At the men’s homeless shelter, an angry man stands before us. Crouching, fists raised like a boxer, the man shouts, “I’ve had enough! No more! You hear me?” He is big. No one moves. Two security men enter. They walk slowly, greeting others as they move in an arc toward the shouting man. They speak to him softly, a gentle hand on his shoulder, “John, we could hear you from the dining hall. Come with us. Tell us what’s going on with you.” His hands fall to his side. He leaves with them. We remain silent, grateful, praying for him.