The Albert Rhodes Story

Albert is homeless.  He says people call him a “tramp” and sometimes give him money.  He lives on the streets of Sheffield where I have got to know him well.  As a walker, he gave me sound advice as I prepared to walk along roads from Sheffield to London.  I saw him recently, he was sitting on a concrete bench in the city centre. He had a bandage round his head and one round his foot.  “Banged into a wall,” he said.

As we got into conversation, I asked him to help me.  “I’m working on a sermon about tables and bread and parties in the wilderness,” I said, “It seems a bit odd but can you help me?”

“ I love bread,”  he said.

He reached into a carrier bag beside him.  His boots and walking stick were by the bag.  Out of the bag he fetched bread.

“I always have bread,” he said, “I know a shop.  I turn up just before closing time.  They give me a couple of loaves.  With it I feed myself and my brothers and sisters who are poor.”  He talked to me about all those homeless ones who walk at night as others sleep.

He held out a large round cob.

“This is made from rye.  I love it – my favourite,” he said, “try some.”

He broke off a large piece with his rugged hands and held it out to me.  I received it and said “Amen” and ate it in bits over several minutes.

As I ate it, he unpacked his carrier bag and brought out different kinds of bread and placed it all on the concrete slab bench which had now become a table.  Suddenly I was having a meal, and he was the host.  Each loaf was held up and its contents were described.  I was given a piece from each loaf.

“You need good red wine with this bread….it would be a good one for your communion at church.”

“You need to eat this bread with cheese….”

All around us a city centre environment with its own beauty, but a wilderness with a lifestyle of grabbing and greed and of profit before people.  People racing about.  Some sitting down to rest.  Before me now a parable of the text: “A table in the wilderness.”

I was being fed by one of the poorest people I know.  I was a guest of honour at a table in the wilderness.  “You treat me like an honoured guest.”

Inderjit Bhogal

25/6/00