The piece ended like this:
"All over the world, all day, every day, people are suffering, and here comes Barry, the homeless schizophrenic and hopeless alcoholic who wanders up and down Sunset Boulevard, one grimy hand clutching a plastic bag holding his worldly belongings, the other held out in a perpetual plea for booze money. What to do in the face of such suffering? What to do with your brokenness, your feebleness, your weakness, your own suffering and doubt and loneliness and fear? You give Barry a couple of bucks. You make sure to shake his hand and thank him, because this is Christ. And you keep walking--to
"Love the Church?" I interjected.
"We are all rather blessed in our deprivations if we let ourselves be," observed Flannery O'Connor. I'm so poor I long to shake Barry's hand. I'm so poor I need Christ.