into him at an event, we reconnected. But we did it as adults, and so the basis of our new renewed friendship was different. And I got to know him not as a religious leader, a former School Board member, a community advocate – all of which he was – but as a friend and person.
It's rare you get to experience someone who has so pure a heart, has no ulterior motive, no ax to grind, a person who has no agenda other than to make the world a better place. He's smart and empathetic and open, all things you want anyone to be, and he is that way without any pretense. I know that all of that is part of his "job" but rarely is there so close a match between what a person truly is and the occupation they choose, or perhaps in this case, one that chose him.
Several years ago Paul started a group called Pub Theology that meets once a month in a bar to talk about faith. Over time we have had many a thoughtful conversation with an animated group about matters big and small. We all say our piece, but we invariably turn to Paul. There is silence for a bit, as he is lost in thought. He then quietly raises points that that help illuminate rather than color. In those discussions we never solve the problems of the world, but we do feel that maybe we connected some threads, and the person who helped us weave it together was Paul.
At a retirement reception for Paul and his wife Shodie, person after person came up and extolled his virtues, and rightfully so. Paul then spoke, and talked about how much he had gotten back from the community, how much he would miss the town and the church, and how he hoped we all would all continue the good work of which he had been privileged to be a part. As he closed, he rejected "Goodbye" as too finite. Rather, he said he preferred "Adiós." While it is indeed Spanish for the same, its derivation is "May You Be Commended to God," making it both a salutation and a blessing. I might suggest one more for him: Godspeed. For if ever there was a person who deserves that sendoff it's him. As for us, may we all of be fortunate enough to know a Paul in our own lifetime.
-END-
Marc Wollin lives in Bedford, NY. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.
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