In a small church, a priest stood lighting candles behind an altar draped in white cloth. As he finished lighting the last one, Patrick was startled by a noise at the entrance, almost dropping the lit candle he was holding. He carefully placed the candle down before turning to face the pews. Walking down the aisle between the pews was a man, obviously drunk. He weaved his way from the front doors towards where Patrick stood. Bracing himself for a possibly violent confrontation, Patrick walked around the altar to stand before it.

As unsteady as he was, the drunkard seemed very determined and it was but a short time before he stood in front of the altar. He stared hard at Patrick, making the hairs on the back of Patrick’s neck prickle.

Taking a steadying breath, Patrick smiled and said, “Welcome to St. Michael’s church. Is there something I can help you with?”

The man continued to stare at him. Patrick began to think of how he could tactfully retreat. But, before the thought could fully form in his mind, the man spoke.

“How do you know there is a God?”

Patrick stepped back, shocked. His first thought was, How dare this drunken man question me about God in a church? But, running a close second was, How do I know there is a God? “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean, how do you,” he pointed at Patrick, “know there is a God. How can you worship someone you don’t even know exists? Does He speak to you? Cause he sure as hell don’t speak to me. Nor anyone I’ve ever talked to.” He lurched forward, causing Patrick to step back once more. His back hit the altar. “Then you priest guys go taking money in the name of this God, off of poor, gullible sods who don’t know no better.” He scowled, glaring at Patrick. “How can you stand yourself?”

With one more withering glance, the man staggered back down the aisle and out of the church. Patrick leaned against the altar, shaking. Thoughts ran through his head like dogs on a hunt, chasing and yapping at the heels of his faith. How did he know if there was a God?

This question had plagued him since he was a teenager. It was the reason that he had joined the clergy after college. He wanted to understand God better. But, as much as he had studied the Bible and spoken with other priests, he had never come up with a satisfactory explanation for the enigma that was God.

Shaking his head, Patrick cursed his blasphemous thoughts and went about his duties. However, a small part of his mind continued to chase those thoughts. He tried not to acknowledge them, but they remained, unbidden.

At the end of the day, as he was blowing out the candles on the altar, thoughts of the drunken man came to the front of his mind. The questions the man had brought up worked through his thoughts, mixing up his mind. Deciding he needed to clear his head, Patrick walked home instead of catching the bus.

It wasn’t late, but the sky was growing dark. Walking down a dimly lit street, Patrick saw a warm glow in the near distance. On impulse, he headed for it. As he neared the source of the light, he saw that it was a small tavern on the corner of two faintly lit streets. On any other day, Patrick would have taken one look at the place and kept on walking, but today he walked in the door of The Dancing Pig.

The tavern consisted of one fairly small room. A bar stood along one wall with a few stools, most of which were occupied. Along the other walls were chairs with tables and small sofas. Not wanting anything to drink, Patrick walked over to an unoccupied sofa. It was covered in red velvet that had seen better days, but it was still comfortable enough.

Sitting back, Patrick gazed around the room. As he inhaled, he smelled the strong scent of cigar smoke. Laughter and the clink of glasses filled his ears, a cacophony of noises both overwhelming and welcoming after a long day. His gaze roamed around the room and was caught by a red glow. In an alcove opposite him, Patrick saw a jade statue of Buddha. It glowed softly in the red light.

It was a symbol of a different religion, a different way of life. During his time with the clergy, Patrick had been told never to trust other religions. God was the only god and man was too flawed to believe in himself and find enlightenment.

Those thoughts brought Patrick back to a place that he didn’t really want to go, so he resumed his scan of the tavern. He noticed a pretty girl leaning against the bar, casually flirting with a man sitting on one of the stools. From her skimpy clothing and the fact that she carried no purse, Patrick figured she might be a prostitute. Those types of people were condemned in the church. But as he sat there watching her, he realized that many of these women would not willingly sell themselves unless they saw no other alternative. One had to live somehow, right?

A loud belch rang through the room, followed by an increase in laughter. Looking over to a corner of the room where a group of men were sitting at a table, Patrick saw a man in a pinstripe suit grinning, obviously not embarrassed at having just belched. The man had such a strong air of confidence that Patrick envied his self-assurance.

*                                                          *                                                          *

Back when Patrick had been a freshman in college, he had been the loner type. He had never been one to go out partying, and he never drank alcohol before he turned twenty-one. Most of his classmates didn’t like him and thought he was a stuck-up prude. They largely ignored Patrick, isolating him. The one time he had worked up the nerve to ask a girl out, she had laughed in his face. This estrangement and humiliation from his peers made Patrick doubt himself and his self-esteem dropped very low during that time. He thought that if no one liked him, or thought him at all likeable, then maybe he wasn’t.

