PHARISEE MOMENTS

Do you ever have Pharisee Moments?

I do.  Christine was one of them. I met her in a snowbank one bitter January morning.  I was on my way to church.  She was wearing only a T-shirt and jogging pants - shivering but not minding the cold. (Without my heavy winter coat, I would have been freezing.)  It was 9 a.m. on a Sunday morning.  She had been at the church looking for a cup of coffee for herself and her friend, Earl. She came away empty-handed. She needed food. I, on the other hand, was on my way to meet my friends for early morning prayer.  I was late. That was my Pharisee Moment.  The voice inside my head said: 'Hurry up! Keep going. You're late.' Thank God, I listened and, instead, turned to Christine's voice. Christine received her coffee - and I received the blessing of a beautiful friendship.

Why am I telling you this? Well, yesterday I met the Pharisee again.  A biting cold December afternoon. (After all, this is Fredericton.)  It's Sunday - again. My friend and I are hurrying along the lower blocks of Queen Street.  On our way to a rare visit with Sheree - who has been our mutual cherished friend forever.  Afternoon tea at the Beaverbrook.  (Oh yes, I know it's now the Crown Plaza, but if you've lived here long - it will always be the Beaverbrook.) It's cold enough that we need to pop into the occasional storefront to keep warm.

And there he is.

Small.  Huddled in a bundle, sitting on the sidewalk, holding a - probably by now - cold cup of coffee. Maybe middle-aged. Only a layer of thin jeans between him and the freezing concrete. Not moving. Escaped into a drug-induced world. Probably. Over his right shoulder, through the window of Cora's cafe, the faces of dozens of smiling people eating late Sunday brunch. My eyes focus on one bright girl. Beautiful. Laughing. Chatting.The moment passes. We are on our way to warmth, fragrant friendship, dark hot tea. But the Pharisee is following me.

What if...

It would only have 'cost' five minutes to say: 'Are you alright?' Perhaps tuck him inside the warm door of Cora's and pay for scrambled eggs and toast, a steaming cup of coffee. Perhaps broken down the walls that keep us inside our comfort zone.

And found 'Christmas'.

Oh - and Christine? I often think about her name. An extension of Christ. If you live in Fredericton, it's easy to meet Christ in a snowbank.