Speaking of hiding behind names, have you heard about the newest gang in town? “LHS” apparently is a new group of thugs hiding their criminal intent behind a label of “Loyalty - Honor - Secrecy.”
That's like slapping a “milk” label on a “javex” bottle. A virtuous gang? Are these guys for real? There is no honor in dealing crack and pimping girls. There may be a veneer of loyalty - until someone wants to get less jail time by ratting on a “brother.” As for secrecy - if I were the hapless member of such a misnamed crew, I'd want to keep it secret too.
I've met with, prayed with, done funerals and weddings, for folks in various gangs in Chicago, New York and Winnipeg. But always on one condition: their gang name means nothing to me. Adopting gang names are like putting a brand name on stupidity. I don't give a rip about gang colours or rags. I'll care about them as individuals - their name, their life, their kids, their parents - and that's all.
I'm not into gathering gang intelligence (an oxymoron). And I'm definitely not obsessed with knowing the hierarchy or inner workings of gangs.
Years ago, I remember talking to an older pastor who commented about the goofiness of some ministers who get preoccupied with the occult. “Some guys want to know too much about the demons, as if it would help to individually name them, blame them, claim them, and maim them. It's better to see these things as waste in a toilet. Don't study the stink too long. Flush the mess and get on with the necessary changes. Your spiritual power is dependant on your preoccupation with God, not with demons.”
I know gangs are real and I know they're dangerous. But I don't need any more “gang awareness.” I just want to be there for any gangster who gets tired and realizes it's no way to live or die or raise a family.
But gangs are not the only time we experience a tension between the label and the reality.
I remember my mom (and others) saying “I'll never buy a 'Dirt Devil' vacuum or a 'Spirit' car because I don't like the disrespectful marketing. The product may be good, but the marketing is so bad I don't want anything to do with it.”
Maybe it was the same thought that soured me to Mr. Bones pizza when they opened several years ago. I figured the pizza may be good, but I didn't like the marketing name or the skeleton figure on their boxes. So I didn't phone their number, visit their place, or eat their pizza.
Until last week.
We had several large crews of volunteers and workers helping on our renovation sites. The volunteers usually bring their own lunches, but sometimes they're a little short. A few of our regular workers were eating less due to extra expenses in their own lives.
In the midst of all this, we get a visit from the pizza guy across the street from one of our job sites. “I had a problem with a pizza customer and have a bunch of pizzas. If you can use them for your workers you could have them.”
The boxes were delivered free to the church - all in Mr. Bones boxes.
I know God has a sense of humour, and sometimes I know he takes pleasure in poking at my quirks and hypocrisies.
A few days later, walking on Ellice Avenue, I ran into Paul, the guy who runs the pizza place.
We talked a little about the neighbourhood, about business, about the weather. All the time I'm talking to him, I'm thinking, “He seems to be a real decent guy. I'm glad he's in the neighbourhood.”
And I felt a little guilty for never stopping in to see him before. Not because he gave us a few pizzas but because he seemed like a genuinely nice guy doing his best to make a living.
I thanked him for the good pizzas – they were greatly appreciated, and the timing couldn’t have been better.
Another week, another lesson: labels can be misleading.
You can save some money buying plain jeans.
You can help more people if you're not distracted by their gangster names.
And you can't judge the pizza guy by the box he carries.
Rev. Harry Lehotsky
514 Maryland Street
Winnipeg, Mb R3G 1M5
(204) 775-4929
lehotsky@escape.ca