The Least of My Brothers

Good will can save a life... maybe even your own

Harris eyed the homeless man near the Jefferson Building warily. "Can I borrow some money, sir?" the man asked in a soft, articulate, voice. "I promise, I'll pay you back for any kindness you can spare."

Harris paused, looking at the man. He was dirty, yes; but he didn't look sullen—just needy, just down on his luck. Harris quickly assessed the situation. Just a guy like me; are we really so different?

Instead of giving the man money, Harris impulsively asked, "Will you have lunch with me?"

The man smiled. "I'd like that very much. Thank you."

"Wait here."

"I certainly don't have any other appointments," the man grinned.

Harris bought food from McDonald's across the street. Returning, he sat on the dusty sidewalk with the man. Harris looked at the stranger, expecting to see him wolfing the food down, then felt ashamed for assumption: the man was not gobbling but praying.

The man did eat hungrily, but with dignity. Harris spoke around a mouthful of food. "We're not so different, you know. I'm only ever one bad decision or accident away from being on the streets. God's watching over me."

The man nodded. He looked thoughtful. "Thomas, you have seen, and therefore you believe. Blessed are those who believe without seeing." He took another bite of his food.

Harris looked at him, somewhat amazed. He muttered, "Per adventure, if I can find one man in the city..."

The homeless man stood, finishing he meal. He winked at Harris. "Whatsoever you do, my friend." He smiled and walked around the corner of the building.

Harris followed. The man was gone...but there was a lightness in Harris' heart that had not been there for a long time.

In his mind, soft words echoed: "...That, you do unto me."

(Word Count: 298)