Oranges

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.