I don't know anything about the man and he knows nothing about me, other than the fact he suspects I want to harm his child. He was Korean and my only previous encounter with a Korean was at a dinner party with a divorcee who told me that the North Koreans invented the seedless water melon. So my knowledge of all things Korean is limited and to date, not very positive.
But as I drove back through the park, pissed off that I was pissed off, I felt this is the problem I have with church goers. And actually the whole experience of going to church. As a child I went to church and believed (and still do) in God, and naively felt those involved with the church are somehow wiser with all their learning and compassion. The Father at this church is a lovely interesting, intelligent, funny, compassionate man but I feel much of that stems from the fact that this is innately what he is and who he is, and less stems from the fact he is connected in any way to a Church.
I expect church goers to be somewhat wiser, more at peace with themselves than the rest of us, but the ones I've met, and it's always the most zealous ones, are usually the most sanctimonious, self validating sinners on the planet. They pray for their sins to be taken away totally unprepared to do anything about it themselves, as though by sitting down and putting their hands together will take all the crap away, after all, that's what they've been told. Point is, it doesn't. God may forgive them, which is what matters, but it doesn't stop them being obnoxious arseholes and I would like sermons one day to shoot from the hip and not call the congregation 'sinners' but 'arseholes'. That would wake them up. Calling it sinning makes being an arsehole acceptable. You have to be more self aware than that and I don't think the church, any church, teaches self awareness, it teaches dependence and disempowers those who are already afraid and needy. And it enables arseholes to continue to think being that way is OK.
The lovely Father followed me to my car and thanked me for not stabbing the man, (it hadn't entered my head) or telling him to eff off, (too close to the church) and I admit I was on a high from people liking the paintings and enjoying the cakes and sunshine and then this sanctimonious arsehole burst the bubble with the knives. Perhaps God was punishing me for not attending the Mass. Perhaps I should have urged the women, despite the fact they were busy to put the knives away. Perhaps I would have done the same as him (I wouldn't. I would have just put the knives away, knowing that no one would have done it on purpose, and thankful no one got hurt.) Whatever, the knives burst the balloon and I drove away a little less of the day and the sunshine. I suspect he was a banker.