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'Yes, we are together'
By Michael Coren
March 25, 2010
Michael Coren
An Easter story. It was 15 years ago now and I have never forgotten it. A street corner in downtown Toronto and as I wait to cross the road a homeless man approaches me, his body trembling.
“Could you, could you spare some money?” I turn round to answer him and the very gesture makes him shrink back further into his hiding place. I ask if he is hungry.
“Could you, could you spare some money?” I turn round to answer him and the very gesture makes him shrink back further into his hiding place. I ask if he is hungry.
Of course he is. His broken body is little more than a coated skeleton. I tell him I’ll buy him some food, and begin to walk to the store a few yards away.
As I walk I realize that he is following me, a yard behind, like some ancient servant in an archaic culture. He follows because he doesn’t trust me. People lie to him all the time.
As he walks he shakes and chatters. And stinks. The sickening odour of urine, muck and decay. The cologne I am wearing probably cost more money that he will see in a lifetime. I’m uncomfortable, embarrassed. Don’t know what to say, what to do. People are looking around when they smell him, and they’re looking at me.
We walk into the store. Me with good clothes and good job. Him with ripped pants and nothing.
I take some milk and peanuts, any food that looks vaguely nourishing. I walk to the counter. He follows. I put the goods down and wait to pay.
The woman working in the store looks concerned. There is a can of deodorant underneath the corner, used after street people come into the store so as to expunge the smell. I don’t blame her. I’d probably do the same. She looks at me. Then at him. Then at me. Then again at him. She seems bewildered, even nervous. A pause, and then:
“Are you two, are you, are you together? Are you together?” She was asking, of course, if I was paying for this man who looked as though he had not seen money in a very long time.
Were we together? Was I together with this man? A very sensible and easy question.
It seemed to take an eternity for the question to register. Only a second of course. But it was as if the whole world and all of its possibilities suddenly flushed and flashed though my mind. I steadied myself.
“Yes,” I said. “We are together.”
And that was it. I have never seen him again and don’t know what eventually happened to him. Don’t know whether he is now dead or alive. Frankly, it could be the former. But I do know that the day will come when I will stand, broken, smashed and stinking. The stench will be my own sin. The question will be asked, “Are you two together?” Because of Jesus Christ, whose death and resurrection we are about to commemorate, because of my certainty that He lived, died and rose again for me and for all of us, the question will be in the affirmative. “Yes,” He will say. “Yes, we are together.” And I will have eternal happiness with my father in heaven.
I have told this story before and each time I do there is someone who has had a similar experience where the extraordinary has torn through daily banality and reminded us of what matters. As the media once again tell the most blatant lies about the Pope and even about the man’s poor brother, as the teachings of the church are misrepresented and then mocked and as Christ is dismissed as irrelevant, we need all of our stories, gifts, abilities and learning to tell the most important truth in the world.
I wish I had tried to properly help that man who asked merely for some food, wish I had changed his life in some meaningful way. Probably, though, just my pride and guilt speaking. I think I failed as a follower of Christ but not as a believer in Him.
The world begins anew each Easter and we can start anew our walk with Him and our relationship with God, His church and those who need our help.
Are we together? Yes. Have a blessed Easter.
As I walk I realize that he is following me, a yard behind, like some ancient servant in an archaic culture. He follows because he doesn’t trust me. People lie to him all the time.
As he walks he shakes and chatters. And stinks. The sickening odour of urine, muck and decay. The cologne I am wearing probably cost more money that he will see in a lifetime. I’m uncomfortable, embarrassed. Don’t know what to say, what to do. People are looking around when they smell him, and they’re looking at me.
We walk into the store. Me with good clothes and good job. Him with ripped pants and nothing.
I take some milk and peanuts, any food that looks vaguely nourishing. I walk to the counter. He follows. I put the goods down and wait to pay.
The woman working in the store looks concerned. There is a can of deodorant underneath the corner, used after street people come into the store so as to expunge the smell. I don’t blame her. I’d probably do the same. She looks at me. Then at him. Then at me. Then again at him. She seems bewildered, even nervous. A pause, and then:
“Are you two, are you, are you together? Are you together?” She was asking, of course, if I was paying for this man who looked as though he had not seen money in a very long time.
Were we together? Was I together with this man? A very sensible and easy question.
It seemed to take an eternity for the question to register. Only a second of course. But it was as if the whole world and all of its possibilities suddenly flushed and flashed though my mind. I steadied myself.
“Yes,” I said. “We are together.”
And that was it. I have never seen him again and don’t know what eventually happened to him. Don’t know whether he is now dead or alive. Frankly, it could be the former. But I do know that the day will come when I will stand, broken, smashed and stinking. The stench will be my own sin. The question will be asked, “Are you two together?” Because of Jesus Christ, whose death and resurrection we are about to commemorate, because of my certainty that He lived, died and rose again for me and for all of us, the question will be in the affirmative. “Yes,” He will say. “Yes, we are together.” And I will have eternal happiness with my father in heaven.
I have told this story before and each time I do there is someone who has had a similar experience where the extraordinary has torn through daily banality and reminded us of what matters. As the media once again tell the most blatant lies about the Pope and even about the man’s poor brother, as the teachings of the church are misrepresented and then mocked and as Christ is dismissed as irrelevant, we need all of our stories, gifts, abilities and learning to tell the most important truth in the world.
I wish I had tried to properly help that man who asked merely for some food, wish I had changed his life in some meaningful way. Probably, though, just my pride and guilt speaking. I think I failed as a follower of Christ but not as a believer in Him.
The world begins anew each Easter and we can start anew our walk with Him and our relationship with God, His church and those who need our help.
Are we together? Yes. Have a blessed Easter.
Michael Coren