The Job Effect

What criteria do you have for deciding who you help and who you ignore?

My tears have been my food day and night, *while all day long they say to me,"Where now is your God?" - Psalm 42:3

I was walking in Manhattan yesterday, enjoying the surprising warmth of a pre-Spring day and I came across several street folk.

It is not unusual to encounter them, sitting in doorways or leaning against the windows of empty shops, but there was something strange about the similarities among them yesterday.

I passed by three men, all in their twenties or thirties.  Each sat in his own space, blocks apart from the others, each with his own hand-written sign, each with a different statement or request.

One had a small dog and he asked for money to feed his "pooch."

One had a sign that said it was not cold today, but he needed money to buy a blanket because he is still sleeping outside.

The last one was busy writing his message, so I didn't get a chance to know what his need was.

What was odd was how the men looked.

That was what undermined their efforts, I think.  With several days' growth forming the beginnings of a beard and floppy, bedhead hair, they looked more like models on the cover of GQ than homeless men.

They did not look the part.

I looked around wondering where the photographers, make-up and lighting teams were.

Gone were the worn out shoes, taped up with duck tape, and the stained, ripped jackets, the torn jeans and most of all, the look.

There is a look of despair that I am used to seeing, a look of hopelessness that festers in the soul of one who has fallen and lost his strength to get back up.

This was a new breed of street people, one that would have done better had they joined together and played instruments.

Why does it matter so?  Why do I need to see the signs of pain before I am compelled to help?

Perhaps it is the Job Effect, that expectation I have that comes from stories that follow someone into despair.  I want to see evidence of suffering to validate their need and justify my action in offering help.

I am conditioned that way, after decades of mailings to save the children, stop the abuse, feed the hungry.

What I should have thought about yesterday was what I have seen in my church.  Some who come have great needs that they cover up.  They make the best of a bad situation, not because they don't want help, but because they have little left other than the pride and dignity they bring with them to this home-like community.

Perhaps the young men yesterday really were in need of help and I failed to acknowledge that.

Perhaps they had to weather the cold night without a blanket or food for their pooch, without a warm jacket.

Perhaps I should have said something like, "Hey, you look like you could use a job.  Come with me and help me."

If they had looked like they were at the end of their hope, I would have slipped them a few bucks and gone on my way, but because they looked like they could come with me, I did nothing.

As each of us walked by, perhaps they were saying something like what the psalmist said, "Where now is my God?"

More to come...

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