A guest post by Theo Hafner-Evangelisti.
“Can you help me out, sir? Can you spare some change?”
Last summer I attended a conference on 8th Street, in southeast Washington, DC. Afterwards, as I was returning to my car in the sweltering noon day heat, I came upon a woman panhandling for money in front of a convenience store.
I get scores of requests weekly as I make my way through the city. As a
consequence, choosing to whom I will offer a dollar or two, or on occasion more,
is done almost unconsciously. I seem to have developed a distinct proficiency for
determining who is a scam artist, who has the capacity to be violent to get or take what they want, who is high on drugs, who is getting ready to buy more booze, and who is clean, sober, and simply one of thousands that has slipped through the cracks of family and society and become yet another faceless, nameless person to most of us, living on the far margins of our lives.
For whatever reason, as this woman solicited my help, I replied as if a button was
suddenly pressed upon a region of my brain that initiated a monotone recording
stating, “I’m sorry, ma’am.” It took about half a second to dismiss her and walk
past and around the corner and out of her life forever. However, something
tugged at my heart and urged me to return to the woman who I had barely
glanced at only a moment before. I wheeled myself around, found her where I had left her, and said, “Ma’am, can I give you something?” She gently replied in a raspy voice, “Yes, that would be nice.” I pulled out a bill, gave it to her, and asked if she would do me a small favor.
She replied yes. I asked if she would say a prayer for a special intention of mine.
She looked up at me, affectionately smiling a mostly toothless maternal-like grin,
as if I were now her son, not some stranger; she grasped my hand with a
mysterious strength. This surprised me, but I felt calm and comforted. I said, are
you a believer? She replied, “Oh yes.” I immediately noticed that her grip was
warm and firm, and her countenance was quickly transformed from meek, timid,
and seemingly helpless, to confident, dignified, and strong. She sweetly prayed
for my special intention, added a request of her own for my well-being, and
closed the prayer, “In Jesus’ most holy name we pray.”
An immediate sense of elation surged up and down my spine and into every
circuit of my brain; I felt euphoric! I gushed out the words, “You are an amazing
blessing for me today, ma’am. Do you realize that?” She smiled broadly and told
me her name was Marianne. I found this curious because I had not asked for her
name, but in the moment it seemed important to her that she communicate this
to me. As I sauntered away to continue with the remainder of my Saturday,
leaving her where I had found her, I realized that Marianne was used to people
ignoring her, sometimes fulfilling their fleeting sense of obligation to help a fellow
human being, but rarely engaging at a level that she became known to them;
hence the importance of her name.
It is said that the eyes are the window to the soul. When I returned to Marianne, I
looked into her eyes and asked if she could do something for me. My sense is that this small experience of her not needing, but rather being needed, restored her soul to its proper dignity and position in this world. In those brief moments, I
perhaps saw Marianne as God sees her and so many of the homeless with an
inestimable value and inherent dignity. Joy naturally followed.
As I drove out of southeast DC, across the river, and back to the comfortable environs of Arlington, I felt bitter-sweetness. On the one hand, this godly woman had momentarily touched deeply into my life. For this I was terribly grateful and
humbled. On the other, knowing I would quickly return to the busyness of a life of
plentitude, while leaving her on the mean streets to fend for herself, saddened
my heart greatly. For Marianne, like all of us, once belonged to a family as a
daughter, a sister, perhaps a mother.
Are there any Mariannes in your life or in your family that need to have their soul
restored to their proper dignity and position in this great world?
“We think that poverty is only being hungry, naked and homeless. The poverty of
being unwanted, unloved and uncared for is the greatest poverty of all. We must
start in our own homes to remedy this kind of poverty.” -Mother Teresa