Have you ever had one of those days that you know you will remember forever? I had one just recently.
Two Men on a Train
I got on to the train late on Friday evening a few weeks ago, the day after Laudato Si’ had been released. Working in Catholic media as I do, I had already had the opportunity to read it in full (I love my job!) When I stepped on to the train, I didn’t go up or down the stairs, but sat in the handful of seats which face each other in the centre part of the carriage.
At the next stop, two men got on to the train. One was fairly well dressed – he was wearing a suit and a shirt, with a nice scarf around his neck. The other man was not. He was in paint-stained boots and grubby clothes, and his long beard, unkempt hair and dirty skin gave me the impression that he was one of our city’s many rough sleepers.
It didn’t appear that they knew each other, but they caught my attention at first because the well-dressed man was yelling at the shabbily-dressed man, and using an inordinate amount of profanity, even for that time of night!
Being on my own, I was not confident to stand up and intervene. But I stared at them intensely. I wanted the well-dressed man to know that I was taking everything in.
“F— the birds,” he was saying. “F— them! They’re nothing. They’re food and nothing else.”
The shabbily-dressed man looked over and said: “They’re not simply food. They are God’s creatures as well, and we should respect them.” “Just yesterday,” he continued, “the Pope was saying that we need to care for all of creation and not just worry about ourselves.”
Now I wasn’t just pretending to listen, they definitely had my attention.
Here was an apparently-homeless man citing an encyclical which had been released not 24 hours before to a complete stranger!
As their conversation continued, I came to understand why the well-dressed man had been yelling.
Shame and Charity
Before getting on to the train, the shabbily-dressed man had been rummaging through the rubbish bins on the train station. He had retrieved a discarded McDonald’s cup which was still filled with ice and had begun drinking it. He had also retrieved some food.
At this point, the well-dressed man had decided to confront the shabbily-dressed man, telling him that it was shameful for him to be going through garbage. It seems that the shabbily-dressed man had said he was collecting food which had been discarded so that he could feed birds with it.
This made the well-dressed man very upset. He thought it a crazy idea that a person would debase themselves to an extent where they would fish through rubbish for the sake of another creature.
He told the shabbily-dressed man that he had disgraced himself, that he was worthless, and that he (the well-dressed man) was better than the shabbily-dressed man “any day of the week.”
The shabbily-dressed man responded simply and charitably. He said that he did not mind what others, including the well-dressed man, thought about his appearance. He returned to the Pope’s words in Laudato Si’ about the tendency for people in the developed world to throw away too much, and said that it made sense for him to use the waste of some creatures for the benefit of others.
The conversation continued for about 20 minutes before the well-dressed man gave up and left for another part of the carriage.
Reflecting Our Actions
There were still a few minutes before my stop, and so I spoke to the shabbily-dressed man.
I told him that I had also read the Pope’s words, and that one of the things the Holy Father had said was the way we treat creation is reflected in the way we treat other human beings, and vice-versa. I commented that this was very clear in the discussion he was just having.
The man who thought birds were worthless treated a fellow human being as worthless as well. The man who had obvious love for God’s creation was able to treat another human person with respect, even as that same person was treating him with contempt. I thanked him for the example he had given to myself and others on the train, and did my best to affirm his dignity after it had been so brutally attacked.
Another passenger spoke up. He also commended the shabbily-dressed man on the way he handled himself. “I’m a teacher”, he said, “and I don’t know how you kept so calm in that situation.”
The shabbily-dressed man sat down on the floor of the train, seemingly exhausted. He thanked us for the kind words, explaining that he had already had a really hard day, and the cruelty of the man was quite hurtful.
Then he raised his head and gave us both a broad grin. “The Pope rocked yesterday, didn’t he?”
I heartily agreed.
I stood up to leave the train, and clasped his hand as I left.
If Jesus comes to us in disguise, I’m sure it was Him that I met on the train that Friday night. He demonstrated to all of us who were privy to the conversation that we must never judge another person’s heart by their appearance. He taught us that everyone – including the homeless and even including those who would deride them for sport – possess a dignity which needs to be upheld.
This article was originally printed in the Catholic Weekly, and is reposted here with permission.
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