My friend John recently wrote a blog post in which he recounted a small scene from his day:
On the way home, at the stop at the intersection of Gorman and Hillsborough Streets, the bus driver opened the door, and a man with worn clothing, unshaven, and an overly-stuffed backpack screamed at the driver, “Man, I need to get to Cary.”
“I don’t go to Cary,” the driver responded.
“I need to get up to the BP station then,” the man yelled.
“The one up by the fairgrounds?” the driver asked.
“Yeah.”
The driver replied, “I don’t go that far, but I can let you off on Beryl, and you can walk up Beryl to the BP station. The fare’s a dollar.”
The man yelled back, “I don’t have a dollar man. I’m a Vietnam vet. I’ve served my country. I need to get to Cary.”
“Come on the bus, man. I’ll be a good citizen and pay your fare,” and the bus driver pulled a one out of his wallet and stuck it in the fare machine.
The man got off at the Beryl stop, and just walked face-in, into the little covered seating area that’s at that stop. He just stood there facing in, and I watched the bus driver watch him for as long as he could see him in the rearview mirror, and then out his side window as he turned the corner (until we lost sight of him), to see if the man was ever going to start walking along the road in the direction of the BP station.
And I wondered, “WWHD”? [What Would Hugh Do?]
I get asked stuff like this a lot. When I talk to small groups, when I sit across tables from the affluent… all of us have one on one interactions with homeless or suspected homeless. While it is obvious we need to do something, it is not clear exactly what that something is.
This man obviously has mental problems of some sort. He obviously has financial problems. He obviously has a hygiene problem. All of these are legitimate problems… but they are not the real problem.
The real problem is a relationship problem. If I were to develop mental problems, there are people in my life who would be concerned enough to see to it that I got the help I needed. If I have desperate financial problems, there are people who I could go to to get help. If I can not take a bath at home, there are people who will open their house and allow me to bathe there. This man is poor in a way I could never be, merely because of my relationships. I suspect you are probably in a similar situation.
When there is a disproportionate distribution of anything positive – power, wealth, prestige, privilege… anything at all – the responsibility for bridging the gap lies on the group that has more, not on the group that has less. In other words, it is up to us to ask how we can help. (Note: This is NOT the same as us deciding what needs to be done and then imposing it on them.) It is up to us to reach out and start those relationships that lead to change. It is up to us to initiate the shared meals, to start the conversations, to sacrifice the time we would spend with our privileged friends who are not as messy (or at least, not messy in the same way).
And to answer John’s question… I don’t know. If I only saw him the one time, there is not much I could do. I would pray for him, and have since I read John’s blog post. But if he was a regular part of my day, if I knew I would see him again, I would go out of my way to start a conversation with him. I would try to find common ground. I would learn his name and use it. I would try to remember things he told me, so I could talk about them the next time we met. In other words, I would try to befriend him.
And it might not work. We might not have any common ground. He may not like people from the South, or people who like cats, or any number of other silly reasons we humans have for not clicking with other humans. However, if in the course of his day he sees 100 people, odds are he would click with one of them if they would reach across the gap that separates his hell from their relative heaven. They just have to have the will to do it.