STEWARDSHIP—LIVING CHRISTIANITY [ RADICALLY]

New World Articles

Christ Visits Taco Bell
By Rich Goode
contributor

I have one rule about corny Christmas stories. I will only tell them if they are true. This story is not only true but, I think, hints at something central in the nature of our relationship to God, the giver of all gifts. It is one of those lessons that only a ten-year-old can teach us.

It was a cold, snowy Chicago night in December. John, a tired father, pulled up to the local strip mall with the three kids in tow. The time allotted for dinner permitted only a quick stop at Taco Bell before heading back out to more shopping, errands and general running around. It was one of those exhausting, mid-December nights that leads you to question why Christmas has to be done this way.

The only other person in the restaurant that evening was a homeless man. He had long since finished eating. He was obviously just sitting there because it was warmer than the streets and he had nowhere else to go. His looks were unappealing and suggested an utterly defeated man. As most of us would, John and his family unconsciously chose to sit several tables away from this unfortunate person.

John got his family settled in and went up to the counter to order their food. His kids, Jean (age 15), Tom (age 13) and Martha (age 10) waited at the table. Bland Christmas music played in the background as John waited impatiently for two tacos, a Mexican pizza and, yes, one carne asada chalupa. As he stood at the counter, he noticed that the homeless man had left his seat, probably to use the washroom. John did not think anything of it. He was thinking about all that they still had to do that night. He longed for the end of the day when the errands would be done and he could get some sleep.

The conversation was light as the four of them ate. After a while, John noticed the restaurant manger approach the homeless man. In a polite but formal way, the manager told him that he had to move on. The homeless man started to gather up his belongings and John turned his attention back to the conversation.

John did not notice the homeless man again until he was right beside him. "Did you give me this?" The homeless man held out a $5 bill. "No," John answered. "Then, who gave me this money?" the man asked.

Before John could answer his ten-year-old spoke up. "I did," she said softly. The man looked at Martha. "I thank you," he whispered as he leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. He turned and walked slowly out of the restaurant.

Earlier in the day, John got to share some good news with the kids. Their Uncle Ralph had sent them each a small gift inside his Christmas card. The kids were delighted as their father handed them each $5. It struck John how delighted they were even though it was only a little money.

In stark and simple terms, Martha modeled the Christian response to being "gifted" and we are all gifted. God has showered us with blessings. Everything we possess is pure gift: wealth, intelligence, talents, relationships . everything. Even what we think we have earned, we have only earned because of gifts we have received freely from God, the ultimate giver. Every day is a blessing. Every moment is charged with grace. If we were to live in total consciousness of how blessed we are, every breath we draw would remind us of God's love.

But why? Why has God lavished blessing after blessing on us? Martha figured that out for me one cold December night. Her simple act of placing a $5 bill under a poor man's soft drink speaks a much greater truth. God gives us all these blessings for one reason and one reason only. We are given these gifts so that, over the course of a life, we can give them away again. Thank you, Martha.

Please remember the poor this Advent and Christmas season. You might not get a kiss on the forehead from "one of the least of His brothers" but you will enjoy the privilege of collaborating with God, the giver of all gifts.

Goode is director of planned giving for the Archdiocese of Chicago. Contact him at: (312) 534-7848.