A Stylite in New York

The traveler made his way up the darkened stairwell, careful not to disturb the layers of dust and cobwebs that had built up over the years. The building had been abandoned for years, probably even decades in fact. He had never so much as set foot inside this building before, and yet, it was as if he somehow knew his way. And so he carried on, curious to know about the strange figure who sat motionless atop the skyscraper each morning.

After what seemed like an eternity in the dark, with only his constant footsteps to keep him company, he finally arrived at the summit. Not quite certain of what to expect, he took a deep breath and hesitantly pushed open the door to the roof.

Despite years of disuse, there was little resistance. The door slid open quite easily. He was forced to shield his eyes as they once again became used to the light of day. It was noon and the sun was shining brightly over New York city that day. As his eyes got used to the sun once again, he could make out the figure, still standing there motionless. And yet this was no statue; it was a man - a living, breathing human being - that stood before him.

He was gaunt and rail thin, his body seemingly malnourished from starvation. His skin had taken on both the color and texture of leather from its long exposure to sun and wind, and his hair grew wild and uncut. A think beard covered his face. He was wearing nothing save for some tattered threads of clothing that barely covered his body. All of this together gave him the appearance of some wild man, fresh from the jungle.

And more disturbingly still, the traveler could see a series of scars that crisscrossed this strange figures body, some of which looked to be quite deep indeed. Yet he felt no fear from this figure, only a strange sort of fascination, perhaps even admiration.

For his part, the figure remained motionless save for a peaceful smile upon my face.

"Greetings, my brother pilgrim," he said to the traveler, "May the peace of God All Mighty be upon you."

There was no malice or judgement in his voice. No, instead his voice had a kindly, even reassuring tone to it, as if he felt genuine compassion for this stranger.

"Hello," the traveler replied somewhat unsure of what to say or ask, "I saw you up here and... I don't know, I just wanted to make sure everything was all right."

The old man, who still had not moved from his position, chuckled slightly.

"I am good," the bearded and nearly naked man replied, "By the grace of God, I am good. And I wish his blessings upon you, and all of the people on the earth below."

That was not exactly the response that the traveler was expecting to hear, to put it mildly.

"So you are praying then," the traveler asked.

"Yes," replied the mysterious stranger on the rooftop, "You could say that, after a fashion. I am giving praise unto God for all of mankind, all of Creation itself! I am giving myself to Him to show my love for you, and for all of existence!"

"But... I don't understand... you are saying that all of this is some sort of religious thing then? Are you a part of some sort of cult or something?"

Anyone else might have been tempted to shake their head, to make some sort of gesture to indicate 'no,' but this man was far too disciplined for that. He had stood there, motionless against the heat of the sun, the cold of winter, the battering of wind and rain, and the biting and stinging of insects. He was nigh unto a force of nature in and of himself, and he would not move for anything so trivial.

"No my Brother," said the strange man, "I claim membership amongst no cult, sect or denomination. I give of myself to all of Creation."

The traveler didn't understand this. It seemed to him that the strange and eccentric figure standing in front of him was speaking in cryptic riddles. Unsure of what to say next, he allowed a brief moment of blessed silence to wash over them both.

"However," the strange man continued after the brief pause, "I remember a time, perhaps not so very long ago, that I was once like you."

"What," the traveler asked, "I don't quite understand... who are you? Why are you doing all of this?"

"When I had a name," the mysterious figure began, "I was called Anthony... like the Saint. It is a good name, you know. It means 'flower' in ancient Greek."

"My parents gave it to me. They were Syrian Christian immigrants from Heleb, which you now called Aleppo, but they forgot most of their beliefs and customs when they came here. Instead, they raised me to be a businessman, like my father. Coming from nothing, he worked his way into real estate until he owned property all up and down the East Coast. I was to follow in his footsteps, and indeed, I did..."

"So what happened," the traveler asked him meekly.

"Actually," the unmoving man continued, "I was quite successful. Indeed, I quickly earned a reputation as a shrewd and ruthless businessman. Do you see the few threads that still cling to my body? Would you believe that this is all that remains of a $9,000 dollar designer suit? It is the only thing that I have worn for all of these years, and I have not taken it off since I began my prayers?"

