Yesterday I tried to give a homeless man a bag of oranges.
I was on my way to Trader Joe’s to pick up some special Christmas day
food when I passed him on a bench outside of Bed, Bath, and Beyond. Lately it’s
been so cold outside that most of the normal panhandling that happens in the
city has seemed to have stopped, so I had seen only a few homeless people in
the last few weeks. With the decrease of that visual reminder, I realized I
also hadn’t had to answer the question for a while of what to do when I see others
in need.
Normally the almost immediate answer to that is: someone else with ____
will do it. Most of the time the noun or adjective that fills in the blank is
driven by fear, or my desire for safety; that someone who carries all their
possessions, smells, and hasn’t shaved in a while must also be dangerous and
looking to take advantage of any young woman who stops to help them and therefore I must
stay away. This is the most socially acceptable fear I know – I do not know
more than one person in my whole social circle who says that they are
comfortable with me being the person
who helps. I’m a small, young, female. Someone else should do it.
Yesterday I realized exactly how much I had been struggling with that
automatic answer when I passed this man on the bench. Two opposing phrases came
to my mind at the same time: “we provide a hand up instead of just a hand out,”
from an advertisement from the Eugene Mission, and “because lawlessness is
increased most people’s love will grow cold,” Matthew 24:12. I’d been thinking
about these thoughts for weeks, I realized, as I walked right by the item I had
come to get at Trader Joe’s. I turned around, picked the item up, and blinked,
trying to organize my thoughts and figure out what else I needed. The rest of Eugene
Mission’s advertisement did more than just indicate the difference they were
making in the community; they were almost outright telling people to stop giving
the homeless handouts. I understand this: creating a reliant community that
survives off other people’s charity with no way of ever being able to provide
for themselves is a problem for both parties. But then how do we show love when
the rest of the world has grown “cold?” How do I feed Jesus when he is hungry,
clothe him when he is naked, and visit him when he is in prison? (Matthew 24:35-36)
I shook my head with no new answer to this problem than when I had
deeply started thinking about it a few weeks ago, practically saying “I don’t
know” out loud to the green beans I just picked up. I resigned to do nothing,
as usual, until I could come up with a better answer. Maybe do some research,
at home, figure out what exactly individuals can really do to help others
without feeding into a part of society that can only survive off of handouts.
I started walking toward the checkout when the feeling of
disappointment crashed over me like waves on a rock. I nearly looked around to
see if it splashed anyone else. The small voice without language or barriers
that had opened my eyes to my own realization of my struggle with this concept
was expressing sadness. Sadness at my decision, not just the fact that the man
outside was homeless. I’ve felt this sadness before, disobeyed before, and rationalized
with sound reason why I was doing so before. I stopped dead in my tracks
recognizing this feeling and the uncleanliness I’ve felt afterwards, when I had
a chance to follow the light, honeyed, joyful prompt for an often weird and
irrational action but I ignored it.
“Okay, Jesus,” I prayed in my head, “what do I get him?” I turned
around and instantly saw the bag of oranges two aisles over and felt the light,
joyful affirmation. I made my way over, confident, then paused before picking
it up, then nearly put it back, then finally went over the cash registers, then
didn’t make eye contact with the cashier, like that helped anything. (Side
note, I’m with you: what is wrong with
her? Apart from talking to green beans and looking around for proverbial
splashes of disappointment in the grocery store, I feel like I’m a pretty sane
person most of the time.)
With my groceries paid for, and oranges now in hand, the moment came
where I had to approach the homeless man. His hood was down, almost like he was
sleeping so my method of delivery was easy. I put them on the ground right next
to him and said “Merry Christmas.” I waited for just a second to see if he
would notice, and saw him jolt a little, like he had been taking a nap. “Oh,
um,” he said, and I braced myself. Perhaps for the joy that comes from obeying
in matters of the heart, of reaching out to give love when it is needed,
perhaps out of fear.
“I don’t need those,” he said.
What? I was stunned. Confused. “I’m sure that is really good food,” he
continued, “but with all the things I have to carry I’m just not able to carry them.”
I don’t remember what I said as I picked them back up off the ground. This
was a new heartbreak I had not experienced before. “Okay,” I ended up saying
before I left. “I wish you a merry Christmas anyways.”
I put my groceries in my trunk then sat in my car for a few minutes, nearly
crying. He couldn’t carry more things.
My mind reeled at the common perception most people have of trying to help the
homeless. Don’t give them money because they might spend it on booze or drugs,
give them food or other necessities. Perhaps both of those might be true, for
some, I’m sure. But what if the man or woman you choose to bestow your acts of
good service on doesn’t need those things? Why is it that we automatically
think we need to give things to
people in need?
I choked as I realized that the reason for my obedience today was to
change me and not him. That I’m the one that needed the lesson of how to care
for my neighbor in need. That if I had asked him what he needed and went and
bought it for him I could have blessed him much more than dropping a bag of
oranges at his feet and nearly running from pride and/or fear. That I wasn’t
doing anyone good in the situation where I treated him with “love” at the end
of a ten-foot pole.
That perhaps what we should reconsider when caring for those in need is
whether it is material possessions that they need at all.
Want to know how to help the needy, Mary Jo? Ask them. Better yet, ask
them what their name is and ask them how they are. Ask them what their story is,
and listen for the human soul that Jesus loves just as much as you. Chances
are, you won’t be able to do a single thing about their situation. But perhaps
they just need someone to help unload some of the things they carry rather than
add to it.
Will I stop and talk to the next person I see with a sign on the street
corner? Possibly not. But my prayer right now is that God will move in me like
he did yesterday, helping me see the joy of obedience to the law of love the
next time I can make a difference and that he’ll guide me from there.
