91Èȱ¬

Good morning. I was on the edge of Trafalgar Square. Suddenly, from behind me, a hand swooped my phone from my grasp. The hand belonged to a hooded cyclist, on a motorised bike. My assailant sped away from me, bearing my whole digital identity. I pathetically roared my outrage. I’d become one of 65,000 people to have their phone stolen in London this year.

Yet immediately two extraordinary things happened. As I made middle-aged plodding chase, a woman spread herself wide like a star, stood in the cyclist’s way and shouted, ‘Stop it and drop it.’ I was too dazed to realise what was happening. Then a small boy stretched out his hand and offered me my phone. I received it dumbfounded, like a person from the audience taking back the Ace of Spades from a conjuror doing a magic trick. I shook his palm with my still-trembling hand. The cyclist had dropped the phone just as the woman had told him to. I looked round to thank her; but she was gone. The whole event took 20 seconds.

I’ve pondered the three characters in this story. First, the boy on the bike. Why was he not putting his talents to better use? And what life experience had led him to get kicks out of making others miserable and jeopardising his liberty by this kind of stunt?

Next, the courageous woman. She involved herself in my life and my assailant’s, affected both for the better, and, as if to prove she sought no credit or reward, disappeared back into the darkness before I could even identify her.

Then the boy who handed me the phone. I don’t think he was connected to the woman. Her courage would have been no use to me, had he not run into the road to save my phone from being crushed. He stepped up and did a simple, yet kind, if dangerous, thing.

As I recovered my breath, I reflected on these three characters. In the plundering biker I saw myself amid the climate crisis, as humankind snatches the fruits of creation, disfiguring and impoverishing the earth. In the brave and selfless woman, I beheld with awe people who boldly step up to make a difference. In the kind boy, I perceived those whose humble work is to turn others’ courage into practical change.

More subtly, this episode gave me a picture of God. One who, like the woman, stands in the place of danger to restore us to life; and who, like the boy, gently offers us the incredible gift of a second chance. Twenty seconds had shown me myself, my neighbour, and God.

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