Dollar in My Pocket
When I started Education for Ministry (EFM) in Atlanta in 2015, I became a part of a special group comprised of people of all genders, ages and varied and fascinating backgrounds. It is a four year program, and the group rotates year to year. At most of the weekly meetings, the group, based on discussions had, would consider what is called a theological reflection.
I’ll come back to this.
I try but am not always successful in having a dollar in my pocket in case someone needs it. A few of the people in my EFM group shared their opinion that I was “making the problem worse” or perpetuating it. My response was that I did not know that that person was not God. We had some colorful conversations about this. One of them, maybe more, would come to EFM later in time and, in a sort of shy and curmudgeonly way, tell me that they had bought a meal for someone who asked for help. This thrilled my heart.
A woman once came to me as I loaded groceries in the car. She told me that she had not eaten in three days. I said, “let’s go inside, and I’ll buy you something to eat.” The woman turned and walked away. I realized that her hunger was not for food.
Another time, while roaming in Avondale Estates, a man was on the sidewalk yelling. He grew louder the more passersby did not respond. I stopped and said “what’s the matter,” and he said loudly, “I’m hungry!” I said, “okay come in here, and I’ll buy you something to eat.” There was a breakfast place right there where I had been before. A friend’s grown daughter worked there at the time and was there that day. The man started telling me how much money he needed for beer. I told him no one was buying him beer that day. He nodded. We sat at the bar while I noticed collective discomfort from the other patrons. I asked his name. He said his mother called him Charles but then gave a nickname that I now cannot recall. I said, “well, Charles, what would you like to eat?” He ordered and began eating with relish. My only regret is that I did not stay with him until he was finished.
In 2018, my husband and I went to Italy for a glorious two week trip. We started in Rome, dropped our bags at the Airbnb which was still being cleaned and made tracks to get the first installment of many helpings of gelato. While walking to the Pantheon, two women in front of a church rushed towards Bryan and then rushed away. Bryan stopped and told me his wallet had been stolen. (We have heard story after story from friends about this being so common and happening to them).
I stayed in front of the church where the two women still were while Bryan went to find a policeman.
Two things are noteworthy here. One is that in all the charitable examples I provided above, that spirit of charity was replaced by rage. White hot rage. I was furious at the two women, one of whom had the gall to hold out her hand to me. I held out my hand to her. I was certain that they were responsible. Who knows if that is true. It makes me think of Anne Lamott in Traveling Mercies stating something along the lines of feeling so much hatred in a moment that it would make “Jesus want to drink vodka out of the dog bowl.”
The other thing was that trying to find the police station felt like an episode of The Three Stooges. We spent hours trying to find it thoroughly jet lagged. When we did, it was pretty anticlimactic.
At the end of the day, it was just money. It was an inconvenience. Really. We were able to call our bank, cancel cards, make them aware and carry on with our trip. I would be lying if I said that I don’t remain wary of Rome.
When I next went to EFM, I told my beloved group that I was a contradiction. I shared this story. In the theological reflection, the message that surfaced after much discussion and discernment is that we don’t like it when beggars don’t behave the way we want them to. I laughed out loud at myself.
Who knows what those who steal are experiencing, how scary or threatened their lives may be. My job is to work on forgiveness because resenting what happened or who I think was involved will only hurt me.
I still try to have a dollar in my pocket.
Journal Prompts to try:
Describe a time you felt like a contradiction.
Describe a time you held onto resentment and then realized you needed to let it go.
What is your idea of charity?
Let me know how it goes. I’d love to hear from you!