A Pocket Full of Coins

Dear Theophilous,

I used to be like pretty much everybody else. Whenever we would venture into downtown Toronto, I’d be on the lookout; making wide detours when needed; directing my son’s attention the other way.

Then something changed. I can really pinpoint a moment in time when it happened. It was more of a gradual process than an Epiphany experience. But somewhere along the line, my heart softened. I began to see the homeless as human, created in the image of God, and deserving of the dignity that entails.

I had often heard the old argument for not giving money to the homeless: They’ll just use it on drugs. But then I began to wonder, what if a few coins were all they had to get a meal for the day, or week even. I realized I could no longer ignore these poor souls.

My new resolution to do something firmly in mind made for an awkward encounter our next trip into the big city. Seeing a homeless man ahead, his up-turned hat on the sidewalk, I was ready to make good on my promise to help out, even if it was to be only a few small coins. Hand fumbling through my pocket, I soon realized that in our cashless society, I had nothing in my wallet but plastic and large bills. Sheepishly I walked by, avoiding eye contact as I had done so many times before.

I learned my lesson. Now I go prepared. Before any excursion into the city, whether it’s for a sporting event or dinner out, I pillage our spare change jar, making sure I have at least $10 to $20 in coins in my pocket - $1 to $2 for each person we might come across in our travels.

I will do this when we’re going out as a family, or if I’m heading to a sporting event as a friend. While others will circle around the homeless sitting on the sidewalk, I will walk by, dropping a couple coins in their hat or cup, look them in the eye and give them a short “God bless.”

The reaction I have gotten has ranged from silence to a mumbled “God bless you too.” To a thankful 6pm: “You’re the first one today.”

The reactions of friends and family have been initial fear and embarrassment, which slowly give way to a certain humbleness. My son will now even look for these opportunities when we foray into the city.

Still, I understand that some people are remain leery about giving cash to the homeless (no matter how small the amount). My brother-in-law and his family have found a great way around this quandary. Every so often they will descend into the heart of downtown with a mission in mind. They will buy a dozen or so hamburgers from a local fast-food chain (nothing fancy, just a simple burger) and hand those out to the people they come across on the street. A beautiful gesture that will fill a belly, at least for a day.

**Addendum**

Just last week we went to a junior hockey game in the town next to ours. We were with a service group that my son belongs to, so to give him his independence I passed him $20 and sat a few rows away. Throughout the game I watched him come and go, laughing with his friends; and as we walked out after the final buzzer his grin told me he had had a fantastic time. Making our way along the cold snowy streets to our car, he spotted a homeless man sitting on the corner, cup in hand, ignored by the throngs leaving the arena. Silently, without any prompting my son let his hand slip from mine and he walked over, digging the change out of his pocket to drop in the poor man’s cup.

Hell's Greatest Secret - Sins of Omission

Dear Theophilous,

It’s over 20 years ago, but it still haunts me like it was this morning. My wife (fiancée at the time) and I were visiting the priest who was going to marry us at St. Augustine’s Seminary in Toronto, where he was teaching. We were heading out to lunch, and as we drove down the long driveway we saw an older man off to the side of the road juggling shopping bags and trying to open a gate that was obviously stuck.

“Poor old guy,” Father commented from the back seat. I murmured agreement and continued to roll down the drive. Just as we were about to roll past where the older gent was still struggling with the gate Father piped up, “Stop the car!” He then proceeded to jump out and easily lift the gate so it could swing open. When he got back in the car, Father didn’t say a word, but I looked sheepishly forward, embarrassed that I had not stepped up to the plate when God had provided me with the opportunity.

My wife, Father and the old gentleman have probably all long forgotten the incident. For me, however, it still lingers in the recesses of my conscience.

I had sinned.

I hadn’t done anything wrong. I hadn’t broken any of the commandments. In fact, I hadn’t done anything at all. And that’s my point. By deliberately choosing to drive on by, I had committed a sin of omission.

Prattling off the Confiteor by rote each week, we probably don’t notice it, but we are reminded that the good we don’t do can be just as damning as the sins we wilfully commit:

I confess to Almighty God,

And to you, my bothers and sisters,

That I have sinned,

In my thoughts and in my words;

In what I have done, and in what I have failed to do.

Through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault…

Going into the confessional, it’s easy (kind of…) to list the sins we have committed. We have the 10 Commandments and the Beatitudes to guide our examination of conscience. I actually have an app that takes me through the process, gives me a check list of all my faults, which I then scratch in hieroglyphs onto a piece of paper so I don’t forget anything.