It was this that had made him turn to God for answers. Patrick had sought for reasons why he had no friends, and why people were so cruel. His search proved to be in vain. The Bible held no answers for him, and his prayers were always ignored. No divine inspiration descended upon him, and Patrick began to doubt God’s existence. And, in turn, this doubt made him more aware of his own failings as a person.

By his senior year in college, Patrick still had very little self-confidence and his faith was reaching an all-time low. In his opinion, he had reached rock bottom and life was no longer worth living. Day-to-day life was excruciating and interactions with others were always a trial. At this point, he decided that life wasn’t worth it and that he couldn’t live with it anymore. On a cold January afternoon, utter desperation drove him to climb to the roof of the English building and stand on the icy ledge overlooking the quad. Students below gasped when they saw him, and one person had wits enough to call 911. The fire department and an ambulance arrived in a flurry of flashing lights and blaring sirens. Their arrival startled Patrick and almost caused him to lose his footing. A sharp scream rang through the throng as they saw him slip on the ledge, but he caught himself and stared uncomprehendingly at the emergency vehicles.   

He didn’t know what made him catch himself, except that he thought that tripping was the cowards way out of it. If he died like that, his peers would only revile him all the more, as too cowardly to jump properly. Besides, he was still not completely sure if jumping was worth it. It was all so confusing and his mind wasn’t making things any better.

In the end, it had taken the two firemen four tense hours to talk him down from the roof. After that horrible day, Patrick had been put on suicide watch and dosed with anti-depressants. This went on for a few months before the doctors felt that they could trust him not to do something so drastic again. Patrick went back to normal life with relief. He was not used to having people watching him all of the time. It made him very uncomfortable. But, after all of the drama, Patrick decided that ending his life wasn’t the answer. He needed to figure himself out. His life was so screwed up, he didn’t even know himself anymore.

Patrick didn’t know where else to turn but to the church, so he decided to finish college and join the priesthood. He took an extra semester of college and graduated with a degree in literature. Once he was done, he began the process of becoming a priest. He figured that the priests may have some other way of understanding God that the parishioners did not have. It had been a good idea and had sustained him through the years as he began to piece his life back together again.

A shadow crossed in front of Patrick, obscuring his vision and dragging him back into the present. He looked up to see the man in the pinstripe suit standing in front of him grinning. Up close, the man seemed very much like a gangster, and Patrick saw the handle of a holstered gun at the man’s shoulder where his jacket parted.

“You look like you could use a drink,” the man stated.

Patrick just stared at him. The man laughed and called over to the bar for a beer. Patrick continued to stare at the man, wondering why he would buy a drink for a complete stranger. It seemed so out of character for such a seemingly godless person.

As a waitress came over with the beer, the man took the drink from her and handed it to Patrick. With another smile, the man walked back to his seat. Patrick watched him for a moment before staring at the glass filled with a dark amber liquid. He had not touched the stuff in years, ever since he had become a priest. Ten years and now he sat with a glass of beer in his hands, in a tavern filled with low society and godless patrons.

A slight dip in the sofa caused Patrick to look at the empty seat to his left. Only, the seat wasn’t empty. The drunken man who had stumbled into the church was sitting next to Patrick, staring at him.

“Didn’t expect to see you here, priest,” the man said, smirking at Patrick.

Patrick looked at the drunkard for a moment before turning away, ignoring him. He had nothing to say to the man. Revenge for his current state seemed too petty, too beneath him. Patrick decided instead to return to his contemplation of the beer in his hands.

But, the drunk was not content to let Patrick ignore his existence. He moved to stand in front of Patrick and said, “You don’t know if there is a God, do you? You’re confused.” He stopped, waiting for Patrick to raise his head. When this didn’t happen, he continued. “Ashamed of yourself, are you? Well, you better be. Lying is wrong and you’ve been lying. Look at me, dammit!”

Patrick gritted his teeth. How dare this man, this drunk, tell him off, like he’d done something wrong? He’d only been trying to understand, he’d done nothing wrong. First the man had increased his doubt and disbelief, now he was making it worse. Patrick was sick of it. Without looking at him, Patrick threw his beer at the man. He took momentary satisfaction in hearing the splash of beer and the crash as the glass broke on the floor. Then he realized what he’d done and he looked up, horrified. Ready to stammer out an apology, Patrick looked at where the man was standing, but he wasn’t there. It was like he had vanished. There was no trace of his ever having been, except the broken glass on the floor. But, no one seemed to have been disturbed by the breaking glass, as if they hadn’t heard it. Patrick didn’t understand how this could be.

