In the days before COVID-19, I often visited San Francisco. The views from the hilltops are breathtaking. The noise of the city speaks of life and vibrancy. The Bohemian city lurks under the shadows of the skyscrapers in a most enticing way. The museums and hidden art galleries are enough to excite, nurture, and transform the soul. The clanging of the Cable Cars and the screeching of the Streetcars are simply music to my ears. I long for the day when I can walk down the city streets savoring the aromas of the World’s kitchens. More than anything, I miss meeting the people in the streets.

 

I mean the people who live in the streets who find shelter in abandoned storefronts. I miss the people who wander around the city streets looking for food, cardboard, or something of value. It is sinful our friends have nowhere to live. It is shameful they are treated the way they are with mismanaged funds, indifference, if not scorn.  

 

As America fights its insane culture wars, the houseless suffer ill health, hunger, and exposure as the rich and powerful are subsidized. COVID-19 has emptied the skyscrapers as if the Divine is suggesting a new housing program for those with no roof but cardboard. 

 

But I digress. Please back to the streets. Above all, I miss my friends who ask me for help when I see them. On my way to a movie and dinner, I love it when someone asks if I might help. I long to hear the sacred words I wish no one ever had to say, “Can you spear some change? I’m hungry!” It breaks my heart. Why are our friends hungry in a city where food is more than abundant?

 

I remember one fine day walking through the Civic Center on my way to the Asian Museum. The air was the wonderful San Francisco cool. The city was alive with people going here and there. The coffee shops were serving debaters and gazers. The hustle and bustle spoke of vitality and energy. Then I heard a voice. The voice I now miss. “Pardon me, sir, but do you have anything to eat?” I looked deep into his eyes. I could see his hunger. I was starving to help. I wanted to set a table for all the World to feast on the bread of life and the joy of love. 

 

After we shared a sandwich, I thought he reminded me of someone. I searched my memory. His face was not familiar, but there was something about his voice. It was kind, calm, almost as if he were pronouncing a blessing. His words were strikingly familiar. Yet, I could not place him. My mind a blank.

 

Finally, I remembered what I too often forget. According to Luke 24: 35-48, the risen Jesus appears to the disciples saying: “Do you have anything to eat?” Jesus must still be hungry. I hear him wherever I walk the city streets. I long to hear him soon. I miss him. I hope no one will ever need to ask the question again.          

 

Thank you, Holy Community, for all the times you answered the Lord’s question with the yes of your bread and the affirmation of your compassion.