Clarification, David, and Confession

When I put a name as the blog entry title, what do you think I do it for? Attention, simplicity, or perhaps because I'm not that creative? Normally, I'd make a joke about all of those being true, but this is too important. I tell you their names and put them as the title because I want you to know that these are real people. These are human beings with faces and names, they matter to G-d; they matter to me. If everyone else in the world forgets their names and forgets their faces, there will always be me and those who read this blog to read and remember these people.

Today I was coming home from church and I was going to consummate my five week-running desire for a burrito from either Chipotle or Qdoba. Due to the construction on the Green line, all the stops on Lake and Wabash are closed down, which makes finding the Chipotle I've been to really difficult. I had just got off at the Jackson stop on the Blue line to transfer to the Green line when I realized that there had to be one of the two burrito places around. I began walking toward the Green line entrance because I knew there was one nearby, but as I kept walking it became clear I was on the wrong street. I was about to turn around and give up when a man waved at me and started asking me for a moment of my time. He told me how he was hungry and only had a dollar...

This week I have a much tighter budget and I really only had money enough to either help this man or get my burrito. I don't say that to brag about how selfless I am, because a part of me is still kind of moping that I didn't get my burrito- I just wanted you all to know that this wasn't just me giving out of my excess and that this was nothing for me. We crossed the street and went into a Dunkin' Donuts.  He looked over the dollar menu and picked out four items, then after the cashier had already swiped my card, decided he wanted an orange juice. David (that was his name) was not making this thing easy. We stepped outside and he thanked me, told me my jacket looks like a cat was rolling in it (because of my hair shedding on it), then asked me if it was possible to get one more thing. Really, David, you want one more thing? We stepped inside Dunkin' Donuts again and he ordered two more things off the dollar menu. He then walked over to the cooler and pulled a Coke out and I was reluctantly willing to buy it for him. When the cashier returned with his second bag of food, the Coke was gone, and then we walked out. That's when I noticed where the Coke had gone. David had stuffed the Coke into his pants pocket and was casually walking out.

I don't know if I should have done something there. A younger me would have yelled at the present day me for being so morally depraved as to watch theft and do nothing. Younger me probably would have even gone so far as to compare it to Kitty Genovese, but petty theft like that just doesn't seem to be the kind of thing I want to make a scene over. Perhaps I should have gone back inside after he left and explained to the cashier what I had witnessed and offered to pay for the Coke after the fact. Now that I think about it, that sounds like the most diplomatic way to handle a ethically ambiguous situation. As I walked towards the entrance to the Green line, I turned back and saw that David was now standing outside the liquor store on the corner and asking people for money (I assume).

Oh, and did I mention that I found a Qdoba? Yeah, turns out it was on the corner and that when I had decided to turn around and give up (until David flagged me down) that I had been just a few steps short of seeing it. I didn't beat myself up too hard over it though, since it was closed anyway.

Now for the painful part of this blog entry. I have a confession to make which may not make sense until I explain and others who read it may be fuming with rage over my foul-up. Those of you who have been reading this blog or have caught up to now will recall Kateja, the 20 year old mother to-be who has no home and no job. I have not followed-up with the information my church gave about ministries who can directly help her get some stability. I could make excuses about how the past two and half weeks I've been having frequent migraines and such, but in reality I have become comfortable. I let my busy, cushy, and comfortable life prevent me from standing in brokenness over the injustice of Kateja's situation. I have sinned against G-d and against my sister, Kateja.

Lord, have mercy on me for allowing myself to become too comfortable that I have neglected a sister You put in my path. I confess to You before all those who read this blog entry that I have sinned and not done the work You called me to do. Forgive me, Lord.

Until that day comes when You will, "wipe every tear from their eye" and there will be no more pain; I cry out to You... O Lord, how long, Lord?

