Which is pretty dramatic for a Canadian.
It was because of this. A 90-year-old man and two pastors were charged and fined for feeding "the homeless".
Do I need to point out again that the label only works
if we call everyone else "the homed"?
Then someone followed up by sending me this. More cities which ban sharing food with the homeless. It's like a "don't feed the animals" sign and now I'm getting outraged all over again just talking about it.
Honestly, I know someone will tell me about
the various risks and liabilities and reasons
that explain why this rule is acceptable,
but sometimes I stand back
and look at the human race as a whole,
and think, "Really? REALLY??"
Do we really believe
that the way to build a healthy, happy society
is to penalize the decent human beings
who are simply helping other human beings??
So I was irked.
(Again - dramatic for a Canadian.)
Several hours later, the doorbell at the church rang. The doors are always locked, where we are. Always. At the door was a young man, politely asking for food. He didn't ask for money. He didn't have any attitude. He was simply hungry. And so very tired. I brought him my lunch, and he hesitated.
"But what will you eat?"
"I'm fine," I said.
"Let's share it," he offered. I smiled and shook my head. He caught me off guard when he took his hat off, bowed his head and offered a prayer of thanks for the food. We exchanged names and chatted a bit, outside the door.
After a few minutes he said, "My feet hurt so much. I've been walking for two days. Could I ... would you let me ... could I come in and wash my feet?"
I hesitated. There are rules, and I know them well. I tell everyone else to follow them, and I follow them myself.
(A few weeks ago,
a young lady under the influence of
- something -
got in by mistake
and was settling in to stay
by the time I got there.
It took us nearly an hour to talk her out again.)
So there are rules. Be generous, be kind, yes - and be smart. Be safe. Be tough. Don't be conned. Don't be naive.
"Are you clean? No drugs?"
He shook his head. "No. I respect this place."
"I don't want any drugs in my church."
"Neither do I," he said.
"No weapons either," I said.
"No," he answered and voluntarily emptied his pockets to show me.
I took him upstairs and showed him the washroom, quietly letting my office volunteer know what was happening, and what she should do if anything went wrong. The young man kept the door open while he washed his feet. He wasn't eager to leave, and I gently reminded him from across the hall that he could only stay for a few minutes.
"Have you ever been homeless?" No accusation, just curiosity.
"No," I said. "But I know a lot of people who have."
"I guess you would," he said. "You know what the worst is? ... People don't look at you. No one ever talks to you. It's like you're invisible. That's what terrifies my buddy...." and he drifted less coherently for a few minutes.
He came out and sat on the floor, holding up his socks, in tatters. "Do you happen to have any extra socks?"
"Ok." He tucked them in his bag, and wrapped his feet in paper towels before putting his shoes back on, gasping a bit at the pain from the blisters.
"How do you help someone understand that the Creator is all around you? How do I convince my buddy?" he asked, looking me square in the eye.
"Well, he probably doesn't want to be preached at," I said. "What do you think?"
He thought about it. "Show him?"
"Yep," I said.
As he left, he thanked me politely. I didn't even ask him if he had a place to go.
There was no point. I knew he didn't.
There are rules. Reasons why we say things should be done a certain way. Because experience and wisdom teach you that things can go horribly wrong, so you set up rules to make sure they don't.
But ... but ... sometimes ... it's just another human being. And you decide to trust your gut. And break the rules. And give someone food.
Because you have some.
And they're hungry.
May your Friday include some rule-breaking.
And may it be outrage-free.