Who would bring a cheesecake to a cathedral?

Who would bring a cheesecake to a cathedral?

That question kept rolling through my mind as I sat behind the man.  He was obviously a coal miner and looked like he’d just come from the mines.  He was covered in soot and smelled of coal and caves and sweaty, blue-collar work.  Beside him sat a cheesecake that looked quite scrumptious.  I’m a sucker for cheesecake.  We’d both obviously come for our moments of quiet, reflective prayer.  I felt that one of us was out of place and maybe it wasn’t him.  Maybe it was me.  I hadn’t come directly from my work.  I just stopped by on the spur of the moment.  But I was finding concentrating difficult.  I was eyeing that cheesecake.  Boy, it looked good.

About that time the wind picked up and I could hear dirt and debris being driven against the cathedral’s stained glass windows.  Suddenly this wasn’t just a place of worship.  It was shelter from Mother  Nature’s  wrath.  But the coal miner didn’t seem to notice that the weather had deteriorated outside.  He was quietly contemplating in the pew two rows ahead of me.  But through the space between the back of the pew and the seat I could see that cheesecake, and it was starting to dominate my thoughts to the exclusion of all else. 

What is it about a cheesecake that is so enticing?  Is it the creamy filling, the graham-cracker crust laden with sugar, or the cherry filling topping? Probably all three.  I wonder if this is to be his supper, or he’s taking it to his elderly mom?  I’m tempted to ask, but of course I don’t.  This is, after all, a cathedral.   And thoughts should be about more spiritual things than the destination of a tempting cheesecake.  Why can’t I concentrate on my prayers? 

Obviously this man is doing a better job at controlling his thoughts than I am.  He has barely moved a muscle since I walked in and sat down behind him 15 minutes ago.   Back then the sky was bright and clear, my intention was to slip into the cathedral and share some private spiritual thoughts with our God and creator, and then be on my way once again.  Instead, I’m obsessing about this cheesecake and wondering why I don’t have the mental discipline to control my thoughts.  Good grief! 

I’m beginning to think the dust storm is subsiding as the sound isn’t nearly as loud as it was a few minutes ago.  Who knew the wind could create such a cacophony of noise in a church?  But the devotion candles continue to flicker in the racks near the altar, and the building mysteriously creaks and moans but there is no discernible movement.  And the coal miner continues as if nothing has changed.  Boy, these pews are hard.  I shift my position to relieve the pressure on my tail bone, and it hurts.  Obviously I’ve sat too much on my duff today.  Maybe I’ll try kneeling for a while, which I should do anyway in this House of God. 

Now it’s harder to see the cheesecake.   But I know it’s still there.  The coal miner is wearing a soot-covered red, long-sleeve flannel shirt and a black vest.  I have to assume it’s black.  Either that or the soot has made it black.  Finally now I notice a small movement of his head.  This is the first sign in more than 15 minutes that he’s not really a mannequin.  He fishes a soiled, white handkerchief from his back pocket, then takes a moment to clear his nose of, what I assume to be, a day’s worth of coal dust.  After a cleansing wipe or two, he stuffs the handkerchief back into his right back pocket. 

While I’m lost in thoughts totally unrelated to why I came into the cathedral, the coal miner silently stands, picks up his cheesecake and slides from the pew.  In a moment he is gone.  The door quietly clicks behind him.  It’s time for me to get down to business and talk to God.  That’s why I came here.  Not to study humanity or exercise mental gymnastics over an eight-dollar dessert.  But I think when I’m through praying I’ll stop at the store on the way home…