Peace on the Street

I saw his bed first – a sleeping bag covered by a blue tarp outside a bus shelter on a busy Toronto corner, but it was neither sheltered nor private. A steady stream of people passed it on their way to the nearby offices, shops and hospitals, collars turned up against the cold. Descending the steps to the subway, I saw a man in the corridor, sitting on a Webster’s dictionary. Another similarly-sized tome rested on a bag beside him; whether to sit on or read, I didn’t yet know. He held a full cup of hot coffee in one hand; an empty coffee cup rested on the book, behind a handwritten sign that read, “My cup is empty without you.”

I put the change I keep handy for such encounters into his hand, looked into his eyes, and asked, “How are you?”

“Good,” he replied, “I just got a bite. How are you?”

“OK,” I answered, although I was on my way home from a doctor's appointment.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Carole.”

“Hi, I’m Warren. Pleasure’s all mine,” extending his hand.

Good to meet you,” I replied, shaking it firmly.

“Have we met before?” he asked.

“I don’t think so,” I answered.

“Sorry about the eye,” he said, “I have a detached retina. I’m waiting for surgery. I got into a fight and got hit in the head with a bottle. It broke a blood vessel. I’m going to press charges. I see the man at College and Spadina sometimes yelling at people. He asked me to drop the charges, but he’s got 70 convictions. He doesn’t deserve to be in society.”

“He must be hurting,” I answered. “Maybe you can suggest that he take the Alternatives to Violence Program to the officer at court – it’s really good.” I’d been at a workshop demonstrating their processes the day before, and they worked in prisons.

“My father taught me to be respectful,” Warren said. “Some friends convinced me to steal when I was 10. When Dad found out, he taught me a hard lesson I never forgot. I never steal. My bag was stolen last night. All they got was three Bibles. Maybe they’ll find God.”

“That’s a positive way to look at it,” I commented.

 

“I like to keep positive,” Warren replied. “I read the Bible and exercise. I’m developing love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, humility and self-control – all the ‘ness’-es.” He pulled a notebook out of a tiny backpack and showed me the list. “Galatians 5:22,” he pointed out to me, written under the virtues. “I just got a new journal today. I had to start again. I’m writing my favourite verses down, then I’m going to write my story.”

He showed me three pages of verses, and explained why they touched him. One was 1 Corinthians 4:11 – “To this very hour we go hungry and thirsty, we are in rags, we are brutally treated, we are homeless.”

“Paul was homeless,” Warren explained about the author of that verse. I was touched at the empathy Warren could feel for the Apostle Paul, having suffered like him, whereas such suffering scared me.

Warren showed me Ephesians 4:28 – “Anyone who has been stealing must steal no longer, but must work, doing something useful with their own hands, that they may have something to share with those in need.” Warren explained that although he never stole, the verse encouraged him to work and be generous.

“If I earn $7 a night I’m happy,” he said. “I’m not expensive. It says that God will take care of you, like the sparrows which don’t worry, but eat every day.” Again, I noted how tangible that verse from Matthew 6 was to him. Another verse was about the transitory nature of suffering.

 

“You memorized all those verses?” I asked, impressed. Instead of answering, Warren sipped his coffee, then continued his train of thought. “I had a good upbringing, but no religious training. We were the only Jews in a small farming community. I just started reading the Bible. Someone gave me one last year. I read the New Testament in four months. Then I read Joshua. I’m working backwards. I’m saving the first five books of the Bible for the last.”

I learned that Warren was divorced, and that his two children lived with their mother. “My ex-wife had an affair. She had a son with the new man.” He didn’t share the circumstances that led from him being divorced to living on the street.

“There’s a good church called Sanctuary that cares for street-affected people,” I said. “When you’re reading the Bible, it’s good to have people to talk to, to discuss how to apply it to your life.”

“I know Sanctuary,” Warren exclaimed. “I used to live on Charles Street. Someone gave me an apartment there, but it was infested with bedbugs, so I had to leave. The only good thing about living there was discovering Sanctuary. I haven’t been there for years.” He’d also told me about his apartment on Augusta, revealing that his path to the street wasn’t direct.

“Visit Sanctuary again,” I suggested. “Ask them about their shop. It gives people who’ve been out of work for a while a foot back in the door.”[1]

 “I’d think I’d be good at that,” Warren said.

“You’re kind, sober, fit, skilled...I think you’re a good candidate for the shop,” I said.

