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#443 – Dick Bernard: Homeless.

Sunday, September 25th, 2011

This morning, as usual, we went downstairs at our church for the usual coffee and donuts. (Our place is the Basilica of St. Mary’s at the near edge of downtown Minneapolis – it is a downtown parish – a place of diverse sorts of people.)

I got my coffee and donut and saw a lady sitting at a table by herself. “Mind if we join you?” I asked. “Fine”, she said. She was well-dressed, looking to be in later middle age, with what appeared to be a nice piece of luggage on one of those portable pull carts.

Making small talk, I said, “it looks like you’re traveling“. It was a somewhat obvious observation. We’re an easy and safe walk to the convention center, and the church gets lots of visitors.

Probably she had been to some conference, and was taking in Mass before catching a cab for the airport….

She didn’t respond to me. She finished her coffee, got up abruptly, and then very angrily said “if it makes any difference, I’m retired and I’m homeless.” Apparently there had been some court case in New York which she had lost. She stormed off to wherever, with no chance for us to say anything, as if she would have wanted us to say anything. There are times when less is best.

Two other people had joined us by then. It was a puzzling happening for all of us.

There is a “profile” of homeless. We see lots of homeless in this social gathering hall after Mass. But they LOOK like homeless are “supposed” to look. Yes, it’s a stereotype, but mostly these folks, mostly men, sometimes a few women, stand out from the usual crowd. This lady didn’t look homeless, not in the least. But apparently she was.

As I write, before noon on this same day, I’m just beginning to process what I just experienced.

In a surface sense, everything in our society, at this moment, looks sort of normal. Even with high unemployment, 91% of us are making a living (85% if you throw in the people who have given up on looking for work.)

It is easy to pretend that there is no underclass, inexorably increasing.

We’re in a family that is experiencing the creeping problem of unemployment within our own family circle. Makes it much harder NOT to notice….

Beyond the rhetoric, somewhere as I type, is this attractive well-dressed older woman pulling her luggage, and carrying a back pack.

It is certain she wasn’t being facetious.

What is her story, I wonder.

Where will she be tonight, this coming week, this winter, next year?

I think I know what I’ll be thinking about on this walk I’m about to take.

What lessons can be learned, and applied to our ever meaner society?

#330 – Dick Bernard: The Gospel According to Rasheed

Sunday, February 13th, 2011

Last Sunday, a visiting Pastor, Fr.Michael O’Connell, a man we greatly respect and admire, gave the homily, based, he said, on one of the readings for the day, Isaiah 58:7-10.

He had just returned from a three week January vacation in San Diego, a place a bit warmer than the Twin Cities, and he had had a pleasant time.

Michael is about my age, at the top of his career, highly respected by movers and shakers in this metropolitan area, but he is also one who has often spoke from the pulpit about the down times he has personally experienced. He walks the talk, from Isaiah “Share your bread with the hungry, shelter the oppressed and the homeless; clothe the naked when you see them, and do not turn your back on your own.

Where Peace and Justice is spoken, not far away is Father Michael O’Connell

But it’s not always easy, even for him, as he related last Sunday.

He had rented a car in San Diego, and stopped at an airport area gas station to fill the tank before returning the car. He had plenty of time. One of his quirks, he said, was that he can never remember his zip code, so he doesn’t use credit card in such situations: ordinarily, a zip code is required to validate the card.

Tank filled, he went into the store to pay the bill. It happened that somebody was in front of him, somebody pretty obviously homeless who had come in to buy lunch: standard junk food fare and a soda.

Michael had noted that the station was in an area that seemed to have quite a few homeless.

He waited, and waited and waited. The customer was digging through his pockets for change, pennies and such, and the clerk – who Michael noted to us was named “Rasheed” – was patiently counting the coins and stacking them until the customer had come up with enough spare change to pay for his lunch.

As noted earlier, Michael had a great plenty of time, but was feeling, and apparently looking, annoyed at the delay the homeless guy was causing. His impatience had overcome his sense of understanding and justice – two qualities I know he has in abundance.

Now it was Michael’s turn at the register.

Rasheed had apparently noticed Michael’s agitation, and had no idea who he was, much less that he was a man of the cloth, and just quietly said, “that guys a human, too, just like you and I“.

Nothing more needed to be said.

Chastened and reminded, Father Michael left, returned his car, caught his flight, came home…and shared with us the lesson of Rasheed in the gas station near the International Airport in San Diego.

A good reminder.