As I sit here in Starbucks, studying and sipping my hazelnut latte, I cannot help but take a moment to reflect up those outside of this brick building, those who cannot afford a warm meal, let alone a four-dollar drink. On my way here, I passed by a harried, middle-aged woman, clearly out of her mind, who was wailing to the sky about someone who had failed her. I thought Berkeley had made me fairly seasoned in coping with encounters with the homeless and mentally ill, but D.C. reaches a whole new magnitude. In my last post, I referenced the lawyer in Luke's Gospel who asked, "And, who is my neighbor?" This is a question with which I struggle in this city. As I passed the wailing woman, a man walking near me commented with a Southern accent, "Bless her heart," and smiled at me with sad eyes. I nodded and smiled back wanly, furrowing my brow as I grappled with feelings of guilt and compassion toward the woman.
I would love to reach out to her, but, frankly, I don't want to put myself in harm's way. Since I moved to D.C., homeless people have scowled at me, yelled at me, sworn at me, made sexual advances toward me, slapped me on the butt, and one old woman even struck me on the back. In Berkeley, I felt comfortable going up to homeless people to give them food or change, or even to ask if I could pray for them, but here I don't even feel safe making eye contact. How do I show mercy toward someone of whom I am afraid? On the streets, I pray silently for the needy people that I see, but I wish I knew how else to help. Is it wrong to protect myself instead of reaching out to them? It makes me feel hypocritical, but I don't know what else to do.
1 comment:
It's definitely not wrong to protect yourself. Love always protects, and, in this case, you need to protect yourself first. Working with the homeless is a difficult task and I have to admit that I've become a bit desensitized to it after my time in the tenderloin. I mean, I love what I do, I love the people, etc. But when I leave there and a homeless person asks me for money, I refuse. When they catcall me, I ignore them. I can't meet their eyes, I've seen their pain and yet I don't want it to permeate my life charmed.
Getting over the fear takes time, believe me, I've been between quite a few altercations and its scary to think that bodily harm might come to you when you've done nothing wrong. I guess part of it is you just have to realize that a lot of them feel that way about life, as if its attacking them for no good reason and yet the injury is still there. Yelling is a way to take back autonomy. *sigh*.
Last week I went to the Tenderloin with a christain group at night and we prayed for people and gave roses to the prostitutes. There was this one girl, Sarah, who was pregnant and in a half way home. After I gave her a flower she asked me to pray for her and hugged me. Being hugged and smiled at by someone who has so little is both inspiring and humbling.
I guess my point is you can show love and mercy in the appropriate contexts-- ie when you're with someone else (I was with a few other people)- had I been alone I totally wouldn't have made the jump from walking around on the street to praying, and that powerful encounter wouldn't have occured.
love you dear-- and good luck on finals!
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