Drunkards and Policemen

You claim that you are without religion, but a few nights each week, you call the police once more to report the drunkards in the park. They’re at it again tonight. It’s well past midnight, and they are shouting incoherently and singing to the stars.

What you don’t know is that whenever the drunkards leave the tavern, the bartender warns them: “Behave yourselves out there. You don’t want the police to give you a beating. Don’t let them catch you!”

“Oh, no,” the drunkards say. “We won’t!”

Once they are outside, though, the drunkards see the stars and can’t help themselves. They stumble around the lake, singing a song of praise. How they adore the universe and its mysteries! Whatever their particular words, what they are singing and shouting is always Thank you!

When the police arrive, the drunkards laugh. They do not try to run away. The cops arrest them and take them to jail, where the drunkards sleep it off. When they wake up, they pay their fines, go home, and sleep some more.

Finally, they have to get ready for work. They shower and shave, these men who were drunk but now are entirely sober. They put on their uniforms, strap on their guns and batons. At the station house, the sergeant for the night shift says to them, “There have been complaints about drunks in the park again. We have to discourage this once and for all. When you bring these guys in, don’t be too gentle about it.”

“Oh, no,” the policemen say. “We won’t!”

Once they arrive in the park, though, they hear the songs of praise and can’t help themselves. As they arrest the drunkards, the policemen make sure the handcuffs are not too tight. They guide the celebrants to their jail cells as if these men were their brothers.

In the eyes of their church, they are indeed brothers. Drinking and arresting are the twin sacraments of their religion. And you, making your phone calls, without even knowing it, you are a secret member of the congregation.