He was another homeless man who had found himself a place to sleep alongside 10 or 15 others in the underground walkway of Fujisawa train station in Japan.
After 10pm, when the station had grown quiet, these men would set out their mats and settle down for the night. Before they fell asleep, however, a small group of us, composed of members of several Christian churches, provided them with hot tea, rice cakes and warm blankets. We also would spend a few moments chatting with each of them.
One night after I had exchanged greetings with one of these men, he looked at me straight in the eye and asked, “Do you know my name?” His question surprised me, “No, I don’t”. Then, I started wondering to myself, as the only non-Japanese person in this group of volunteers, why is he asking me this question. Why does he seem more concerned about his name than about the hot tea and rice cakes that I’m offering him. However, he just stood there looking straight at me. He then said gently, “My name is Honda. Can you remember it? Please don’t forget it.”
In that very moment, it was as if a window opened in my mind, and I no longer saw this man simply as another homeless person, but rather as a unique human being who longed to be recognized and called by his name: Mr Honda.
Living as a homeless man, who had already lost his job, his home and his family, the threat of losing even his name must have felt like the loss of his very self. He was in grave danger of becoming a “nobody.”
In that moment I realised that for Mr Honda, his name was much more important than hot tea and rice cakes! I quickly reassured him that I would remember his name, and after I said goodnight to him, I promised myself that from then on I would always greet him as Mr Honda. My heart was still full of the emotion of that encounter as I returned to the church at around midnight.
The next morning, as I entered the parish office, the parish administrator looked unusually serious, “What’s up?” I inquired. His response was slow and deliberate, “Remember the homeless man with whom you had a long chat with at the station last night?" "Yes,” I responded, "Mr Honda". Then, he continued, "Late last night he became ill and was rushed to the local hospital. He died there a short time ago".
As I tried to grasp this sad news, suddenly I got a glimpse of the immense joy that Mr Honda must have felt when God called him by his name and led him home.
Fr Tim Mulroy SSC is the Regional Director of St Columbans Mission Society in the United States.