A man dressed in a tattered green jacket and filthy tan pants, with a scraggly beard, uncombed hair and few teeth walks up and down Fifth Avenue near Bryant Park in Manhattan. I see him every day on my walk to work. It’s hard to miss him as he walks in the middle of the sidewalk dragging a two-wheeled shopping cart filled with what are most likely all his earthly possessions. He looks straight ahead, holding an open Bible while shouting King James Bible verses without looking