Homeless High Jinks in the House of Holy

Interaction with homeless people takes on a whole new dimension when you attend church in New York City.

Some of the homeless greet you during your arrival and departure from church, while others sleep in the pews during each service.

I get to see some of them so often, that I have coined nicknames for each of them.

One of my favorite guys at church is ZZ Top. He sits over by one of the confessionals and is always sporting the Billy Gibbons look. (Gibbons is the lead singer for ZZ Top) He isn’t what you would call a “Sharp Dressed Man,” but "ZZ" has a very distinctive snore and always seems annoyed by the singing of the congregation.

--Billy Gibbons sporting cheap sunglasses--

During one Sunday service before Easter, I noticed that "ZZ" kept waking himself up with a dry cough. After the service, I fetched a cup of orange juice for him.

“Excuse me, sir." (No, I didn't call him "ZZ!")

He looked up and I offered the cup of juice to him.

“Is it drugged?” ZZ asked me.

“Nope, it's just orange juice.”

He thanked me, slugged it down and handed the cup back.

As I made my way out of the foyer, I ran into a different bearded homeless man (Not ZZ) who was a bit more on the aggressive side. "C'mon man, you got some money for me?"

I had a dollar ready for him, but apparently this donation was not acceptable.

“A dollar, a damned dollar? Unreal. Cheap man, real cheap!”

I smiled and nodded at him, not realizing that our paths would be crossing again very soon.

I walked down the church steps as he glared down at me.

The next week was the Easter celebration that actually took place on a Saturday night.

I was to take part in the Easter service by being confirmed with a group of other people at the front of the church.

Several members of the congregation moved to the front of the church to witness the ceremony.

When my turn came to be confirmed, I noticed two people carving a path through the crowd. Wouldn’t you know it -- it was the “dollar guy” from last week! The "dollar guy" was munching on a large bag of lays. He cut right in front of the priest and gave me a little grin though his chip-spackled teeth.

New York is funny that way.

That kind of interruption would be highly disruptive in almost any other town in the country, but in New York City, it added a little bit of extra flavor and charm to the evening.

The priest and I shared a brief laugh and the ceremony continued on like nothing out of the ordinary had happened.