Radical Roomate

Radical Roomate ©
(published in November 2003 issue of Insight Magazine)

   As I put my key into the lock I looked up at the nametag on the door. Right next to my name was the name of my roommate, Mario. Hmmm, I thought, must be Italian. I opened my door and began to unload my box of stuff.
        My first time away from home, I was excited to begin my college adventure. My high school days were fairly empty socially. I never went to a prom or had a girlfriend. I solaced myself with the thought that my real life would start once I got to college. “College will be the best days of your life,” I had been told.
   “The friends you make in college will be the best friends you will ever have,” was another phrase I heard often.
        As I was unloading my toothbrush and other essentials I wondered about so many things. I just hope my roommate isn’t some really weird guy or anything. Just then, I heard someone clear his throat behind me. “Hi, my name is Mario.”
        There before me was my roommate. About five foot five, stocky and African-American. “Hi, I’m Ken,” I replied. Mario entered the room with his own box of stuff. We talked and got to know each other as we unloaded our college belongings in our respective sides of the room.
        Well, he seems nice enough. I just hope he doesn’t snore.
        We finished unpacking and went downstairs to enjoy our first dormitory meal together.
        For the next few months I got to know Mario very well. He was extremely soft spoken, intelligent, very methodical, and he didn’t snore. As both of us were away from home for the first time, we talked till late at night very often. I learned about his inner-city upbringing and that he knew some karate and loved to lift weights. Whereas I had a church background, Mario had none. I felt morally superior.
        One morning I learned something else about Mario. He had a temper. As I was entering the dormitory floor bathroom I went to brush my teeth. Over by the other sinks Mario was speaking to Joe. As I began my morning routine I noticed that Mario seemed agitated. I looked up and saw the look of fear on Joe’s face.
        “Take off your glasses,” Mario said firmly. Mario was so soft spoken you could hardly tell he was angry.
        “No, I don’t think I’m going to do that,” Joe replied sheepishly.
        “This is not right!” Mario began to raise his voice. “Take off your glasses so I can hit you.”
        “Umm, I don’t want to,” Joe continued.
        “Hey, Mario. What’s going on?” I interrupted.
        “He won’t take off his glasses. He needs to take off his glasses so I can hit him.” Mario replied in a controlled but obviously angry tone.
        Little by little I talked to Mario and eventually got him to relent. Joe scurried out of the bathroom and my own feeling of moral superiority over Mario increased
        Several weeks later, Mario changed. I would come into our room and find him sitting at his desk, reading the Bible. This surprised me. I knew Mario had next to no church background. I, on the other hand, went to church every week. But I never read my Bible. I had one. As I packed to leave home, I stuck one in my box of stuff. It was a comfort knowing it was with me, but I never actually read it. Now here in front of me was my temper challenged roommate, reading a Bible.
        During the following months Mario tried to share with me his newfound faith in Christ. I became very indignant. Who does Mario think he is all of sudden, I thought. He just starts reading his Bible and going to church, while I’ve been going to church all my life! This just didn’t make sense to me.
        One Saturday morning Mario and I had a conversation that I will never forget. Sitting in our dormitory room, Mario asked me, “So you think you are a Christian?”
        “Of course, I’ve been going to church all my life,” I answered smugly.
        “Ok, then. Answer me this. If someone came to the door and pointed a gun at your head and asked if you believed in God, what would you say? Knowing of course, that if you answered yes, he would shoot you.”
        This was a tough question. I thought for awhile...and then ever so pleased with myself I said, “That’s easy. I would say no. Then I would wait till he went away and I would know that I’m still a Christian.”
        Mario just shook his head.
        “What? You don’t think that’s good enough? You think you have to be willing to die before you can call yourself a Christian? That’s crazy!” I exclaimed. Mario didn’t answer me.

       Weeks passed and I didn’t talk to him about much of anything anymore. Our relationship was cordial on the surface, but behind his back I ridiculed him. Some of my other friends and I would mock him with special names. Names we thought were very funny, names that made fun of his mannerisms or his personality. As we laughed at him, thinking ourselves very creative, we would grab onto a temporary feeling of superiority and rightness. But as soon as we went back to our respective dorm rooms, within seconds of leaving the group, all those feelings would disappear. Instead the haunting feeling that no matter how much my friends and I agreed that Mario was wrong, he wasn’t.
       One day as I was walking down the main hallway to the cafeteria, I saw Mario walking ahead of me, alone. Then I saw Joe coming out of the cafeteria about to pass by Mario. Mario stopped and the two talked. I was too far away to hear what they were talking about, but I flashed back to the day Mario wanted to beat Joe up in the bathroom. A flash of moral superiority popped into my brain.
     Mario finished his brief conversation with Joe before I walked up. Joe looked stunned. Joe took a couple of steps and saw me.
“What’s with your roommate Ken?” he asked with amazement in his voice.
“What? Does he want to beat you up again?” I asked.
“No, not at all,” he said, still obviously dazed.
“Then what did he say to you?” I queried.
“You remember that day in the bathroom. That day when he wanted to hit me?” Joe began.
“Yes, I remember,” I said cautiously.
“He apologized.”
“What?” I asked, incredulously.
“He said he was sorry.” Joe looked off and began walking away.

I continued walking into the cafeteria. I looked the same on the outside, but something had broken inside of me. In that moment, hearing those words, I knew that Mario had something inarguably real. I knew that no matter how much I made fun of Mario, no matter how much I wanted to discount what he believed, I couldn’t anymore. His courage to tell me I was wrong and back it up with the proof of his actions changed my life forever.