Sunday 17th February 2008 LENT II

Ms Jill Harris, PR/Fundraiser : West London Day Centre

Genesis  12  :  1 – 4a  ; II  Timothy  1  :  8b – 10  Matthew  17 :  1 – 9

‘Now the Lord said to Abram, Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you. So Abram went as the Lord had told him.’

Yet it does seem that in losing the trappings of ‘normality’ there is for some people a greater freedom to engage with life. 

Lord, take my words and speak through them, take our minds and think through them, take our hearts and turn them again to your truth and healing light. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.

Some weeks ago I had the experience of being in a Harley Street waiting room. It was tastefully furnished, there were deep leather armchairs, copies of Country Life magazine and (even in these days when we are urged to reduce our carbon footprints) no less than six table lamps lit up around the room.

As I looked at my fellow patients, I saw the usual expressions of boredom and frustration – it was after all a waiting room, a space between other things happening. I thought I saw on some faces a look of entitlement – a distaste for waiting that perhaps occupied my face also. I couldn’t help comparing the scene with one I am more familiar with, West London Day Centre where I spend most of my working week. West London Day Centre works with homeless people a short distance down the road. St Cyprian’s has supported our work generously and consistently, and it’s a particular pleasure to be with you today.

The day centre is shabby (without being chic), it is untidy – wherever the furniture starts off it seems to transmute somewhere else. The colours are not too discordant, but although the centre is cleaned every day it seems always to be covered in a kind of haze of grey dust. There are certainly very few places coffee hasn’t been spilled.

But it was the difference in the faces that struck me most. At the day centre there are certainly some with attitude – the placing of a coat on a chair, or the way a request is phrased can trigger a full-scale conflict. Some people are demanding – ‘I’m in this situation and what are you going to do about it?’ they may say verbally or non verbally. Some faces are worried, some depressed, many have resignation written into them. When you have to wait for everything, from breakfast to the shower to the laundry to the loo, I guess you develop patience as a second skin. But – and this is the difference that struck me most – so many of the homeless people I have met have faces that are warm and engaging, open and ready for contact. Unlike the faces in the Harley Street waiting room very few faces wear an expression of entitlement.

It got me to thinking, why are homeless people so often open to contact, ready to smile and speak, whether they know you or not? Why is it so much easier to strike up a conversation in a homeless people’s day centre than, say during coffee after church, at a conference of professionals, or even at some social events? It’s a question I have often pondered, and it doesn’t seem so far removed from our Bible readings today.

They are all readings about encounter, about transcendence and immanence, the glory of God meeting ordinary people face to face.

‘Now the Lord said to Abram, Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you. So Abram went as the Lord had told him.’

God spoke to Abram, but Abram was able to hear. He was ready to respond. Was this borne out of a deep inner attentiveness that he had learned during his 75 years?

‘Jesus took with him Peter and James and John his brother, and led them up a high mountain by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun.’

Peter, James and John out of all the disciples were invited to witness Christ’s holiness. Was there something in them that made them ready to see the full scope of his radiance, ready to understand? This encounter was not offered to all the disciples on that day.

‘Share in suffering for the gospel by the power of God,’ says Paul to Timothy, ‘who saved  us and called us to a holy calling, because of his purpose and grace.’ A holy calling. It suggests that we too are invited into a relationship with the divine, that our lives are also bound up with sacredness. How can this be? Is there a way to move from the boredom and frustration of waiting into something more alive and vivid, where we know encounter has taken place?

What if anything has this got to do with homelessness?

I’d like to tell you about two homeless people I have got to know slightly.

One, I’ll call him Malcolm, discovered several years ago that, in his words, ‘my life was something less than I thought it should be.’ He was in a job that didn’t use his gifts, living a life that didn’t satisfy, and he decided not to tolerate it any longer. He did what he really wanted to do – packed his bag and took himself on a long walk round Portugal. For 18 months he slept under the stars, he walked along coastal paths and experienced an inner freedom he had not known before.

When he got back Malcolm kept on walking. He became homeless, took to the road, and is one of our regular users at West London Day Centre. He is well read, a thinker, an engaging and joyful individual. It is hard to meet Malcolm and not feel better for it.

It seems to me that in Malcolm you meet someone who is true to himself, who had the courage of his convictions and listened to his inner voice. He didn’t compromise, however unorthodox his life turned out to be. This strikes me, but what do know, as living close to the spirit of truth.

Another man I met recently I will call Geoffrey. Geoffrey became homeless late in life, in his 60s, no one was more surprised than him. After his wife died, he explained, he gradually lost his way. He lost his sense of purpose, he wasn’t coping, he lost his job and finally his home.

‘But do you know,’ said Geoffrey, ‘I’m sort of glad it happened. Does that sound strange? It’s as if I had to reach rock bottom to start coming up again.’ Through homelessness Geoffrey regained his faith in human nature. When I met him Geoffrey was about to move into his own flat, to make a new start. He was planning to do things differently this time, to make new friends and let people into his life. Perhaps it was admitting to himself and others the reality of his despair that was the beginning of change. Perhaps this kind of honesty, too, opens us up to the grace and purpose of God.

These two examples are not intended to make forced connections between homelessness and spirituality, or to claim that homeless people are readier than anyone else to encounter the divine in their lives. I do not want to minimise the pain, trauma and stress that homeless people experience, the sadness that accompanies so many on their journey, or the dangers of living on the streets. People come to the day centre in all sorts of conditions, men and women from this country and elsewhere, and it is our privilege to help people get on to a firmer footing in life, to find a place of greater security.

Yet it does seem that in losing the trappings of ‘normality’ there is for some people a greater freedom to engage with life. When you only have yourself to offer the world you can’t shelter behind possessions, status or responsibilities. There are fewer places to hide.

And I wonder whether that is a challenge to all of us. To find greater freedom by simplifying our lives. To attend to God by respecting our inner selves, perhaps like Malcolm having the courage to do or say what we need to do or say, or like Geoffrey to admit when we’re not really coping. Surely these simple things are difficult enough.

Perhaps attending to God will mean engaging with that person in front of us, or with the beauty of nature around us. It may mean looking for a spiritual director, someone who will help us to discern where God is for us right now. It will probably mean taking time to be quiet every day, to pray and listen for the still small voice.

Where this leads will be different for each of us. We may find that we want to review our activities, perhaps dropping some responsibilities or picking up new ones. We may want to leave things exactly as they are. For Christians it can be hard to let go of responsibility, we may feel we are indispensable to God’s purposes. Perhaps in this we must let homeless people show us the way.

Whatever steps we take, wherever they lead us, may we all find ourselves ready for the moments of encounter when they come.

‘Now the Lord said to Abram, Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you. So Abram went as the Lord had told him.’

Amen