#45 - Alexamenos Graffito

Alexander first appeared in the Memory Garden on a Tuesday morning, just as members of the ladies’ group were arriving for their twice-weekly Aerobics meeting. Because no one else seemed willing to do anything about it, Thelma Lewis decided to at least alert the Preacher of the possibly undesirable guest she’d spotted on the church’s west lawn as she’d pulled into the parking lot.

“He’s an elderly gentleman.” Thelma told Immanuel’s secretary, Lucy Higgs. “He’s just sitting out there in the garden.”

“Did anyone say anything to him?” Lucy asked. She was writing on a small yellow notepad.

“I don’t believe so. That sounds like a better job for the police.” Thelma said.

“Hopefully that won’t be necessary. He’s not causing any harm, so we’ll just let him sit for a while. If he’s still there when Pastor Rob gets back, we’ll see what he wants to do about it.” Lucy said, smiling reassuringly from across her desk.

“He’s wearing funny clothes.” Thelma added.

Lucy nodded and wrote again on her notepad. “I’ll be sure to let him know.” She said.

Thelma returned to the aerobics class in the church’s gymnasium. An hour later, Pastor Rob arrived at the church office. He paused in front of Lucy, fished a red and white starlight mint from a crystal bowl she kept on the corner of the desk, and asked, “Any messages?”

“No calls.” She said, reaching for her yellow pad. “But did you by any chance see an elderly man sitting out in the Memory Garden just now?”

“No, can’t say I did.”

“He may have wandered off.” Lucy said. “Thelma Lewis was in here earlier and said she’d seen an old man sitting out there wearing funny clothes.”

Pastor Rob popped the mint into his mouth. He thought for a moment, his eyes drifting upward toward the ceiling. “I wasn’t paying much attention, but I don’t think I saw anyone out there.”

He continued into his office. He dropped his leather satchel into an oversized armchair in one corner of the room and then walked back out into the reception area. “I’m going out to the Memory Garden to take a quick look. Just to be sure.” He said.

The Memory Garden was a small section of the church’s western lawn, landscaped with funds donated by the Lauren R. Wright family following her death the previous spring.  The garden consisted of a ring of tall Maiden Grass and Black-Eyed Susan’s circling a wooden park bench. Opposite the bench stood a cross hewed from rough lumber. Though it was intended as a quiet place to sit and reflect, Pastor Rob had never witnessed it being used for that purpose. Mostly, it was a favorite hiding place for kids after service had been let out on Sunday mornings. On occasion, Pastor Rob had found his own children hidden in the towering grass or swinging from the horizontal beam of the cross.

The man was still in the garden when Pastor Rob approached. He was a frail man, old and white-haired, and the funny clothes he was wearing appeared to be an olive drab military uniform. It hung loosely from his frame, adding to his feeble appearance. A matching hat rested beside him on the bench where he sat.

“Hello, sir.” Pastor Rob said. “Nice day, isn’t it?” He entered the garden, but allowed a comfortable distance between himself and the man.

“It is.” The man said.

Pastor Rob took a step toward him and extended his hand. “I’m the pastor here at Immanuel – Pastor Rob. Have you attended one of our services before?”

The man shook his head no, his eyes fixed on the cross. He didn’t shake Pastor Rob’s hand.

“May I ask your name?” Pastor Rob said.

“Alexander.” The man said.

Pastor Rob crouched down, the way he did when speaking to a child. “Sir, do you need help with anything?”

Alexander didn’t acknowledge the question. He stared straight ahead, his blue-veined hands resting in his narrow lap.

Pastor Rob stood up. “Well, if you do need any help, I’m right over there in the church office. You can find me there.” He pointed toward the main entrance. “I’m going back inside now. Good to meet you.”

When he arrived back at his office, Lucy was on the phone with someone giving out the church’s weekly schedule. Pastor Rob waited by her desk until she hung up the phone.

“He’s still out there.” He said.

“Yeah? Did you speak to him?” Lucy asked.

“Tried to. His name’s Alexander, but that’s about all I could get out of him.”

Lucy sighed. “Sad. He probably wandered over from Meadowlark.”

Pastor Rob took another starlight mint and headed into his office. “I’ll check on him in a while. If he’s still out there, I might have you call over there and see if they’re missing anybody.”

At four-thirty that afternoon, Lucy poked her head into his office. “I’m leaving. You’ve got the phone.” She said.

Pastor Rob nodded. “Have a good night.” He heard the office door close behind her, but only a few moments later, it opened again, and Lucy called out, “He’s gone, Pastor.”

“That’s good. Hopefully.” He said.

Pastor Rob didn’t think of Alexander again until the next afternoon when he reappeared in the Memory Garden. He was wearing the same uniform as the day before, his hat on the bench beside him. When Pastor Rob caught sight of him, the old man was again focused rigidly on the wooden cross. His posture implied he might be waiting for something.

Pastor Rob parked his car and walked across the lot and onto the west lawn. At the edge of the Memory Garden he said, “Alexander, how are you today?”

