I saw Jesus on Fordham Road, outside a cathedral built in his honor.

A long line of hungry and hopeful souls stretched around the building, waiting for a bit of relief. A loaf of bread, a tin of fish. Some water. Perhaps a coupon or a voucher to help with clothing and shelter. A doctor or nurse offering hope and medicine.

Jesus fit right in, moving as the line moved.  He wasn’t there to convert or exhort them to try harder, do better, or be less of a burden. He just hung out with the people he dearly loved. The hungry, the poor, the afflicted. The humble, the hard-working. The elderly. The ordinary. The child.

From anywhere.

He felt every glare of hate born of fear, ignorance, or bigotry. The false pride of not having to stand in this line.  He responded with unencumbered love and understanding, 

He heard echoes of song and prayer, past and present, floating from the souls who came to this mecca of faith. Organs and choirs, guitars and voices singing about vines and branches, whatsoever you do to the least of my brothers, peace be with you. Each in the language of the beseecher, the message common across them all.

He thought of the decades he stood alongside those seeking help from this place. Some in shame, some in desperation, with hope for relief of body, mind, and spirit. Help was always there.

There will always be a line.

‘For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat; I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink; I was a stranger and you took me in; Matthew 25:35