James

Peter and the Hungry Man

Tonight I had a date with someone, a very wonderful someone. The date went well and if this was my personal blog I would be telling all the details, but this blog is for discussing things like what happened afterward. I'm on Wabash walking in the general direction of south when a man stops me and asks me for some change. Truthfully, I told him that I don't carry cash and that I couldn't help him. He started to tell me that he was homeless and needed just a sandwich to get him through. I'm always eager to help people, perhaps to a fault. I walked with him over to the 7-Eleven kiddy-corner and a block from where I ran into him and bought him a sandwich and a bottle of water.

After I made it to the Red line subway station on State and Jackson I sat down on a bench to wait for the 95th/Ryan. The man sitting opposite me got my attention, grabbed my hand in what I thought was a handshake, but instead he kept a firm grip on it. He introduced himself as Peter, began to whimper and moan about how alone he was and how he needed a friend. He told me he was hungry and need some money. The conversation continued with him telling me that even "my people, black people" won't giving him money, saying, "I got nothing". His eyes were bloodshot and his breath reeked of alcohol, so I had already decided that I wasn't going to take a second look in my wallet to see if I had a dollar. That's when Peter said something that shocked me, "I suck dicks, I'll go anywhere you wanna go; make you feel real good". The emotional side of me is instantly repulsed by this proposition and I'm ready to run away like Bush got re-elected for four more years, but instead sat there and listened as he tried to smooth talk me into this transaction. I told him firmly but nicely that I could help him and walked away.

Whether he was going to buy booze or food, I am left amazed that this really happened. You see it on television, the stereotypical stoner who will perform sexual favors for money so they can get their fix, but to have someone proposition you in real life... There's nothing entertaining or worthwhile in portraying it in any light other than what it is: a sickening sign of the desperate need for Jesus. I can already hear the cynical retorts, "People can't eat a Bible" and while I would enjoy snapping back that they could, I recognize that it's important to take care of the soul AND the body. This blog is all about how I am trying to make my soul transformation tangible to the bodies around me who have names and faces as unforgettable as the pyramids themselves. G-d how I long to see the brokenness of this desperate and dying world removed, to see the sick and needy covered in the abundance of Your Providence and love. Lord, do you see the suffering of Peter who, in his brokenness, turns to alcohol and prostitution to try to fix all the things only You can heal? Where were you when Peter was asking me for money, Lord? It seems like for every person I try to help, there are tens of thousands still waiting.

Oh Lord, how long, Lord?

James

Kateja

Today I went grocery shopping. I decided to go shopping at Dominicks since I was going to Best Buy which is kiddy-corner to the grocery store. Having successfully returned the computer mouse at Best Buy, I made my way over to Dominicks when young woman stopped me and said, "Excuse me, sir, could you help me out- I'm trying to a few dollars to eat?" My first thought was to say "no" since I try to avoid giving money directly to random people on the street. I came to a solution of offering to buy her something at Subway. We sat down and I tried to get to know her. Her name is Kateja (Kuh-tee-jah) and she's seven months pregnant. She lives on the South side (although at the moment she doesn't have an actual place to live). With the baby's father in jail and her family absent from the picture, she truly is alone.

Did I mention she's only 20?

It makes me so frustrated, why is Kateja on the streets with a baby on the way and I'm safe and cozy at Shimer College? What did I do to deserve the luxuries I enjoy on a daily basis? It's not fair, it's not right, and so I cannot just sit idly by while people like her go on suffering. No, I can't save her, I'm not Jesus. I can't even pretend that I know what to do or that she should trust me, but I can't just walk on by and do nothing. I decided to take down her full name and number and told her I would get in touch with some people to see if there was anything that could be worked out.

Now that I'm back here, I'm telling you all her story, but even that is only a fraction of what's going on. I sent an e-mail to my church's mercy ministry to find out what ministries we're connected with. Now all I can do is wait and pray that G-d shows Himself to be faithful through this.

Oh LORD how long, LORD?
James