It was the August before my return to seminary after I had stepped away for a year and a half.
There I was, making my way to the barber shop I had been going to for the past 14 years on Nicollet Avenue in Minneapolis, also known as “Eat Street.” The weather could not have been any better: a bright blue sky, popcorn clouds, low humidity, slight breeze.
As I got out of my car and made my way out of the parking lot, I noticed across the street a familiar sight in this part of town: a nice couple seated, having lunch in front of a café engaged in conversation with a man, standing, who didn’t fit the picture. He was Black, with long dreadlocks, unkempt beard, cut-up jean shorts, brown boots, red backpack and a T-shirt that was either faded yellow or stained white. The couple waved him away. Turning his attention to my side of the street, our eyes locked and without hesitation, he made a beeline across traffic right toward me.
Before he could make his appeal, I blurted out in a rush, “I don’t have any money for you.” I was not lying. I had $20 and the barber shop only took cash. Certainly, I had money, but “not for you.” His response struck me in the heart: “I don’t want your money. I just want something to eat.”
Taken aback, confused and ashamed that I had assumed the worst of the man, not to mention my slight annoyance in delaying my plans, I quickly thought of a solution. My barber shop is located above a grocery store. “There’s an (Asian) store here. How about I buy you something to eat?” We both entered and not knowing what he liked, I grabbed something I would have enjoyed: a bag of shrimp chips and a bottle of coconut water. What happened next in the checkout line I attribute completely to the inspiration of the Holy Spirit.
“Do you go to church?” I asked. He turned to me in surprise, brushing away the question. “Yeah… my mom took us to church when I was little and we prayed.”
“How about I make you a deal,” I said. “You see, I am going back to seminary to become a Catholic priest. I buy you some food and you promise to pray for me.” I had no idea what sort of “deal” I was getting myself into.
“Yeah … yeah …,” he said. I didn’t believe him.
As we walked out of the store, I began to turn right, but he stopped me.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“I’m going to get my hair cut,” I said.
“You told me to pray for you right?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, how ‘bout we pray right now?”
“Right here?” I asked with shock and embarrassment.
“Yeah, right now.”
Sheepishly, I walked up to him and right there in the middle of the sidewalk we turned toward each other, bowed our heads, and held hands. He said one of the most sincere and heartfelt prayers I had ever heard. Deeply moved, I asked him, “Can I pray for you?” So, we bowed once again and after a spontaneous prayer, I offered an Our Father and a Hail Mary. He concluded with some consoling words which I will never forget.
“Where are you staying?” I asked. Note: Never ask a man experiencing homelessness where he is staying.
Shyly he responded, “In the park close to here in front of the MIA (Minneapolis Institute of Arts).”
“Oh, I know where that is! There’s a Catholic church nearby called St. Stephen’s with a steeple. Tell you what. Next time you’re there, go into that church. You’ll find a red lamp which tells you Jesus is there. Say a prayer for me,” I said.
With a smile, he said, “OK, yeah I’ll do that.”
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Kendall,” he said.
I choose to believe that Kendall kept his word.
Jesus invites his disciples, “Give them some food yourselves.” But they respond, “Five loaves and two fish are all we have, unless we ourselves go and buy food for all these people.”
“I don’t want your money. I just want something to eat…”
The food and nourishment we all need and which Jesus invites us to share is his true presence not only in the sacrament of the Eucharist but his living presence within and among us “for where two or three are gathered in my name, there I am in their midst.”
Meeting Kendall was one of the most beautiful Eucharistic encounters in my life. The funny thing is that when we went our separate ways, another couple walking down our side of the street handed Kendall a box of to-go food. Truly, we both left fulfilled. “They all ate and were satisfied.”
Father Tran is parochial vicar of St. Stephen in Anoka.
Sunday, June 22
Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ
- Gn 14:18-20
- 1 Cor 11:23-26
- Lk 9:11b-17