But what about sins of omission? How do we recognize what we have failed to do?

Do you look the other way when passing a hand stretched out for spare change?

Do you give up your seat on the bus?

Do you offer half a sandwich to the co-worker with no lunch?

Do you offer to carry a senior’s groceries to their car?

Do you defend the faith when someone slanders the Church?

Do you take a stand for life? Marriage?

Do you hold the door open, or let it close in someone’s face?

Do you say thank you when you receive?

Do you wave when someone lets you into traffic?

As long as the list of sins I’ve committed is long, I’d bet that my list of sins of omission is just as long, if not longer.

Satan must kill himself laughing each time he sees us ignore the chance to do God’s will. This is his greatest secret. Daily we’re offered a multitude of opportunities to do God’s will, yet we choose to turn the other way. Lucifer doesn’t even have to lift a finger, and we quietly turn from God towards him.

To combat this, I’ve tried to consciously change the tactics of my examination of conscience. Not only do I reflect on the sins I have committed, I try to pick out the moments when I have failed to do good in the world. I look for the opportunities God gave me to be a witness to His love in the world and I failed to rise to the challenge. I confess these shortcomings and resolve to do better in the future.

Roll up the Rim for Lent

Dear Theophilous,

There can be no virtue without temptation.

In his brilliance St. Augustine gave us many quotes, but lately this has become one of my favourites. Each time the notion to sin pops to mind, I silently whisper this mantra, and I feel my will strengthened. If I’m to be honest, though, there are times when I need to shout it to save myself.

In a similar vein, it has been an ongoing joke in our home over the years that we know when Lent has arrived, because it’s also time to Roll up the Rim to Win!

People from across Canada will understand the reference to the annual promotional event by the nation’s best-loved coffee shop (and cultural institution). Through February and March every year, Tim Hortons restaurants offer their clients the chance to win one of millions of prizes (ranging from free coffees and donuts to a free car) by simply looking under the rim of their throwaway paper cup.

The inside joke in our home is that this promotion always coincides with the penitential season of Lent – a time when Catholics are called to cut back and sacrifice as a way to prepare for Christ’s Passion and enjoin ourselves to His suffering on the Cross. Timmies seems set on derailing our efforts as our next up will be the big winner, and if it isn’t, at least we’ll be assuaged by the fact that we’ve won a free sweet.

What’s a poor, penitent Catholic who’s trying to cut back on their caffeine or calorie intake to do?

There is no virtue without temptation.

The suburban Catholic high school where I teach has come up with an ingenious way to take part in this yearly slice of Canadiana while still heeding Christ’s call to the Corporal Works of Mercy. There’s a basket in the main office for winning coffee cup rims, which are then donated to a local homeless shelter. Each week a dozen or so coffees and donuts go to those who need them most. In the years that the school has been collecting winning rims, no one has ever donated a car, but I’m sure the shelter would never say no to the winner keeping the car and making a cash donation of 10% of its worth.

If there isn’t such a basket at your workplace yet, dear Theophilous, I would challenge you to put one out. Not only would the excited water cooler chatter of who’s coffee was a winner continue, there would be the added joyful glow of know the winnings were going to those who need it while our Lenten sacrifices remain intact.

Planting Faith like Acorns

Dear Theophilous,

Some where during my French literature studies (either in high school or university), I was introduced to the short story L’homme qui plantait des arbres (The Man Who Planted Trees) by Jean Giono. For whatever reason, this story has stuck with me over the years, while so many others seem to have come and gone through my memory.

The story is of a young man who finds himself in the company of an old shepherd in an isolated corner of the southern French Alps. Suffering from years of drought, the local industry has dried up and the village has been deserted save for this one lonely figure and his flock. As he tends his sheep each day on the barren hillside, the shepherd plants a few acorns – only so many as he can carry in his pocket. Over the decades the acorns grow into saplings, and the saplings into a forest that brings life back to this hidden valley. As creation reclaims the barren wilderness, so too people return to the village, bringing life and laughter back to where there was once only the mournful whistling of the wind through the ruins.

This beautiful tale of life reclaiming death has followed me throughout the years. Recently, however, I have found my perspective of the story changing. Where I once identified with the young man hiking in the mountains; more and more I see myself as the old shepherd and this tale as an allegory for evangelization.

