‘If you charge me, I’m going to bring 50 homeless people to eat the meal I’ve paid for’

A few Christmases ago, when I was running a homeless charity in London, we took a phone call that I will never forget.

A businessman was due to host a major event for 50 colleagues and clients in a prestigious London member’s club. A number of guests were flying in to attend, but there was a sudden cold snap and the freezing conditions meant many flights were cancelled. So, he decided to postpone the event and contacted the club to tell them.

However, because of the late notice, the club said that he would have to pay the full amount even if no one came. As a long-term member who had spent thousands of pounds there, he was disgusted not to be given more flexibility. He phoned the manager and said: “If you charge me, I am going to bring 50 homeless people here to eat the meal I have paid for.”

The manager thought he was bluffing and reminded the businessman of the club’s dress code and that they would refuse entry to anyone who was intoxicated. The businessman replied: “Nonsense, you always let me in wearing jeans, and if you barred people who had had a drink then no one would be let in.”

He slammed the phoned down. And then he phoned us.

Extending the invite

We were based at a church just round the corner from the club and ran a day centre attended by around 100 rough sleepers. The businessman explained the situation and said: “So, can you guarantee me that you can bring 50 people to this lunch?”

We replied: “That will be absolutely no problem.” And so it proved. We invited 40 day centre clients and ten residents of the care home we ran for men with serious alcohol addictions. The prospect of a posh lunch created a fair bit of excitement.

 “Oi Jon, why don’t we get this treatment at the day centre?’” one called out

On the day, I turned up at the club early to meet the businessman and help prepare. Amid the plush décor and festive decorations, there was a tense atmosphere. The businessman was still seething, swearing a lot and agitated about the standard of service. At one point he gathered the staff together and said aggressively: “It doesn’t matter who they are – you make sure you treat these people like kings. I mean it, F****** KINGS!”

I tried to calm him down. The mix of his antagonism and the nervousness of the staff was not exactly creating a celebratory atmosphere.

A tale of great joy

But as soon as our guests arrived, everything changed. In short, they brought the joy. Our day centre clients, who were almost all rough sleepers came in, some looking a bit sheepish, some grateful and others playing up to the posh venue. “This is alright,” said one. “Classy joint…my kinda place,” smiled another.

And our residents from the care home had got dressed up for the occasion, buying second-hand suits and looking very smart. It was a beautiful thing to see men whose lives had been so damaged by addiction arriving looking so dignified.

The businessman had not conceived the idea due to goodwill and generosity, but out of retribution and retaliation

My favourite part was seeing all of our guests having their coats taken off their shoulders by the staff as they arrived. Some resisted anyone trying to take their belongings, but others played up to it. “Oi Jon, why don’t we get this treatment at the day centre?’” one called out. “Be careful with that Mister, it’s my favourite coat”, said another.

No one was drunk, rude or caused any problems at all. And everyone loved the starters, the classy Christmas lunch with all the trimmings and delicious desert. It was a great afternoon that was talked about for years afterwards.

Mixed motives

There was something of Jesus’ parable of the great banquet in that day (see Luke 14:15-24). None of the invited guests could come to the rich man’s feast, so he sent his servants out into the highways and byways to invite in the poor and disabled.

But it was also one of the starkest illustrations of mixed motives that I have ever experienced. After all, the businessman had not conceived the idea due to goodwill and generosity, but out of retribution and retaliation. He wanted to get back at the club and thought that inviting the homeless might be a good way to do it. I wondered if he was a little disappointed with how well his substitute guests had behaved.

As the meal drew to a close, we said our thanks and goodbyes. Our guests collected their coats, some returned to the care home and many others to the cold streets.

The businessman shook my hand and gave me his business card. His agitation seemed to have been replaced by a warm glow of festive benevolence. He said: “Jon, this has been great. Let’s do it every year, we’ll make it an annual event.”

I would like to report that this was the start of a great partnership. But sadly not. I emailed him the next day, but I never heard back. I tried again a few weeks later and then again, a few months later, but heard nothing. His festive glow didn’t last long.

Motives are often complex – but they do matter. Do we help others out of genuine concern for their wellbeing, or just because it suits our agenda?

Hope into Action have their annual conference on 12 March. See here for details: Restorers of Hope

First published on Grace+Truth