So How Do You Help Your Fellow Man?

When I lived on the East Coast I constantly traveled in and out of Manhattan on business/pleasure, and lived in Greenwich Village for two years. So homeless people were certainly never a strange sight to me. I was not a novice or bleeding heart; I had known people who had been physically accosted when they tried to be merciful givers.

Nevertheless, I did often buy food for the people standing around or sitting begging. I don't give money because I don't want to support someone's addiction but no one should have to go hungry, right?

Where I live now on the West Coast, one thing that surprises me is that most of the people I see begging are Caucasian men, many of them young. This afternoon I was stopped at a light and noticed a fellow I'd seen over the past week, standing there with his "Hungry" sign. I looked at him. He looked directly back at me hopefully. I angsted. The light changed and I drove away, feeling an inordinate sense of guilt and obligation.

Should I have pulled over and taken him to a diner? Gone to the grocer's and gotten some bread? (But I did that once. I saw a man begging in the parking lot of a grocery store so I bought a loaf of bread and came out to give it to him. He refused it. He wanted cash.)

I ran my errands and by the time I passed the corner again the man was gone. I pulled into a store to pick up some sushi for a quick dinner. As I came out, I saw another Hungry person standing on the curb, and this guy had a young pit-bull mix with him. That pushed me over the edge. Thinking I could redeem myself for the other man I had not helped, I handed my sushi over to this fellow.

He was again, Caucasian, and looked like he was in his twenties. He was filthy, and he had that spaced out look of the long-term user. When I asked him what his story was, how he'd ended up begging on the streets (in so many words) he rambled on about how he used to own some sort of a shop and then the owner (?) turned it into an Ecstasy Lab (?)

I was starting to regret my action. I even felt a bit angry. Here I was talking to this tall, white young man who was- to be honest - coming across to me like a total slacker who begged during the day so he could spend his nights getting high. I wanted to ask for my sushi back.

I looked at his dog; it was barely out of puppyhood, with a wrinkly brow. It jumped up and slobbered me with kisses. I wondered what would be the dog's ultimate fate. Would this man abandon it on a whim? Was he just using it to gain sympathy from foolish dog lovers?

Then I thought, if I analyze every needy human being, I will inevitably come up with their faults and decide that they don't deserve my help. Jesus didn't judge. He just helped. He gave at their point of need. If HE held back His Grace based on worthiness, none of us would qualify for even a cup of water. He didn't continue helping over and over, though. He got them on their feet (literally) and in many cases, told them to "sin no more." Jesus wasn't a sap.

As I drove back home I felt like a Lolcat FAIL: "Giving to Homeless: UR DOING IT WRONG!" Wouldn't it be better to volunteer at a homeless shelter instead of randomly buying meals for people on the streets? If I really want to help, shouldn't I get a degree in social psychology and provide counseling for these people?

At the end of the day, does a bowl of sushi really help anyone?