It’s no secret that those of us living in North America seem to be living in a desolate landscape when it comes to love of God. St. John Paul the Great even went so far as to describe western culture as a Culture of Death. Many who decry the world we live in would like to change it overnight – instantaneously creating a Culture of Life out of this Culture of Death by waving some magic wand. What we need, however, is the wisdom of the man who planted trees.

To bring life back to his hidden valley, the old shepherd did not bring in a a forest of mature trees to be planted. Nor did he pay the moving expenses for the 10,000 people to be relocated back to the village. Instead he planted a pocketful of acorns, day in and day out. The old shepherd knew he could not bring life back tot eh valley tomorrow, but he did have the foresight to know that if he slowly changed the landscape back from its barrenness, life would return on its own.

I am finding more often that I need to take this approach with my evangelization efforts. There is no way that on my own I can re-orient the world towards God overnight, but I can plant the seeds that will bring the Culture of Life back to this barren wilderness. Each day I search to plant one acorn in the soul of one person that I come into contact with. Over time, I pray, I hope this acorn of hope will grow over the decades into a mighty tree of faith. If even half of the acorns planted grow to maturity, a great forest of faith will begin to cover the landscape.

As this forest of faith grows and offers shady protection, life will eventually come back to the barren world we live in now.

Keeping the Commandments in Order



Dear Theophilus, 

The more I read and the more I sit back and watch the world go by, the more I come to realize that we’ve got our priorities backwards. By we I mean a generalization of those of us blessed enough to live in western society (Europe and North America); and by priorities I am referring to our Christian commandments. 

I know it’s never a wise thing to make sweeping generalizations, especially of such a large population base. There will always be exceptions to the rule. I also acknowledge the large gamut of experiences, opinions and actions of such a large group of people makes it impossible to shade them all with one colour, particularly when you get out to the fringes. Still, I think a little bit of self-reflection (myself included) would help bring things into greater focus when it comes to following the commandments in their proper order. 

When we think of God’s commandments, our minds usually jump to the image of Charleton Heston holding two stone tablets etched by the finger of God. As well, most of us can also recite from memory (in some form or another) the list from Exodus 20:1-17 

1.      You shall have no other gods before Me.

2.      You shall not worship idols.

3.      You shall not use the Lord’s name in vain.

4.      Keep the Sabbath holy.

5.      Honour your father and mother.

6.      You shall not murder.

7.      You shall not commit adultery.

8.      You shall not steal.

9.      You shall not bear false witness.

10.  You shall not covet your neighbour’s wife or goods.

As Christians, however, when we think of the commandments, we need to think of the commandments that Christ gave us. And for those who are like myself and have troubles with memorizing such a long list as was given to Moses, we’re all pretty happy that Jesus was able to summarize the Ten Commandments quite nicely in just two: 

You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the greatest and first commandment. And the second is like it: you shall love your neighbour as yourself. On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets. (Mt 22:37-40) 

Here is where my generalizing of western society starts to kick in. 

It’s been my experience that when we look at the Old Testament commandments, we have numbers 5 to 10 down pat; and when we come to the New Testament commandments, we seem to skip over the first and overuse the second. We seem to have forgotten numbers 1 to 4, or, according to Christ, the greatest commandment: You shall love the Lord your God. 

Love your neighbour as yourself or Treat others as you would want to be treated. It’s a common refrain that helps keep us from falling into complete anarchy. As a parent I try to drill this into my son’s psyche. As a teacher, I try to guide my students to live by this principle. As a society we use this mantra to keep everyone on the right track. But without the first commandment, it’s an empty philosophy without foundation. 

Don’t get me wrong, a lot of good gets done in the world because of this commandment. As Christian’s, however, we need to follow this second commandment out of commitment to the first. As numerous Catholic authors (such as Matthew Kelly, Peter Kreeft and George Weigel) have pointed out: if we love our neighbour without loving God first, then we become nothing more than an NGO, a charitable organization, or a branch of the government dedicated to helping others. 

As Christians, it’s only logical that Christ’s first commandment will flow into the second. If we truly love God, then of course we will love our neighbour whom He made in His own image.

The challenge is this, dear Theophilus, not to simply do good because it is good (most of us do this already), but to find ways of deepening our love for the Lord so that goodness can flow from that love. By right-ordering God’s commandments, by putting God first, our strength and commitment to do good as a witness to God in the world will grow exponentially.

Who is my Neighbour?



