The Opportunity to Get It Right

I was in a hurry on this Friday morning, even though I had awakened in plenty of time to make my way to Morning Prayer by 7:30. I look forward to Friday mornings, mostly because of what happens during Bible study following a relatively solemn worship. No bunch of Bible thumpers are we—we who gather for Bible study. We simply read the scriptures appointed from the lectionary for the day. It is the discussion that unfolds in this group of earnest pilgrims that makes the morning.

As life would have it, especially in this place where cold weather necessarily calls attention to the plight of those who, seemingly shut out for whatever reason, stand waiting for someone to acknowledge them. Yes, for a welcoming hand, perhaps a humane word, they stand waiting. Such was my journey this morning. A grizzly-looking older guy, not unlike me probably, stood well away from the entrance to the donut shop, beyond the two or three metal stands set up for the daily newspaper and a couple of alternative papers that are popular here in Santa Fe. “Can you spare some change for a cup?” he asked. With a sigh, once again, I confronted a dilemma that shouldn’t even be a dilemma. You either give the guy some change, or you don’t. What he does with it is not my concern. I could have bought him a cup of coffee and a donut. I even considered asking the person behind the counter if the store’s policy allows them to give coffee to panhandlers. I didn’t give change, I didn’t ask, and I didn’t buy a cup of coffee or a donut. As I walked out the front door to my warm truck, shortly to be informed by the radio that our low reached 10 degrees this morning, I one more time ignored the call of the guy, “Can you spare some change for a cup?” I suppose he didn’t know that he and I had already failed each other.

During Bible study, our discussion finally came around to the scripture that reminds us: “For the poor always you have with you…” (John 12:8). I had already been reminded of this sad truth in a message from a friend in Texas yesterday. What that message from Texas didn’t address is what we are supposed to do about this truth. Today, the answer was offered by the priest who, along with his wife, leads us on our Friday morning journey. “For unto whomsoever much is given, of him much is required.” (Luke 12:48) There it is. If you want to quote scripture, pointing a finger at one of the saddest truths about our lives, essentially blaming the bereft for their own plight—it’s all about choices some love to say—then remember the whole story. And we might as well throw in one more oft-quoted phrase: “There but for the grace of God go I.” Apparently not from scripture, the exact origin of this scripture-like expression is not known.

I’m always ready to work over myself, quick to do the mea culpa on my failings—in this instance, specifically the plight of the homeless. I failed the guy standing well away from the front door of the donut shop. And not that it made any difference in the outcome, one person this morning pointed out that I had received the gift of recognition. For a moment in front of that donut shop, I was asked to suspend judgment. I was asked not to wonder about how this guy got into his predicament. I was asked for a moment to remember that there but for the grace of God go I. "If any one of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone at her….Go now and leave your life of sin." (John 8:1-11)

I’m not so sure that I want to be let off so easily. Yet, it doesn’t do me or anyone else any good if my words of compassion do not get translated into action. I can hope to do better at the next opportunity. I don’t have to wait for someone standing with outstretched hand. “I tell you with certainty, since you did it for one of the least important of these brothers of mine, you did it for me.” (Matthew 25:40)

My Sunday morning habit before heading off to church is to read the sermon found on the Episcopal Church website. A couple of weeks ago, the Rev. Sister Judith Schenck, who is a retired priest and a Franciscan Poor Clare solitary in the Episcopal Diocese of Montana, laid it down, plain and simple:

“So what does it mean to love your neighbor as yourself? Do we want to have enough food and shelter for basic human survival? Do we want medical care? Do we want an education? Do we want our children to flourish safely and develop into all they can be?

To love our neighbor as ourselves usually requires two things in our culture: a pocketbook and a suspension of judgment.

If you own a house much larger than you need, and you know there are people being evicted in your hometown, what does that mean in terms of loving your neighbor as yourself?

If your closet is full of new or adequate coats, hats, and shoes, and you know there are children in town without warm clothing, what does that mean in terms of the gospel?

If you buy a new car when the old one still works and others can't even buy gas, what does that mean in terms of your total love of God?

If you eat steak and or dine out in restaurants, and you know a third of the world is starving to death, what does that mean in terms of loving your neighbor as yourself?

The list can go on and on. And we fall short.”

(from a sermon authored by the Rev. Sister Judith Schenck, found on the website www.episcopalchurch.org for Sunday, October 26, 2008)

I believe from the deepest part of my being that, if we are paying attention, all day long every day we have the opportunity to realize, to be reminded, of what life expects of us. Don’t worry about religious beliefs. Don’t worry about religion at all. Walk into the donut shop for a cup of coffee, pick up a newspaper, turn on cable television, watch a movie, sit in the park on the plaza of what some call one of the most magical places in the United States. Dig down deep for your sense of humanity, for your sense of goodness, for your moral center. Yes, get over yourself. Ever ready to be touched by how I choose to entertain myself, I was reminded earlier this week of our spirit to make things better in a film set in England during WWII. In the film, the protagonist, a wealthy English widow, observes: “I can’t bear feeling helpless. I always feel there’s something I can do. Sometimes, of course, there’s nothing. (from “Mrs. Henderson Presents”) I do fall short, and I will fall short. But thanks for the gift of recognition and the opportunity to get it right, opportunities presented over and over and over.

The Opportunity to Get It Right—Santa Fe, New Mexico (November 6, 2008)
R. Harold Hollis