"You've been wearing the same suit for years," the traveler exclaimed incredulously, "But surely you must take it off to sleep, or even use the rest room!"

"No," the wise man responded without any anger in his voice, "I no longer do either! I can't sleep because it would interfere with my prayers. And since I neither eat nor drink, I have no further need for defecation either."

"But if you don't eat, how can you sustain yourself," the traveler asked.

"Through faith," said the still motionless figure on the roof top, "You must have faith! The sun and wind and rain give me strength, the earth and trees and rocks sustain me. As long as I stand here, I am as one with all of the Lord God's Creation."

"I see," the traveler replied, "But what was it that made you take up such an extreme lifestyle."

"Nothing special," the man said.

The traveler was taken aback by this. He was expecting some grand kernel of enlightenment, some shocking, world-shattering revelation that would fill him with the same sense of spiritual destiny that this man seemed to have. And yet, all he was given were those two simple words - nothing special... nothing special.

"Enlightment simply came to me one day," he continued, "I was downtown and stopped over at this little hot dog stand in the park, of all places. It was there that I noticed all of it... the dew on the grass, insects happily chirping and going about their business, the sun shining down upon it all. It was there that I noticed everything that this world had trained me to tune out and ignore. Bare and in front of me..."

"At first, I thought that maybe I was going insane, but eventually I couldn't ignore it. And so, unsure of what else to do, I took off my shoes and stepped on the grass. Barefooted, I felt the dew and the moist soil beneath me. And it was in that moment that I realized how cut off from Creation I was... all of the bad things that I had done unto the world and my fellow man came back over me, indeed, threatened to consume and overwhelm me."

"Tell me," the strange mystic said to his guest, "Have you ever heard of the Stylites?"

The traveler shook his head.

"No," he said, "At least, I don't think so."

"It means 'Pillar Saint' in Greek," the man explained, "It was a type of asceticism that began with the first Christians in the East... Turkey, Syria, Palestine, Egypt, Russia... They would climb to the top of stone pillars where they would fast, flagellate themselves, and pray for the salvation of their souls."

"So all of this," asked the traveler, "The scars, the fasting, the prayers... its all about seeking penance then?"

"No," the cryptic figure calmly responded, "Nothing so vulgar. I simply turned to the God Y-W-H and asked Him for forgiveness, and I was forgiven. What I do up here is give of my infinite love and compassion for all of Creation. Nothing more, and nothing less..."

"So the point of all of this then," the traveler asked.

"Nothing special," the man said.

And then, he did something that the traveler didn't expect... he moved. He walked away from the edge of the skyscraper and sat down, Indian-style.

"Why don't you have a seat," he said to his now thoroughly baffled guest, "You don't look very comfortable standing up there."

"But," the traveler interjected, "What about all of those things you did to achieve enlightenment? You gave away all of your possessions, you fasted and cut yourself, you stood there for years..."

"Fifteen years," the man said as he smiled enigmatically.

"All of that for what," the traveler said, trying to make some sense of this all.

"Nothing special," the ragged figure sitting in front of him responded, "Just enlightenment. I had stood there alone for fifteen years, but it wasn't until you came by to ask me about it that I actually realized something... all of the extreme austerities that I had practiced... they were nothing more than a crutch."

"I didn't need them anymore," the wise man continued, "And so I have discarded them too..."

There was a brief pause as the wind blew a single dried leaf through the air between them. The traveler was beginning to become aware of the environment around them, all of the pigeons flapping about, and wind constantly blowing, and even the tiny mosses growing on the spaces between the concrete on the roof top.

And then, the pilgrim understood. And for that, he was Enlightened.

He sat down next to the ragged figure, a single tear streaming down his cheek, and he asked but one simple question.

"What do you want to eat?"

"Anything sounds good to me," the other man replied to him, "I haven't eaten in fifteen years, but first, I'd like a hair cut."

Mirth and laughter filled the air.