The congregation is sitting down, listening to the organ prelude. Some chat with each other but most file into their pews, ready for service to start. As the organist is coming to the last cadence, a man walks down the center aisle.

He must have entered at the front of the church, as he is holding a bulletin. He makes his way purposefully towards the back of the church, as some of the congregation turns to watch his path. No one knows this strange man. He is wearing a backpack and could be homeless. Or maybe that’s just what he looks like.

A rustle goes through the congregation as everyone thinks the same thing: a shooting happened in a church just last week.

The strange man with the backpack left as quickly as he came, inexplicably exiting through the back of the church. The rest of the people in the room share looks with their neighbors and breathe a somewhat grateful sigh of relief. Justified or unfounded, they all breathe a little easier when this stranger has left their midst.

But what makes him different from other strangers in the church? Visitors? After the service, while consuming brownies and coffee, members of the congregation express their concerns:

I didn’t know him. Did you?

Was it just me, or did something look off with his eyes?

Did you see if he stayed? Why did he come and go so quickly?

What could he have had in that backpack? Disconcerting.

Have we reached a new era of discrimination: fear of white men with backpacks? It wasn’t just me who was instinctively worried upon seeing that man. With the country experiencing shootings so frequently, and one mentioned in the prayers that very service, it’s difficult to dissuade fear from creeping into our everyday interactions. Like ink in water, it clouds our judgement and ability to show compassion to strangers.

Because the reality is a shooting could happen at any time in any part of this country. And we are powerless to stop it.

So maybe we should have showed compassion to that strange man, because if he came into our sanctuary to inflict pain, we wouldn’t have been able to do anything to stop it. I would rather my church stands compassionately in the face of destruction than closes its doors to strangers in need. I like to think that they win if we cower.

After all, in a world where safety can never be guaranteed, doesn’t it only come down to who wins and loses?