Art is almost a medieval figure to me, he reminds me of the ancient monks I used to read about who trod the earth with anger and determination, seeking out heretics and infidels and challenging them to be saved.

Art and my friend Sandy and I are moving towards a weekly Tuesday gathering. Sandy is an Evangelic of great faith, but very different from Art, a fundamentalist looking for purity and strict adherence to the letter and spirit of the Bible.

Art and I joke all the time about what a pain in the ass he can be, he twinkles and laughs and tells me he loves me and will one day save me. Sandy is a listener Art trusts, she  and he can trade Bible verses and  stories and parables and lessons.

Art likes me, but I have not yet been saved, so we are in very different places.He always turns to Sandy and says “you know what I am  talking about,” I almost never do;

Today we talked about intimidation and vengeance, and it was a revealing and honest exchange. He told some of his blood-and-gory Bible stories of vengeance and retribution.

I asked to tell me why it is he needs to challenge people so forcefully. Art is a big and intimidating men, he can sometimes frighten people without his even knowing. He admits to alienating almost everyone in his life in pursuit of the purity of faith and the letter of scripture.

Sunday, Art went to a local church to see one of the Mansion residents get baptized. Art’s visits to churches can sometimes be fraught, he is often displeased by what he sees. He was upset because the preacher said that oil was once used for baptisms instead of water, and Art said that was not true. He was also angry because the preacher left out a warning about damnation and death for sinners.

The Mansion staff prevailed upon him to choose a different day to talk to the preacher, everyone was joyous over the baptism. (Art felt she should have been fully submerged, not just sprinkled with water, we pointed out that she needed a walker to move, and a total submersion would have been painful and impossible? Was God merciful, I wondered? No, said Art, not really.)

Art was still stirred up about it, I asked if it would help if I called the preacher and relay arts concerns. “That would be a great blessing,” he said. I will talk to the preacher sometime this week.

Art and I talked honestly about his need to challenge others, his own sense of himself as a “troublemaker.” He often complains about some of the staff and maintenance people at the Mansion, he says they don’t work hard enough and he should be allowed to oversee hiring.

Art’s outbursts are tempered with laughter and sly smiles, he is well aware of his role as an iconoclast and disruptor, he relishes it. Sandy is a wonderful listener, patient and encouraging. I am more challenging, I think it is what he sometimes wants and needs. She is a calming presence for him.

Art has revealed his true self to me, I don’t doubt his faith and conviction, but I also see the torn-up father who misses his children, and the lonely man seeking connection and purpose. At the edge of life, there is sometimes an urgent need for purpose, a desire to be heard.

I know Art can be an intimidating person, he is larger than life in many ways, as vibrant as he is in pain, I’m not sure the Mansion staff has ever seen anyone just like him. I am not put off or intimidated by Art, even though we both know we have little in common, and my faith is on the other side of the earth from his. I know not to be meek around Art, I don’t hide my feelings, as I would usually do in the Mansion.

Nor will I argue with him or seek to change  him, that’s not my purpose. I won’t take any stuff from him, either.

I have no interest in saving him, neither am I afraid of him. We are honest with each other.

Perhaps it is the reporter in me, I have seen it before, many, many times. I am glad people are beginning to see the meaning in helping Art, I feel it strongly. He needs help and compassion. He is a genius for pushing people away.

He is not the easiest person to help, nor does he always want to be helped. He is a fiercely proud man, but also an achingly vulnerable one.

We talked about his son, with whom i talked again last night, and Art was almost speechless with hope that he will call.

I was happy to see that the Mansion staff put a rug under his new recliner to keep it from sleeping. He enjoys it, he says, and with the carpet, he can even stand up without swaying, he said, with a wink and a smile.

Art teaches me to listen. He reminds me that I am no better or wiser than he is, and that human beings have a common connection that can transcend argument and  suspicion, even believe. Art and I never forget to laugh more than once during our talks. He needs to laugh, he has had a world of suffering in his life.

I asked him today if he needed anything else. He said next week, the eye doctor said he might be able to see normally with his new glasses. Art said he might be able to read books again, not just listen. What kinds of books?, I asked, my ears perking up.

“Bible stories, ” he said. Of course. Once his eyes are cleared I’ll round them up.

Somehow, there we are, grateful for one another, a quite unlikely friendship, each of us teaching the other (I hope) something about the world, making a connection through all of the division and conflict.

Art says God is at the table when we talk. I hope it’s true.

If you wish to write about faith, you can write to Art c/o The Mansion, 11 S. Union Avenue, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816.