- Mother Teresa
What kinds of words and actions express acceptance, love, care, thoughtfulness, love, and human touch in our interactions with the homeless?
I'm eager to hear ideas that speak to spontaneous personal interactions with the homeless, and planned group outreaches like the one coming up on 10/28/07.
11 comments:
Please elaborate. I am not a very smart man Jenny.
Ryan where are you? You dont call you dont write? (We miss you witty remarks!)
Okay, okay. The heat is breathing down my back. I had been intending to say something, so here goes:
First off, I think it is good to realize that homelessness people do experience so much rejection and a sense of being unwanted. Often times circumstances such as job loss and relocation are the catalyst for homelessness. Sure, there are those who use drugs and it is easy to blame them, but there are so many who have really just hit hard times and have been unable to recover. Many times, they very likely do not have the skills to recover either.
I find that simple things like a handshake, hug, listening, and praying for others does much to speak love. I think that laughing together goes a long way also. I like to ask homeless folks about their kids and families too and to see their faces light up (or sometimes that's a very painful subject). I think that having real conversation for more than two seconds is key with this whole thing. What I enjoy about our outreaches is that we are intentional about trying to develop relationships with people. This is so good.
Gotta run. Hopefully I appeased Mike (well, I think it was Mike who stuck the goad in my side).
Dallas Willard writes, in Spirit of the Disciplines, "... While the biblical teachings do not speak of eliminating poverty; they always insist that the needy are to be cared for, that the poor are not to be taken advantage of but defended and given opportunity, and the they are to be taken into consideration in all aspects of life."
The apostle Paul tells us: "Do not be proud, but be willing to associate with people of low position. Do not be conceited." (Romans 12:16). For me, it is often AFTER I see my own unwillingness to associate with people of low position, that I find myself asking, “How do I keep from indulging my comfortable, conceited patterns of thinking more of myself than I do of the poor?” Dallas Willard writes, "We must take care not to force such things [on others] ... but shopping, banking, even living in the poorer districts of our area will do much to lend substance to our grasp of how the economically deprived experience their world -- and ours. This will add a great substance to our understanding, prayers, and caring that can never be gained by an occasional "charity run" or by sending money to organizations that work with the poor."
I think Ryan, (and mother Teresa) are right. It’s the personal, relational things that help to snuff out the unwanted feelings of homelessness: Looking people in the eyes, getting to know them by name, exchanging personal information – things like where we’re from, and even confessing some of the things that we struggle with as we converse with them. It goes a long way to open conversation doors if I am the first one to admit that sometimes I argue best with the ones I love most, or share my own experiences with the disappointed of looking for the right job, or making choices that I know to be good for me. I find that a little candid sharing (it’s really modeling confession, and a humility to admit I don’t have my life all together) opens a lot of doors to allow me to more fully listen (both to what people are trying to tell me and to what they tell me without trying).
Willard continues in the same book quoted above, “How do we respond to that man sleeping in those discarded boxes? Does it take great and awkward effort even to acknowledge his presence, or to speak to him if need be, or to take his hand or help him with his few possessions? Are we frightened of him though the circumstances are perfectly safe? Do we shrink from being seen near him or dealing with him? Is his smell and dirtiness alone enough to repel us from him? Or, how about others not in such extreme condition? Does the fact that a person is without work or an apartment or an automobile make us treat him or her as if he or she were 'different'?
If so, then we have not truly beheld our own ruined condition, and because of this we cannot heartily love that person. ... Our problem is not primarily with how we see the poor, but with how we see ourselves. If we still think and convey by our behavior that in some way we are fundamentally different and better as persons from the man sleeping in the discarded boxes in the alley, we have not been brought with clear eyes to the foot of the cross, seeing our own neediness in the light of it. We have not looked closely at the lengths to which God had to go to reach us. We have not learned to live always and thankfully in the cross's shadow. From that vantage point alone is our solidarity with the destitute to be realized.” (Willard)
We give away a lot of stuff in Socks and Gloves street outreach. But, I think it’s a lot like the way I feel about gifts: if someone gets to know some things about me and gives me a relevant gift, it means a lot more, than if someone who doesn’t know me very well feels like I need them to give me something. The first type of gift feels personal, the second feels like charity. I agree with Mother Teresa, it’s not just about having things.
Finally, I think the most important thing we have to give on the streets is a willingness to receive. The homeless have gifts and talents of their own to share that are often overlooked. I feel better when I get to use my strengths or talents for others. If a person can sing, I listen enthusiastically to their song and affirm their talent. When the homeless shared their blankets with me to sit on when all the tables were full at our first Turkey in the Park we became equal players: I brought food, they brought seating and we spent time getting to know each other over a shared meal. (Personally, I think that’s what makes Turkey in the Park one of our more powerful events.) I need regular practice to remind me that the playing field really is a level one despite socio-economic classes. People who may seem like they have nothing to give in our culture, really do have something of value to share – it’s innate, God given. I just need to remember to look for it.
And, Jenny - while I agree you're not a man, I do think you're smart. :)
Wow... Ryan and Ann you both are very articulate writer's. Its like I can think it but I cant put in words like you. Bravo..........
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p.s. How did you know it was me Ryan? I am appeased. Thanks!
Mike-
You writes more gooder too.
It sounded like you, so I knew it was you.
And, was it also Ryan, who is 'not a very smart man' using his wife's name?
Rachel Stanton, pubished an article, "My Carefully Calibrated Difference", in October's Next Wave Ezine where she previews a book by Sara Miles: Sara Miles: Take This Bread: A Radical Conversion.
In the book, Sara chronicles her surprising mid-life transformation from atheist to Christian and her calling to establish a food pantry in one of San Francisco’s most economically disadvantaged neighborhoods.
Sara writes, "I’d sit down next to people and let them talk or cry; I’d listen and put my hands on them; at some point, I’d pray aloud, without really knowing where the words were coming from. It felt homey, not mysterious. But it usually made me cry too…
If my carefully calibrated difference from others wasn’t going to be the vitally important thing about me, then my identity was going to be bound up with all kinds of other people at their most vulnerable and unattractive…
It was my own weakness, my own confusion and hunger; it was everything I couldn’t be sophisticated and together about. Of course I was going to weep, and pray, with her."
Rachel, who previews Sara’s book was grabbed by this phrase: “if my carefully calibrated difference wasn’t going to be the vitally important thing about me…” Rachel writes, "Wow. Is that difference (or illusion of difference) something I’m willing to give up? ... Of course I believe that God loves all people equally regardless of their choices or circumstances. And I want to encourage and show kindness to people facing serious challenges. I care about people whose lives are messy and dysfunctional and I want to help them. But give up my carefully calibrated difference? Allow my identity to be bound up with theirs?
What I really want is to care and to connect, but to still be different. What I really want is to say “I’m high-functioning and you are low-functioning, but that’s OK, I still love you anyway.” What I really want is to pretend that because I am a middle-class married woman with a respectable family background that my life isn’t messy too. I want to say to the mentally ill and high school drop-outs and the folks living in generational poverty “I value you” but I don’t want to say “we are the same kind of people.”
Jesus, change my heart."
I'm right where Rachel is: Learning to get over myself enough to reach out and help people right where they are whether it makes me look good or not.
For the record, it was not me. You'll not be finding me using my wife's name.
I think its a quote from Forest Gump. I not a very smart man jen-nay. (I think)
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