Dear Theophilus,

Earlier this week, as a part of my Religious Education course, I had the unique experience of taking a walk through downtown Toronto with Patrick Sullivan, who works out of the Sanctuary Mission. The point of the evening was to become more aware of life on the streets; what brings people to the street; and what they have to do to survive. Although I already had a naïve awareness of homelessness and prostitution in the big city, it was something I’ve preferred to let the more courageous deal with.

Having grown-up, lived and taught solely within the bubble that is called suburbia, I was really uneasy about how the evening would unfold. I knew I was going to be way out of my comfort zone, but I also knew it was going to be good for my spiritual growth – two things that I expressed to my course director a few days before the trip. He assured me I wasn’t going to be disappointed. And I wasn’t

As I approached the Sanctuary Mission doors there were two shirtless homeless men, obvious drunk or high or both, trying to hold each other up on the front steps. Sitting on the front steps my course director (and friend) was taking great delight in watching my discomfort in trying to figure out how to get in the door. As I put my foot on the bottom step, one of the two men swayed in my direction and threw his arms around me in a big hug. My course director was laughing too hard to take a picture, but I wish he had, because I’m sure the look on my face was priceless.

This was the beginning of an evening that would sow the seeds of transformation in my understanding of the humanity in homelessness.

Before walking the streets, we gathered as a group in the Sanctuary basement where Patrick asked us a profound question: “Who is my neighbour?” He reminded us of our calling in Christ’s commandments:

You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the greatest and the first commandment. And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbour as yourself. (Mt 22:37-39)

Once again Patrick asked us, “Who is my neighbour?” He then reiterated his point with the story of the Good Samaritan (Lk 10:25-37)

As I began to see the homeless not only as co-inhabitants of the city, but rather as my neighbour, the transformation of my understanding of their humanity continued.

Patrick then led the 50 or so of us through the streets of Toronto, stopping in various parks to explain how youth end up on the street at the age of as young as 11 years-old. He talked about their lives in abusive homes and their tales of survival through prostitution. As shocking as Patrick’s stories were, it was even sadder to realize that they were the truth. Not only was he telling the stories of friends he ministers to, he was also telling his own story.

My greatest revelation came towards the end of our walk when, standing in a park behind the “Y”, Patrick pointed at a luxury condo tower and ranted: “What really pisses me off is that the people who live in these $750,000 condos sit on their balconies and watch teenaged boys sell themselves for $10.” He was pointing right at the building my brother-in-law had lived in for 3 years and had just moved out of months ago. My son had played in the park where we were standing.

I realized then just how blind I can be to the misery around me.

Having met Patrick and heard his story and those of his friends transformed the way I perceive homelessness. These people are no longer shadows in a doorway or a lump in the bushes. They are people. People who are someone’s child, and another’s friend.

Does this mean I can give hugs freely to everyone I meet the next time I leave my bubble in suburbia. Probably not. It does mean that when I do see them I’ll see them for the person they are, and that I’ll pray that God gives them the strength and courage to be the best human they possibly can.

I will continue to ask myself: “Who is my neighbour?”

Advent Renewal of Faith and Works

Dear Theophilus,

Advent is a wonderful time of renewal. As the great feast of Christmas approaches, many people who have lost their way are moved to return to the Church. Captivated by the pageantry and mystery of the Word Incarnate they find their faith restored.

To our Protestant brethren who preach the philosophy of sole fide, this restored faith alone is enough to attain the Lord’s promised salvation. To support their errant doctrine, Protestants will inevitably turn to biblical sources:

But my just one shall live by faith ... (Heb. 10:38)

or

But without faith it is impossible to please him (God) ... (Heb. 11:6)

It is interesting that these quotes are taken in isolation from the rest of St. Paul’s letter to the Hebrews. The idea that St. Paul is trying to convey through his epistle is that faith is needed if one wants to approach God.

Much like the often quoted “Man shall not live by bread alone…” (Mt. 4:4), he cannot be saved by faith alone. The Lord tells us, and the Catholic Church teaches, that both faith and good works are the true path to salvation. As St. Paul tells us in his First Letter to the Corinthians:

And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. (1 Cor. 13:2)

As wonderful as the great faith renewal of Advent is, we need to couple it with good deeds if we really want to make ourselves worth of coming face to face with the Word Incarnate in the infant Jesus. It is not simply enough to start attending Mass regularly this Advent and Christmas season (although it’s a great start), this renewed faith must move us to the good works God calls us to do. It could be as small as holding the door for somebody or a small donation to the poor box. Over time you will find that both your faith and Christian good works growing in importance in your life.

This Advent season, how will you renew your faith and good works?