Alexander didn’t respond, but Pastor Rob expected that.

“You like this place, don’t you?” He asked. Again, there was no response. “I think that’s great. You’re the first person to ever use this little garden. They put it in here a while back, but up to yesterday, I hadn’t seen anyone take advantage of it.” Pastor Rob reached out and ran his hand across the silky tops of the Maiden Grass. “Anyway, you’re welcome to come here any time you want. And like I told you, if you need anything – really, anything – I’m just over in the church building.”

In the weeks that followed, one-sided conversations with Alexander became a daily ritual for Pastor Rob. Each day, the old man would appear in the Memory Garden and for several hours he would sit silently, his gaze fixed on the cross. Any time Pastor Rob saw him there, he would make it a point to go to him and say a few kind words. Awareness of this ritual began to spread through the church. On a Sunday morning, as Pastor Rob shook the hands of congregants leaving the sanctuary, Thelma Lewis stopped and asked, “Pastor Rob, how’s your friend Alexander?”

“He seems to be doing just fine. He’s definitely dependable.”

“Does he talk to you at all?” she said.

“No, he’s pretty quiet so far.” Pastor Rob said.

Curiosity about Alexander grew within the church. At potlucks and in Sunday school classrooms, he was a hot topic of discussion. There was speculation over where he had come from and why he made his daily visits to the Memory Garden. Curiosity grew until one day it spilled over into the community. On a Monday morning, Pastor Rob arrived at the church to find a reporter from the Palatine Patch waiting on the church lawn, a small recorder in one hand and a large camera in the other.

“Can I help you?” He asked. “I’m Pastor Rob. I’m the preacher here.”

The woman smiled politely. “Oh! I was hoping to meet you. I’m here to do a story on the elderly gentleman who’s been visiting the cross here each day.”

“Alexander.” Pastor Rob said.

“Right.” She said. “And I’ve heard that you’re the only one he’ll talk to, is that correct?”

Pastor Rob chuckled. “I wouldn’t say he talks to me. I do the talking. He did tell me his name, though.”

“Has he shared with you the reason he’s been visiting the-“ She looked at her notes, “-the Memory Garden?”

“No. Like I said, he doesn’t talk.” Pastor Rob said.

“Do you have any guesses?” The woman asked. She was extending the recording device toward him, like a microphone. This was making Pastor Rob nervous.

“I can’t say for sure, but my guess is he comes to pray. Meditate, sort of.”

The story ran two days later. The reporter had waited near the Memory Garden until Alexander had arrived that day. She snapped a few photos of him, but was unable to get a comment. When he left the garden, she had followed him back to a rent-controlled apartment complex on Lincoln Street, where she spoke to the manager. He knew very little about Alexander, but had plenty of his own opinions to share. In the end, the story printed was full of speculation regarding Alexander and his daily ritual, loaded with quotes from people who had only seen him a time or two and had very little new information to contribute.

Despite the fluffiness of the story, the day after it ran, spectators showed up in the church parking lot. They waited in their cars for Alexander to arrive, and when he did, they slowly approached the garden. Some took pictures. A few tried to speak with him. One teenage boy stepped behind the bench and posed with his fingers raised to create bunny-ears behind the old man’s head. The boy’s girlfriend snapped a photo using her phone. A mother and daughter arrived and stood together at the edge of the garden, staring at the cross as if, given enough time, they might be able to see whatever it was that Alexander was seeing. Some people were too timid to get close. They stood a long way off, at the edge of the church parking lot. A few people stayed for an hour or more, but most looked around a few minutes and then climbed back into their cars and drove off. One little girl asked Alexander for his autograph, but he ignored her.

Pastor Rob was surprised by the crowd the first day, but shocked when they continued to come, day after day. Young people were especially fascinated by Alexander. Palatine High School had an open-lunch period, and from noon until one o’clock each day, students would drive in and out of Immanuel’s parking lot, hooting and hollering at the old man. Some would park and eat hamburgers and listen to music with their windows down. Immanuel became the lunch hour hangout hotspot. The kids were constantly trying to outdo one another by striking bizarre poses with Alexander. Girls would pucker up and pretend to kiss him. Boys would put an arm around him and flash gang signs. All of this went completely unacknowledged by Alexander. No matter what happened in the garden, he never spoke a word.

Eventually, the congregation made the decision to block off the parking lot over lunch. The students had become a nuisance, leaving the lot littered with empty soda bottles and gum wrappers and crumpled and greasy to-go bags. Pastor Rob hated the idea of keeping the young people away from the church, but in the end, it was what most of the church members wanted.

On the Sunday morning following the decision, Pastor Rob was the first to arrive at Immanuel. He noticed the Maiden Grass first. It had been chopped down, the long stalks scattered around the lawn. The bench at the center of the Memory Garden had been turned over, and the cross, though not completely toppled, had been cracked lengthwise and twisted.

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To learn more about the Alexamenos Graffito, read the original Wikipedia article HERE.