Thursday, October 22, 2015

Agape

I have a confession to make: I'm not doing it right.

Sure, I try. Sure, I do everything I can to ensure that I try to catch every opportunity to minister that comes my way. But on the road from here to there, I've discovered something.

First of all, understand this is about me and my journey. It's not about your journey, and not meant to be a judgment or a condemnation in any sense. If it helps you on your journey, take it, use it. But this is about my journey and my own observations.

I noticed a group of "dirty kids" in the parking lot today. I ambled over to help them because I know that a lot of folks won't. And because I genuinely have come to love the ones I've met, and figure that maybe that dollar I give the ones I come across will be paid forward just enough to scratch the palm of the fellow I met six months ago on the road to Santa Fe. Or the young couple busking on the corner of a dusty street.

And when I'm walking away, I can't help but think of all of the opportunities I've missed. The people who inflicted genuine hurt, genuine pain that I refused to simply pile up at the cross. The fellow who cheated me on the car deal a ways back. The family whose inaction towards their own family member's actions brought about a very dark period I wasn't sure I would quickly escape. Those people.

The people just as deserving, just as in need, just as missing of a vital piece of their lives.

I remember some years back when encountering a child with Down Syndrome. This kid was, as most I've met with Down Syndrome, incredibly loving, but had a serious drool problem. And I have a serious aversion to such things. As he reached his arms around me and I felt the slimey drool on my arms, and on my clothes, I realized that I could not in any way outwardly express this aversion for fear of hurting the feelings of the young man. I returned the embrace, the inner cringe slowly starting to release, as I realized it was for just these  occasions that soap and water were invented.

And when he walked away, I found myself in not so big a rush for soap and water. The kid had taught me a lot.

Agape love, true love, is sometimes dirty, sometimes nasty, sometimes the epitome of what we fear. But it is always right and it is never focused on self.

May I learn to be an agent, not of compassion, but of genuine, heartfelt, agape love. May I get it right.

Sunday, October 18, 2015

Should the Poor be Embarrassed for their Poverty?

We had a discussion today in church that turned to poverty and the approaches to it. Someone stated that the poor deserve to be embarrassed for their poverty.

It was all I could do to bite my tongue. But in the context of the situation, it was the only response appropriate at the time. This is not a conversation on which I will sit silent for long, though, and so I am addressing it here.

First of all, we must think of what poverty is, and what it is not. Poverty is caused by a variety of problems. Sometimes it is genuine laziness, but more often things like mental illness and an overwhelming sense of hopelessness lead people to situations where they are in poverty. Neither is a situation where we should feel it appropriate to "embarrass" the person who is caught in poverty.

First, humiliating someone is an ultimate act of condescension. We treat them (and, indeed, many people see them) as being less worthy, or of lower character, than ourselves. There is nothing Christlike in this response, and there is nothing compassionate about it.

We may as well tattoo them or otherwise mark them so that we can spit on them. Suggesting that we should humiliate them shows an ugly side of humanity that we need to be rid of.

Then there is the very real likelihood that if we accompany assistance with humiliation, people who are genuinely needy and deserving of that assistance will refuse it because they do not want to be shamed. But the people who are genuinely mooching won't care. This means we're doing the exact opposite of what common sense dictates: we're ensuring that the people who need the help the most are the least likely to receive it.

So how should we approach it? Well, first, I believe charity should be privately administered, ideally. The church abandoned its role a long time ago, and I don't see high profile religious leaders chomping at the bit to reclaim that role (Pope Francis being an exception). If we can treat every case of poverty individually, we can help identify the problem, and, ideally help create a solution. This means, instead of embarrassing the poor, we are empowering them.

Maybe it's a mental or physical health issue that needs to be treated. Maybe it's addiction. Maybe it's job training, or resources that need to be provided. Maybe (as in the disabled) it's equipment to accommodate their needs. Maybe it is simply a listening ear. A heartfelt approach to poverty will be very hands on. And it will be very ugly from time to time, which is probably why so few are willing to undertake it.

Second, we need to see ourselves as equal to every poor individual. Not greater than, not less than, but equal. As Christians, we worship a Savior who discarded his Godly form to take his place among us. Do we really feel we are deserving of a higher standing?

The solutions to poverty are complex, and we will never find them in our lifetime. But we should never stop trying, and we should never develop our policy around the idea that the poor deserve to be embarrassed or humiliated.