Confused and scared, Patrick felt the weight of the day crashing down upon him. He had questioned his faith, ended up in a tavern with sinners, and been harassed by a drunk man, intent on ruining his life. It was all too much. With a broken sob, Patrick buried his head in his hands, fingers pulling at his hair. He cried for the loss of his safe little world, where he could pretend to believe in something he didn’t know existed. He cried for the mistakes of his past. He cried for his failure to commit suicide all those years ago.

A dip in the sofa made Patrick aware of someone sitting next to him. Fearing it was the drunkard again, he lifted his head and turned to glare at the person. Through tear-stained eyes, Patrick saw that it wasn’t the drunk, it was the girl from the bar. She was looking at him with sad eyes. The girl raised her hand and gently patted Patrick’s shoulder. That single act of kindness brought him back from the brink of despair. He smiled weakly at the girl and murmured, “Thank you.” She simply smiled at him and left to resume her position at the bar. Patrick watched her go, thinking that she was the best thing that had happened to him all day. A little light had been brought back into his world of darkness when she had patted his shoulder.

He realized that life wasn’t all about believing or not believing in God. One could exist in the world without prescribing to one religion or another. And, not practicing religion did not mean that one lost all one’s morals. Kindness could be found in a world without God. He didn’t need to depend on anyone but himself, and he was not a weak creature that could not take care of himself. He did not need other people’s good opinion to live.

Patrick felt a need to leave. He didn’t need the tavern anymore. It had served its purpose and now he could move on. But, before that could happen, he had some things to take care of. Walking over to the girl at the bar, Patrick pulled a twenty dollar bill out of his wallet and pressed it into her hand. He smiled at her and said, “Thank you.”

Then, he turned to the corner of the tavern where the gangster sat. This man had also been kind to him, but Patrick hadn’t been in a mood to fully accept it. Now he could appreciate this man more for his actions.

He reached the table and the gangster looked up at him. Patrick smiled and said, “I just wanted to thank you. Kindness has been hard to come by in my life.”

He didn’t wait for a reply. Instead, he turned and walked out of the tavern, into the crisp night. Taking in a deep breath, Patrick felt free, as he had never been before. It was amazing, and terrifying, but he was ready to face anything. He knew that it would take a while for him to fully understand what he had discovered that evening. He needed time to fully process everything and make sense of it. But, he was ready for the challenge of making his life better.

However, before he could go on with his life, there was one piece of business he had left hanging. Patrick started walking, knowing the man would find him. He didn’t know how he knew, it just made sense.

He hadn’t been walking for more than five minutes when he saw a figure waiting just outside the pool of light from a lamppost ahead of him. Patrick’s heart sped up. He wanted this confrontation over with, but he was afraid of what the man might say.

As Patrick stepped within the light of the lamppost, the man spoke.

“Figured some things out, have you?”

“Yes. And I have you to thank for it,” Patrick said.

The man’s eyebrows rose. “Me? I only nudged you along the path. You took the steps yourself. And, I must say, you have done very well.”

“How did you know?”

“How did I know what? That you were having problems with your life? That you weren’t really living? That you were confused and afraid, but repressing everything?” he asked.

“Yes, all of that. How did you know about me? Or was it chance?”

The man’s eyes glittered as he smiled. He took a step forward, so that he was standing in the light with Patrick.

“I always know when someone has a problem. It’s a gift of mine. Sometimes I can’t help them, sometimes I can. I wasn’t so sure how I could help you. You were so lost, so repressed. I didn’t think anything I could do would help.”

Patrick watched the man as he spoke. He seemed so sincere. Patrick began to regret how rude he had been to him.

“Well,” the man continued, “I did what I could. It seems that you were closer to breaking than I had thought. You might have figured this all out in time. But, I wanted you to live, and I didn’t know how long you could survive, living as you were.”

“So, you goaded me just to get me to realize that the life I was living wasn’t a life at all? That seems a bit strange.”

“Strange? I suppose you could look at it that way. But, it was the only way I could see helping you without telling you everything you needed to know. If I’d done that, then you probably wouldn’t have believed it. Trust me, everything I did was necessary.”

Patrick stood a moment, taking it all in. His life had never been stranger than it was at this moment. He didn’t know how someone could have a gift like this man claimed, but he was willing to believe it, just for the sake of not complicating his life any more than it was.

“Thank you,” Patrick said, sincerely. “I don’t think I could ever repay you.”

“Don’t mention it. Just doing my job,” said the man. He then walked off into the darkness, disappearing down the street.

Patrick stood for a moment before heading home. As he walked away, he smiled.