Will Work for Beer

On my way to work I usually see, "Homeless, anything helps." Or, "Will work for Food." Or, "Disabled Veteran, please help." I try to offer a dollar or two a few times a week. On that rare occasion when I get it together to make my lunch, sometimes I make two sandwiches and pass one to the beggar (why was I uncomfortable typing that word? Why did I struggle to find an alternative, finally accepting "beggar?").

This morning I saw instead, "I need a beer." How does that sign make you feel? I saw this sign this morning and it made me angry. Sad. I want those signs to maintain an illusion. An illusion which says, “I will never be where you stand.” But, I already know that it’s closer to possible than I’d ever have dreamed. And that frightens me. What would my sign say? “Middle-aged lady, spent too much money on fabric and books, needs food?”

If I look deeper, I want those signs so that I can maintain my moral superiority; the safe illusion that I have plenty to share. I must be doing things right, I have a house, food, a job. Thus,I can pass out my dollar (You pathetic, not-so-smart-fellow). I seldom look into eyes, or speak when I hand over my small bits of cash. No doubt, the sign's owner felt some moral superiority over his companions; at least he was being honest. The same moral superiority I sometimes feel, maybe?

I remember in my much younger days (insert grin), arguing this: Jesus told us only to give alms. Jesus did not urge us to interrogate the recipient. I argued that the giving was for the giver; an act of obedience to the Master, an act of compassion and love; it softened our hearts. I was raised by a mother who instilled in me what she says came from C.S. Lewis. She insisted that Lewis teaches that if you are comfortable in the social class in which you live; you are not giving enough. She usually brought this up when I complained that I could not give my tithe. I chewed up my Mother’s words, and others. I was enamored of Vincent Van Gogh who was said to give even the shoes on his feet to beggars. I looked to Mother Theresa, keeping her image on my desk .

Now, I'm not so sure. As I grow older I am less certain about many things. I no longerummm, rarely okay, seldom? am not often? a champion of extremes. I have grown comfortable with uncertainty. I question the clear-cut, absolutely right views which I once held. Maybe it's okay to use paper diapers - or at least I won't forbid them in my home (before I had grandchildren, I told my daughters that paper diapers and baby bottles would never enter my home!), maybe a bit of Saturday morning cartoons with sugary cereal won't stunt your growth and destine you to work for beer. Maybe there is a reason some wars must be fought. I am more and more comfortable with saying, "I don't know."

Maybe I was just glad this morning to keep my dollar. I don't know.

P.S. A link for everyone to visit