Tom Hogan and St Francis of Assissi

Yesterday I met a man named Tom. He is homeless, and is 17. He has been homeless for six months and has sold The Big Issue for the last 15 weeks. He was kicked out of his house by his mum’s boyfriend after he finished school. He sleeps on night trains (in the first class section, to that he can charge his phone). Regularly he gets mugged for his Big Issues ‘by crackheads’, and last week he had his coat stolen – but someone gave him another one. I find it deeply disturbing that a bright, socially-ept and genuinely interesting 17-year old could be in his situation. Homelessness is a genuine evil, and when it happens to someone so young you can help wondering whether Tom has been given a life sentence.

When I bumped into Tom yesterday he was selling at Clapham Junction. I was on my way to a friend’s house, and decided to have a chat with him. Went to a coffee shop and had something to drink, which was great. I now have his mobile number, and will see him again. A few things hit me:

1. That Tom is just like most 17-year olds. He saved up for 5 days to buy a mobile phone (earlier that week). He played me the songs that he had on it (downloaded from an internet café), and sang along while dancing in his chair. He MCs, and spat some lyrics over the beats. He really likes drinking Guinness and gets annoyed when people think he shouldn’t because he’s homeless – he’s as entitled as anyone to a drink. He thinks that most people don’t understand him, or think he’s got ‘Joe Cunt’ written on his face – actually, his name is Tom Hogan and he certainly isn’t one of those. He had a girlfriend who he wants to get back. He longs for the days at school when he had no problem picking up girls, and mourns his homelessness because no girls are going to fall for that. He loves music (which is ‘his life’). He hears that Jamie Oliver is opening a ‘Fifteen’ near Clapham Junction, and really wants to get a job there – he doesn’t mind if it’s just washing the dishes, but he’s always fancied being a chef. If he got a job, of course, he could get a house, and everything would be alright. Tom is just like any 17-year old – he hopes the same things for the future, and likes doing some of the same things for fun.
2. When I met Tom, I had had a pretty garbage day. A few things had happened and was feeling pretty rough. Shane Claiborne talks about Jesus’ command never being to give to the poor, but being to become poor yourself. Without glorifying poverty, I think this is right – there is something of immense healing power in giving of ourselves, rather than taking. A lot of people seem to regard Church as an opportunity to receive lots of spiritual wisdom, self-help books as a way of cultivating a sense of worth and value for oneself, and of learning to feel better about yourself. Yesterday I bought Tom a drink, a sandwich and some cake. But I also offered him my time, my experience, my ears and my words – these things are invaluable. But giving of oneself is not one-way traffic, for our meeting changed me beyond belief. Quite how is difficult to say, but it did and that is a good thing. I wonder if Church might be somewhere where we learn to give of ourselves, rather than somewhere from which we take whatever is offered.
3. St Francis of Assissi talks about receiving as we give, not as we seek to gather more for ourselves. I was in Francis House at school, and have always had rather a lot of time for the 13th Century nature mystic whose prayers have become engrained on the hearts of most Catholic schoolchildren. I find his most famous prayer deeply engaging, and one that, when placed within the context of my experience with Tom yesterday, speaks volumes about how I think Theology works. The interplay of past and present, of experience and reason, of tradition and not-yet tradition makes for a wonderfully rich means of engaging with life – the good bits and the bad. It is something that informs and directs my experience of the world, never knowing the answers or even the questions. It frames the actions that I take and the instincts that I cultivate, and makes like interesting beyond belief.

So here it is:

Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
Where there is injury, pardon;
Where there is doubt, faith;
Where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light;
Where there is sadness, joy.

O divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
To be consoled as to console,
To be understood as to understand,
To be loved as to love;

For it is in giving that we receive;
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
It is in dying that we are born to eternal life.