Homeless in Japan
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. After 10:00pm, when the station had grown quiet, these men used to set out their mats and settle down for the night. Before they fell asleep, however, a small group of us, drawn from the membership of several Christian churches, provided them with hot tea, rice cakes and warm blankets. We also used to spend a few moments chatting with each of them.
One night after I had exchanged greetings with one of these men, he looked me straight in the eye and asked, “Do you know my name?” His question surprised me.
“No, I don’t”, I replied sheepishly. 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 I am offering him? However, he just stood there looking at me. Then he said gently, “My name is Honda. Can you remember it? Please don’t forget it”.
In that very moment, it was as 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 recognised 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, being called by 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 had 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 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 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.
Columban Fr Tim Mulroy served in Japan for many years and is currently the Columban Director of the United States Region.
Read more from The Far East, March 2016