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My family experienced a loss this week; a member of the family died. Not a human member, but a much-loved friend and companion...an adopted baby to my aunt and uncle, an older "brother" to my little cousin. Leo was Doberman in persuasion and gentle in nature. He used to back himself onto the sofa, sitting on it with his bum and hind legs, copying the humans. He worried over the baby and was a best friend to my aunt during a hard time in her life. He was that most honourable of creatures - Leo was a good dog. He will be greatly missed. Now cracks a noble heart. Good-night, sweet prince, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest! - Hamlet, Vii Amy came by St. Bart's today, meeting me for lunch after her interview for a stage managing job. The interview came about due to a recommendation from her current director. A lot of Amy's directors (and even actors) recommend her for work...she's a darn good SM. Anyhow, as we left the church we saw a guy standing around the corner from the office door. He's a regular at the breakfast ministry - the guy I mentioned in a previous post, who goes on and off his meds. He seemed to be off his meds today, a bit twitchy and...sneaky. It's hard to say specifically what he did that looked shifty, but shifty he did look. Well, one sneaky action is easy to identify. He grinned as we passed, and as soon as our backs were turned he quickly walked around the corner to the door we'd just left (and locked). So he's sneaky, but not clever. As Amy said, "Sir, we can see you." The door he was at (and doubtlessly trying to open) is not the strongest door on earth, and I'd left my laptop in the office. I knew we couldn't just leave. On the other hand, one doesn't want to be too obvious about the "No, I don't trust you as far as I can throw you" attitude. Besides, this fellow is adept at making his actions your fault, and I really didn't have time for a protracted scene. I decided to go knock on the rectory door, in plain sight of Sir Sneaks-a-Lot, and let him think what he wanted to about it. One of the anti-burglar benefits of knocking at the St. Bart's rectory door is the booming bark of Zach, Fr. W's enormous dog. Did I say dog? I meant bear. A grizzly bear disguised as a dog. WOOF! After a couple of barks our visitor decided that discretion was the better part of crime and beat his retreat...albeit a slow retreat, perhaps hoping we'd leave before him and allow his nefarious plans to proceed. (Do I get extra points for using the word "nefarious" in a sentence?) As he walked away (a block ahead of Amy and I as we headed to lunch) I wondered where he was going and what he'd wanted. "Pawnable goods" might be a good first guess, closely followed by "anything to sell or trade for drugs." But what he thought he'd find at a church-mouse poor downtown parish is beyond me. Maybe he knew I had a computer. Yikes. I guess that's all part of downtown ministry. The people you're there to help will often accept whatever ministry you're offering...and then steal your wallet on their way out the door. When it comes down to it you're just another mark, another source of easy cash/food/pawnable goods. You wonder if you're doing any good at all, or if you're just the means to another high or another pint. It's doubly frustrating because every theft and every con takes resources away from our ministry - one person's action takes food from other people, sometimes directly. Being a mark is a sad reality of urban ministry. The first reaction to that reality is usually to say, "Fine. You're going to treat me like that, I'll take my ball and go home." It's not about being appreciated or thanked; it's about not being hindered or harmed. It's an understandable, very human reaction...it's also not how Christ would have us react. As frustrating as it is, having to regard one's ministry field as a hostile environment, we just have to deal with it. It's also a reality of context; Regent Park is not an ideal world. This guy probably wouldn't be trying to break into the church if he wasn't under the control of some power - drugs, poverty, mental illness, whatever. Probably. Or perhaps he's just a jerk. They do exist - I do believe in evil. Maybe he's just someone who refuses to do the right thing, no matter how many chances life gives him. But probably not. Perhaps the hardest part of following Christ (or trying to) is to believe that this guy can answer his better angels while still knowing that he never will. As Our Lord instructs us, "See, I am sending you out like sheep into the midst of wolves; so be wise as serpents and innocent as doves." (Matthew 10:16) I find the dove part the hardest to achieve. |