“Thanks,” Warren answered, pleased. I knew he kept fit because Warren had shown me how he exercised. He did wall squats with his back pressed against the wall; when I tried, he praised my feeble efforts. Next, he demonstrated regular squats (we did three together), then incline pushups on the stairs. I didn’t try those, more to avoid touching the dirty stairs than to avoid the exertion.

Warren remembered another favourite passage, Matthew 27:52-53, and reached for his big Bible to show it to me (mystery solved). It described people who were “sleeping” arising with Jesus after his resurrection, then walking into Jerusalem. “I thought they were zombies at first, until I read somewhere else they were resurrected,” Warren said. “It’s great to have a dictionary – you can look up words you don’t understand. If you have a smartphone you can look it up,” Warren added, but of course he didn’t. Instead, he got extra weight-training opportunities by carrying around the large dictionary.

“Want to get a bite?” he finally asked, finishing his doughnut. We’d been talking for an hour, and the conversation wasn’t waning.

I hesitated, tempted, then answered, “I can’t tonight, but I’m really enjoying this conversation. How about lunch tomorrow?”

“I’ll be here,” he replied.

“Good,” I answered, then confided, “My biggest fear is quitting my job to do something more meaningful, then going broke, even losing my home.” I had confessed this fear at Bible study the night before, along with doubts that my job was right for me. I’d taken a leap of faith to pursue missions work years ago, and indeed had almost lost my house until I landed that job. The courage to quit seemed insurmountable unless God gave me a really clear sign, preferably sending the angel Gabriel to assure me it was God’s will.

“I used to have a great job, but I’m happier now,” Warren said. “It was so stressful it gave me heart problems.”

“Wow! You’re really inspiring!” I told Warren. Someone with nothing except a sleeping bag, Bible and dictionary had just told me that life on the street was preferable to a stressful job. I was worried that job stress had precipitated my visit to the doctor, and it wasn’t over a small issue. Was Warren my angel Gabriel?

 

 We confirmed our date for the next day, then Warren gave me a hug. I hugged him back solidly, then kept a hand on his arm while I prayed for protection, provision, and a transformed life for this beloved child of God – perhaps through Sanctuary.

“Are you sure we haven’t met before?” Warren asked again as I prepared to leave.

“No,” I answered, “but I think God’s Spirit in us helped us recognize each other.” I was sure that God had arranged our “divine appointment.” I pulled two bills out of my wallet and put them in his hand. Now that we were friends, I wanted to bless him with more than kind words and a dollar.

It was raining when I arrived for our lunch meeting the next day; overnight, the rain would turn to snow. The bedroll was tarped, but as I descended the steps, I realized the panhandler in Warren’s spot wasn’t him. I returned upstairs, knelt down and called Warren’s name; there was no response. I retreated under the bus shelter for protection from the rain, rummaged to find paper and a pen in my purse, and wrote a soggy note. I returned outside, put a hand on what appeared to be Warren’s shoulder, and called again. I didn’t want him to wake up later, hungry and alone, having missed our lunch. I put some change and the note in a plastic shopping bag, and put it under his new “cup” – a metal plant pot – that would keep it dry and weighed down until he woke up. I continued to my follow-up doctor’s appointment.

I didn’t find Warren upon my return, but after a doctor’s appointment on another day, I asked him to suggest a nearby restaurant where we could enjoy our anticipated lunch. I followed him into the nearby Tim Horton’s, and we ordered our meals. As soon as a table became vacant, we sat down to talk. Over coffee and sandwiches, Warren told me about the time he scored the winning goal of an outdoor hockey game when he was a child. He saw a similar scene in a video years later, which he thought he'd inspired. When I happened to the see the touching video months later, I smiled, thinking of Warren.

The next time we met, he told me he had good news – he had gotten an apartment in east Toronto, and would be moving in the next month.

When I pass the corner where his bedroll used to be, I wonder how he is. I would like to tell him that I found the courage to quit my job to work in a conflict zone. Now I freelance to invest more time in peace education. Maybe Warren’s courage, and demonstration of God’s daily provision, gave me the strength to take that leap of faith.

Whether I see Warren again or not, I know that God will never cease keeping his eyes on his beloved child, who is more precious to him than many sparrows (Matthew 10:29-31).

 

“Blessed is he who considers the poor; The LORD will deliver him in time of trouble. The LORD will preserve him and keep him alive, And he will be blessed on the earth; You will not deliver him to the will of his enemies. The LORD will strengthen him on his bed of illness; You will sustain him on his sickbed.” Psalm 41:1-3, The Bible (New King James Version)

 

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[1] The shop has since closed. Many of the staff that they trained got new jobs.

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