They say the pen is mightier than the sword, but it cannot compete with bulldozers and cranes ravaging our city, and signs taunting the homeless saying, “Coming soon, your home in the heart of the city, apartments starting at only $789,000.”
These buildings are replacing low rental apartments which for many was all they could afford. I have been inside many of these homes, and some were sorrowful hovels. However, they provided a roof over the head, and warmth in the depth of winter. They were a place to call home, which goes a long way to providing self-respect and community to those within.
Now everywhere the bulldozers and cranes are taking homes away from the voiceless poor. In the book of the prophet Isaiah, King Hezekiah was sick and near death and evoked the mournful cry of the crane bird, as he called on the Lord for mercy, “Like a crane did I complain; I raised my eyes upward, O Lord, I am suffering violence, comfort me.”
These days, the cranes stand silent and do the bidding of their masters as they ravish the homes of the poor who can only look to the Lord with the same grief-stricken plea. The inspiration for my ministry on the streets came 20 years ago when I was driving in the downtown area at 1 a.m. People sat against buildings, and were clearly on drugs, while others were negotiating prostitution deals. I thought: “Where is the Church?” and answered myself saying, “Here I am Lord, send me.”
Once again, in the midst of this housing crisis, I ask the question, “Where is the Church? How bad does it have to get before the Church and the government respond to the cry of the homeless: “I am suffering violence, comfort me.”
At a Catholic Women’s League conference years ago in Toronto I first put out the suggestion to a thousand participants that a builder seeking planning permission should have to answer the question, “How is this building going to help the poor and the homeless in the neighbourhood?”
An impartial body with a vested interest and representing the homeless would adjudicate the response. The builders can be as creative as they want. After all, if they are smart enough to erect a multi-story condo, they must be smart enough to answer that simple question. Better still, how about letting the poor and the homeless come up with suggestions at the planning stage?
I have always been touched by the story of a South African teacher who lost his job when he refused to give in to Apartheid. His response was that one day he would die and meet his Lord who will ask, “Show me your scars” and if he answered, “I don’t have any” the Lord would ask, “Was there nothing worth fighting for?”
Who in the Church thinks this fight on behalf of the dispossessed and voiceless poor is worth fighting for? Fighting both within the ecclesial and political realms? Who will stand up and say, “Here I am Lord, send me?” In the Beatitudes, Jesus said, “blessed are the poor, for they will inherit the Earth.” But what about when there is no more Earth to inherit, once it’s been sold for 30 pieces of silver and divided among financial conglomerates who build beyond the means of the homeless Christ?
My friend, the late Baptist minister Rick Tobias, said, “The Church will never again be strong until we take seriously the plight of the poor.” It seems to me these are prophetic words both on the political and ecclesial levels. They were an echo of Bishop Ken Untener who asked his diocese to make the first item on all agendas, “How is this meeting going to help the poor?”
I write this column in memory of my friend Chilli, who died of an overdose freezing on the street, within sight of the silent emotionless cranes just a few hundred metres away.
(Kinghorn is a deacon in the Archdiocese of Toronto.)