Christ in disguise
Homeless Jesus, a sculpture by Timothy Schmalz, Parroquia Santa Anna, Barcelona —
Friday evening, Plaça de la Catedral, Barcelona —
Dear Lidy,
I had to push myself a bit tonight, because I’d been in a bit of a mood all day, but I went to sing anyway. And I’m so glad I did.
There must have been at least sixty of us in the choir tonight, and it’s always powerful when there are that many of us; the audience is quickly drawn in. But right at the start of the concert, a bloke —a homeless man— started hanging around in the middle, between the audience and us, making strange gestures, playing air guitar, and so on; it was a bit awkward having him there… But basically, he has just as much right to be on the street as we do, doesn’t he?
In any case, he stayed for quite a while and right next to me, but for once, I wasn’t scared. We could see he wasn’t ill-willed. The director exchanged a few words with him. And I heard him: before anything, he asked for his name.
Then, after a few songs, he eventually moved away and went to sit in a giant flowerpot, one of those they put there to grow trees in the square. He stayed there for the whole concert, and I thought about that for a while. You know, when I spoke last time about how our voices, the music, the atmosphere created by the melody kind of form a bonfire in the night, around which everyone, even from afar, wants to warm their hands. I suppose he must have felt that too.
During Cohen’s ‘Hallelujah’—that pivotal moment when we step off the stage to mingle with the audience— I knew he was the one I wanted to go and meet. I took his hand. And ever since the ‘Nada’ ¹ song, I knew something was going on, as he’d been turning his head away, and I was right: he was crying.
Just for a second. His gaze met mine. And it said so much that I thought I was going to start crying too. With his red nose, he must have been drunk. I took him in my arms. Just for a second. He held me tight.
Do you ever think about that? How long has it been since anyone last gave him a hug? Just for a second. I let go of him, squeezed his hand one last time and went over to see the others, but unfortunately, I’ve forgotten everything about them. I went back to my place. (I can’t say ‘on stage’ as we’re in the street, but to my place in the semicircle).
And just for a second. I saw him, paws in the air, struggling to free himself from his flowerpot. And I felt a tear roll down my cheek. It was the look in his eyes. It killed me.
This Sunday, at the Cottolengo, we’ll sing that song again—the one I can never get through to the end because I choke up every time I hear it say:
“You thought I was worth saving,
So you came and changed my life.
You thought I was worth keeping,
So you cleaned me up inside.” ²
Do you remember, Lidy, that shadow that used to follow me everywhere? Ever since I was a little girl. I was so afraid of it…
And yet, all this time… and tonight! It was Him. Undercover, in a flowerpot. —
¹ : An original song from Little Light’s repertoire, which says: “Nada, ya no me queda nada. He perdido la fuerza, solo tengo la voz”. Nothing, I have nothing left. I’ve lost the strength to fight; all I have is my voice.
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