The Man in the Parking Lot A man asked me for money the other day. As I came out of my bank, I could see him standing in the parking lot, looking rather forlorn, and smoking a cigarette. Then I saw him walk over to two men who were talking by their car. I knew he was going to hit them up for spare change, and I also knew that he would have enough time to leave them and come over to ask me for money as well. I walked quickly to my car, looking for my keys in my pockets. I knew that the delay in finding my keys would give the man time enough to walk over to me. I hurried to get into my car, and get the engine started. Suddenly I found myself in a really negative mood. “I have no time for some stranger to be asking me for spare change,” I thought. As I was pulling back out of my parking space, the man walked up to my window and gestured to me to roll down my window. I looked at him briefly, then waved him off. I could see him make a frown as I turned away from him and looked over my shoulder to see if I was clear to back up. As I pulled out of the lot, I could see the man walking away from the lot, heading toward the street. “I am way too busy for this,” I thought to myself. “These guys are like pigeons: always hanging around asking for something, always annoying someone, trying to get whatever they can.” I drove off onto Thomas Road thinking this, and feeling very tense and perturbed. As I drove, my sense of disgust for the man (and his kind) began to change to disgust for my own behavior. The night before I had attended a meeting of people who study the teachings of the Hassidic Jews. It was pleasant and peaceful, and I liked being there. A story was told about a man whose business had been suffering under a bad market, and subsequently owed a large sum of money to his landlord. The landlord had warned him that if he didn’t pay the full amount by the next day, he would have the man and his family evicted. Being very concerned about this, as he did not have the money to pay the landlord, he did what many people do in times of extreme need– he decided to go to see the great rabbi. When he got there, the rabbi’s wife informed him that the rabbi was out of town. The man, being very distressed about this, asked her what he should do. She suggested that he go to the school, and see the rabbi’s son who might be able to help him. The man did this, and was taken to a study hall where he was introduced to a ten-year-old boy. The story goes on to tell how the man told the boy of his emergency, and of how the boy’s prayer helps the man. When the man returns to his home, he finds the landlord there already. The landlord tells him of this terrible dream he had where he felt he was suffocating, and when he awoke, he realized that this was how his poor tenant felt. The landlord forgave the man his debt, promised to help him with his business and treat him more fairly in general in the future. I liked the story. At the time, I lamented to myself that our society doesn’t behave like this more often, with more generosity and compassion. In America, we really believe that we can do it ourselves, that we can pull ourselves up by our bootstraps, and that for every need there is some kind of “place” where people can go for help. I know that this is not true: these “places” often run out of resources like food, money, and shelter space. I know that many of the street people we see are ill, mentally and/or physically. Would it have really hurt me to give the man a quarter, when I can waste money on myself with ease? Still, no one likes to feel as though we’re being scammed. I see the same homeless people with their signs on the same corners everyday. I have heard the stories, told with a cynical tone, about the bum on the street who actually owned a car, or a home. I have heard about the crackhead, the slacker, the guy who is just too lazy to work – they all bum money on the street and in the bank parking lot. There is no moral here, so don’t look for one. A great rabbi would no doubt see the hand of God in my experience. What have I learned from this? I was given a great lesson about generosity, and when it came to be my turn, I balked. There is nothing else to say about it. Whoever that man in the parking lot was, I was the heartless cynic, the stingy man. I could easily have given him a quarter, and wished him well. The value of my generosity does not depend on the honesty of that anonymous panhandler. Am I waiting for all the evil scammers in the world to reform before I can be a generous person? How many of us are waiting for the other person to change, to become a better person, before we will? Suppose we all wished each other well? Stephen Barnes

 

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