If Jesus walked on a Vancouver beach and saw Emile, what would His reaction be?
Emile is an odd man. No one can define him because his problem is different thoughts, perceptions, and behaviors. All of these have defied a medical, spiritual, or psychological solution.
Emile liked to sit between two enormous logs on the Third Beach in Vancouver. He has lived on that beach for as long as most nearby residents remember. What he silently contemplates between these gigantic uprooted trees is only known to himself, the winds, and God.
Part of the problem about Emile is that he was always under the radar. He wants to remain unnoticed. Those who did see him, their eyes quickly ventured to a different endpoint. Emile wondered if he had the power of invisibility. Well, not in the most practical sense, but in an imaginary, childlike way.
The local food shelters provided for all that he needed. His enormous belly showed that this wasn’t a problem. His clothing had seen better days. His undersized white shirt had lost its glory and looked as though it needed a severe washing, that is if it would survive without shredding. His gray hair was long and thick and stretched down to his shoulders. He also had a yellow streak that started at the mustache and continued linearly on his beard. This hue was a sign of a passion and one of the few external vices he possessed.
This vice was so strong that Emile quietly awaited a passerby to toss their almost complete cigarette in the sand. He would quickly recover the stub, drawing whatever remaining life had left. This behavior made onlookers shudder.
Everyone had a different reaction when they saw him. A local newspaper crowned him the mascot for the homeless. The write-up outlined his physique as a modern-day Santa Claus. This celebrity homeless status was not an honor to him. He liked good company but didn’t appreciate being the center of a party either. The moment of popularity passed quickly, and he quietly returned to the shadows of humanity.
He did have another brush with popularity that just made him laugh. There was a newspaper story about a man who looked and dressed similarly to Emile, who turned out to be a millionaire. He was a big, burly guy with an unkempt black beard who sold newspapers at the Hastings and Burrard intersection for years. No one knew his name until after he died. He was a disheveled paperman who died and left unclaimed, as the story goes, the money.
Emile wasn’t usually that popular. Children playing on the beach would walk a wide half-circle around Emile. Mothers would often shout, “beware of strangers,” within his earshot, and frequently tightly held their children’s hands as they passed.
Many people walking by him on the beach ignored his presence. However, Emile saw them. He knew many of the mysteries people carried in their hearts – the hurt, the pain, the thrill, joy, loss, and successes. Did he quietly join the person in these passing moments because he was compassionate? Or was it because these people reminded the deep hurts that may have haunted him? The answer is not known.
A social worker offered Emile lodging and a small stipend for food, but he gratefully declined. “I am not a beggar,” he replied, “and I like it here.” The soft white puffs of clouds in the sky, the curiosity of the seagulls, the comings and goings of ships of every kind of shape and color, and the ever-changing shoreline always caught his attention.
An evangelist came by and urged him to accept Christ. Emile humbly bowed his head and followed his lead. They recited together, “Dear Lord, I am a sinner, need your help, and ask for forgiveness. . .” Emile constantly looked down at the sand while praying but that indifference went unnoticed. The evangelist, delighted at his conversion, invited Emile to their Church. Sunday was four days away. Emile will say yes but would not attend. “They are nice people, but it is not a place for me,” he thought. The evangelist never realized that Emile had been converted thrice last month.
Every night, as Emile wanders about, he thinks about God and often prays. It is a muttering self-talk that no one understands. The few times he went to Church have helped. The tele-evangelists have encouraged him along the way with their promises of a better life. He had always remembered their words. He even tried to send $20.00 to the television preacher Peter Popoff because Peter desperately needed the money. However, he required cheques or a bank account to make this happen. He didn’t like to send cash through the mail. “Too many people would try to steal it before it got there,” he thought.
A politician came by and sat with Emile. “Isn’t it bad, Emile, that the government has cut off social assistance to such a degree that it forces people like you to live between these logs?” Emile shook his head in agreement and gave a small smile. His golden rule is never to hurt or offend anyone. They posed together for a picture. The politician left, promising Emile a better life.
A doctor and a nurse came by to give Emile a brief check-up. The doctor was a friendly man whom Emile always appreciated. The physician gently but firmly asked, “Have you been taking your medication?” Emile apologized. The doctor prescribed along with advice. Emile asked some questions and thanked both him and especially the nurse. The doctor patted him on the back and wished him a good week. He returned the greeting with a slight smile and then asked, “Hey doctor, would you have an extra smoke?” The doctor shrugged his shoulders and answered, “That’s a bad habit that you should get rid of Emile. Smoking is not good for you”. “I know, I know,” Emile replied.
The doctor left, and Emile didn’t know what to do with the prescription. He thought he should wait for his friend Alan, who always appeared unexpectedly. Alan always helped him with going to the pharmacy. Emile didn’t like going there, but it wasn’t so bad if Alan came along. Alan didn’t mind helping him. This way, they could share the prescription. Well, sharing was what Emile thought, but Alan gave little in return, except that he was always fun to be with — except for the time Alan took much and had a serious complication requiring him to go to the emergency ward. He told his gray-bearded friend that he would never do so much at once again.
Emile knew that Alan may have learned this lesson, but He wasn’t the sharpest saw when experimenting with things. Sooner or later, trouble would find him again in another form. Of course, Emile would never tell him that directly. He didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Friends don’t do that.
What if one takes this story further and looks at it from a spiritual angle? What if Jesus was walking on the Third Beach while Emile was in his usual pose, sitting between the logs? Crowds of people would surround Christ for numerous personal reasons.
Would Jesus stop and call Emile far away between the sand and the logs to join Him? Probably not. He knows Emile is sensitive to being singled out and that it would hurt more than help.
Would He forget about Emile while being among the pressing crowd? Emile’s legacy is minuscule compared to those extroverts who see Christ and directly engage with Him. Both these acts gave Emile a morbid fear – because approaching or speaking emotionally to anyone was a fearful encounter. Would Christ overlook him because of his introverted nature?
Jesus talking, healing, and converting the extroverted multitudes would have an immediate impact and could go viral. Almost anything He would do with Emile would have a negligible cosmic or social impact.
Emile is also too shy to move into Christ’s personal space and too humble to ask for anything.
What if Christ came to him? Would He explain that Emile must be born again and begin to read him the four spiritual laws? Would He cast out the demons that many candidly believe Emile to possess?
No. It would be a different type of exchange. It would be a simple look that happens in a micro-second—the gaze a mother gives a child that goes far beyond words and warms the heart.
A look from Jesus would be enough for Emile. The Jesus he saw was much different than the crowd’s. Emile probably wouldn’t budge from between the logs, but the glance would warm his heart. The crowd on the beach wouldn’t notice his change in countenance or want him to remain invisible. Emile would appear to be the same stoic self, but he would be satisfied inside.
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Emile is a fictional character based on Charles Sullivan’s experiences with transient males as a Residential Care Worker at the Salvation Army in the early 1990s.