The combination of temperature and
breeze created a perfect, comfortable setting in the park that day as Evgeny sat
alone eating his peanut butter sandwich. If it was Thursday, he would have added
raisins to his sandwich, as a special treat for himself. He found great
pleasure in watching the birds capture bugs and worms from the massive lawn
before him. Though he sat and ate alone, he was surrounded by young mothers
pushing their children around in strollers, the occasional jogger, and the old
men who sat a short distance away playing chess.
He
checked his watch to see that he had ten minutes to finish his lunch and return
to the office that towered behind him. As Vice President of Finance, his office
consumed the largest corner of the 7th floor, looking out over the
park he now enjoyed. He dropped his disposable cup and his lunch wrappers in the
waste receptable as he left the park, dropping a twenty-dollar bill into the
lap of a homeless man who sat on the curb at the edge of the street.
The
day finally finished as he completed his work of formulating and advising the
wisest path to follow for the company’s branch of investment. Joining three
other men in the elevator down to the parking garage, he could only cringe as
he listened to them speak about their latest purchases, their latest vacations,
and their plans to divorce and remarry much younger women. He had nothing to
contribute to the conversation as none of these things were part of his
mindset.
Each
man said goodbye to all of the others and Evgeny drove home, watching the
homeless people, the street kids, and the prostitutes weave in and around the
sidewalks. His home was a long way from extravagant, being just large enough to
keep him safe and comfortable, providing just enough room for his few needs and
the basic necessities. Measuring just over 1200 square feet, he saw no need for
anything larger, as it would simply be wasted space that offered him no value.
His
week had passed uneventfully, and he always looked forward to Friday night, as
it gave the opportunity to leave the office behind, enter the streets, and
interact with those who were lost, confused, poor, and suffering. Evgeny
dressed down to blend into the casual and coarse world of the street people,
slipping out of his front door and finding the dirtiest and most dangerous
places in the city.
As
he rounded the corner of a distant alley that seemed to know him well, many
people called out his name as his face lit up from the burning barrels. Scores
of young women in little to no clothing greeted him and appreciated his kind
words, his gentle embrace, and his fatherly attitude toward them. He understood
that most or all of these girls knew nothing but abuse and deprivation at home,
selling themselves to provide enough income for their most basic needs.
It
had grown dark, and he watched the moon slowly move across the sky, as he spoke
with, encouraged, and loved all of these broken and dirty people. Despite being
one of the wealthiest and most powerful men in the city, these street people
had no understanding of who exactly he was, the kind of lifestyle could lead,
if he so chose, but only saw him as a kind, old man with a slight Russian
accent. He could see the pain and suffering in the eyes of most of these girls
and it was on this night that he chose to invite four of them back to his home
for warmth, for safety, and for high quality food.
Neither
they nor his co-workers knew or understood just how much he sacrificed to
provide for those in need. He personally funded two different soup kitchens in the
neighborhood, he paid large sums of money to cover the expenses for orphaned
children, and he gave away bags of groceries each day to homeless people. He
could see no sense or rationale to burying himself in comfort and excess when
so many other people had little to nothing and often went hungry.
As
he and the four girls returned to his home, he let them into the spare bedroom
with two bunkbeds, an abundance of clothing, and a private bath. While they
warmed up, cleaned up, and clothed themselves, he made dinner for all of them
until midnight arrived and they all slept well several hours into the next day.
Evgeny rose early, wanting to make a good breakfast for everyone and see them
off for the day, trusting that his influence would draw them toward that which
was good and right.
A
few hours after they departed, he made a trip to the grocery store and began
his regular Saturday morning delivery to several dozen homeless people, and
families that struggled to feed their children. Returning from the temple on
Sunday afternoon, he walked through multiple blocks of the neighborhood,
speaking with and encouraging those who knew him and loved him. Monday morning
came around and he delivered the same story to his co-workers about his
activities on the weekend.
The
response was always the same. “Why do you waste your time and money on these
sub-humans, they’re only taking advantage of you? You really should take care
of yourself, live a little, be comfortable, and enjoy the large amounts of
money that you earn.” Evgeny had tried many times to explain his behavior and
his thoughts about philanthropy and love for others but none of them understood
him in the slightest. So eventually he gave up trying to explain. Instead, he
began suggesting that they focus on helping others rather than selfishly
focusing on their own comfort.
Year
after year passed and he began to see most of the women from the streets move
on and begin regular, balanced, and healthy lives, only to be replaced by the
next generation of young girls. Yet his pattern of support and encouragement
remained the same, knowing that his efforts were making a difference. It was
when he reached his seventieth year that visitors began to arrive at his home,
bringing him small gifts, warm and loving greetings, and news of how his words
and support had saved them from certain destruction.
His
retirement plan had started after his seventieth birthday, and he lived
comfortably with the investments he had made, knowing that he would not work
forever and would one day need a balanced income that required nothing from his
work as a financial advisor. He kept careful track of his visitors, taking
photos with each one and nearly bursting with joy at the impact his efforts had
made in so many people.
As
he continued to grow older, his outside activity became less and less, and he
no longer brought street people home with him. He later learned that many of those
he had helped over the years began to imitate his words and behavior, helping
anyone they could with their limited incomes. “It’s always right to do the
right thing,” he thought. “There is no value in comforting yourself, in living
in luxury, or always having the newest and best thing, whatever it is.”
Having
never married, having never had children, he created a very articulate will for
his wealth and belongings to be given away, sold, and distributed to those in
need and organizations that would do good. As he approached his eightieth year,
he began to give away his things, allowing him to move into a retirement center.
He could then spend his time with those his own age, of his own mindset, and
enjoy peace for the last years of his life.
He
could see his ninetieth year approaching, so he created a very specific plan for
his funeral. He found his record book of visitors from the many years before
and began writing letters of invitation to his funeral, whenever it would be. He
gave explicit instructions about mailing these letters on the day of his death,
allowing for his many friends and associates to prepare for his funeral.
Three
days short of his ninetieth birthday, he laid down in his room, closed his
eyes, and knew that this was his final night of rest. For forty days after his
repose, he watched his body be moved from the rest home to the morgue, his
belongings distributed to those in need, and the hundreds of people travel to
his funeral at the massive Cathedral of Sts. Peter and Paul.
The
joy he experienced in seeing the changed lives of so many people traveled with
him into eternity, knowing that he had done everything that he could to focus
on others and not himself. He then finally rested in ultimate peace and
holiness, surrounded by those he had known in his younger years.
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