Why Can’t Beggars Be Choosers?
Featured, Social Justice — By Cary Umhau on February 10, 2011 at 8:00 am
Basically it’s all about the gravy. Some people like it smothering all their food. Others want it only on the meat. Some prefer that it cover their potatoes but not come near the turkey. And a few people don’t want any gravy at all. And trying to keep all of that straight just might be the holiest thing that a shelter worker can do.
Mr. Cooper loves hot sauce, and yet most of the meals served at the shelter are bland. Aamirah is a vegetarian and has trouble getting enough calories because of it. John is simply quirky and won’t eat his corn unless it’s covered in sugar. And yet the folks who dish up the food at one of my local shelters take the time to cater to these overnight guests, at least when time permits, by handing off a bottle of hot sauce or piling up extra vegetables or, yes, sprinkling some sugar over the plate. It’s a potent way to show love, to listen out for and honor the preferences of people who society says could (should?) be told, “Take what you’re offered.”
Our culture subscribes wholeheartedly to the notion that “beggars can’t be choosers.” I say, “Why can’t they?” If Jesus were wandering around encountering “beggars,” he would let them choose something. I’m convinced of it. It’s too sacred an exchange to be missed, the chance to quietly bend to the inclinations or druthers of one of the least and/or lost. It could even be seen as a spiritual discipline – just letting someone else have what they want and foregoing our ability to exercise control by denying them options or even our first fruits.
I know of a clinic in my city where the homeless come, some of them frequently. They are able to pick up a bag lunch, with their own name inscribed on it, and in it is a meal that is prepared by the equivalent of a short-order cook who has taken into account their preferences – “no mayo,” “wheat bread only,” “skip the pickles,” “apples over oranges.” This is sacred.
I watched an exchange outside a restaurant once. A woman in a wheelchair asked various people going in if they would buy her a meal. Mostly people ignored her, though some said, “No.” One family said, “Yes.” To which the woman replied, “Well, could I have it from McDonald’s and not from here?” It sounded like a test. And as far as I was concerned, the family passed the test because they said, “Sure” and took off down the street several blocks to return with a Filet-o-Fish sandwich (I’m partial to them myself.), fries and Sprite. Was the woman messing with them? Who knows? Who cares? She was heard. She was noticed. That was an alchemy that transformed raw materials of money and calories into dignity.
St. Gregory the Great talked about pickiness being a form of gluttony. In our foodie culture, we are obsessed with where our food comes from and whether it’s organic, in season, and fresh. We sometimes would rather skip a meal than have, for example, Thai food a second time this week or would rather eat alone than with friends if the friends are heading to a restaurant that’s not up to our exacting standards. I myself cater to my cravings (even noticing them is a luxury) and then decide “Sushi or salad today?”
Yet we justify our own finicky ways while thinking that the poor, the homeless, the down-on-their-luck should eat moldy bread or day-old offerings with gratitude.
It brings to mind the teaching in James that talks about not giving the best seat in the house to one who is dressed nicely and wearing gold rings and sending the less-grandly adorned to a corner or to be a footstool for someone more important. We practice favoritism all the time, with ourselves as the favored.
We the affluent, give our junk to Jesus and his stand-ins and think they should bow down and kiss our feet when we toss a stained t-shirt their way. In my childhood, I firmly believed that the black maids working in white homes were proud to wear cast-offs because they came from such fine ladies, the matrons of Atlanta.
When someone is merely poor or has been robbed of dignity through losing any of those things that most of us take for granted (the chance to work, a roof over our heads, food on the table, water to wash up in), he typically also has lost the privilege of having options, much less quality. How infrequently most of us realize that options are another form of bounty.
Once in an exchange with a stranger, I complimented her coat. She told me, “I couldn’t afford a coat, so someone bought this for me. And I’m so thankful to have the coat but, honestly, I would never normally wear this color.” And it hit me: I buy clothes that I want and like. Never do I have to wear something that embarrasses me or that I think doesn’t suit my coloring or sense of self or is of shoddy quality.
I am struck anew by the privilege of having choices all day long; that is true wealth. And the rich get richer, while the poor get, well, discards.
The boundary lines have indeed fallen for me, for most of us reading this, in pleasant places. Can’t we move them a little bit for everybody else too?
It all starts with “How much gravy would you like?”
Check out Cary’s blog for more of her writing at www.holyvernacular.wordpress.com.
23 Comments
Amen, Sara. We get so much “junk for Jesus” donated for stuff…it’s simultaneously funny/sad.
My favorite bad thing was the winter coats people donated to aid victims of the Haiti earthquake. I don’t think it’s ever been below 50 degrees there.
If we serve people as if we’re serving Jesus, I think we’d think twice before giving someone crap we don’t want.
Hi Curtis,
Sara’s name was briefly and inadvertently up as author. It’s actually me.
I came to reply to you but then went on a very satisfying rabbit trail over to smurtis.com. Your writing is beautiful. I’ll be a frequent visitor.
I know for myself that I have given crap away thinking that someone would be pleased to receive it. Ouch. I hate seeing myself clearly sometimes!
Cary,
Lovely article! Thanks for perusing my blog as well.
This hit me right between the eyes, especially this paragraph:
“Once in an exchange with a stranger, I complimented her coat. She told me, “I couldn’t afford a coat, so someone bought this for me. And I’m so thankful to have the coat but, honestly, I would never normally wear this color.” And it hit me: I buy clothes that I want and like. Never do I have to wear something that embarrasses me or that I think doesn’t suit my coloring or sense of self or is of shoddy quality.”
Thanks for making me think about this!
It also makes me think about the times when I judge someone, as I often do, and think “Why would they wear that?” Maybe they didn’t have a choice.
A few years ago I read Mike Yankoski’s “Under the Overpass,” which is about his time among the homeless, and it talked about this idea of having choice and how it brings dignity to an individual. I’ve tried to remember this. Most of the time I’ve applied it, though, I’ve been met with indifference. The person tells me it doesn’t matter and then just puts the food away in their pocket. Other times, I’ve simply offered what I’ve had and been told by the person that they don’t like such and such food and they don’t want it. I don’t think I’m trying to be the knight in shining armor, and that my one granola bar or muffin is going to be some huge, life-changing blessing to this person, but I am trying to help. The indifference and refusal makes me question how hungry the person really is. I don’t mean to disparage their situation because I don’t know what they’ve had to go through, but I think hunger in the United States, or at least major cities in the US, is different than in other areas of the world, where people don’t even have clean drinking water.
Yea, it’s hard to know. But I do know for myself that sometimes I snap back at someone who’s trying to help me, and yet some of those sometimes it does actually touch me, even from where I’m hiding or putting up a defense, and I am a tiny bit grateful for their offer, even as I refused it coldly or subtly.
My challenge as a giver is to be pretty indifferent to the response (of course I fail at that).
The difference with some “homeless” people is that some people make their living off of peddling on the offramps. They can make more money doing that than making an honest living. Of course there are legit people in need, but there are more and more frauds out there, and I don’t give to them unless I really feel impressed to.
Throughout my life I’ve been on the receiving end of great generosity. I’ve never been homeless or hungry, but have been in need countless times. I was given things that were discarded but I felt that I had to be grateful because the things were gifts.
I was grateful, don’t get me wrong.
And now that I’m on food stamps, I feel as though people around me might judge me when they see my shopping cart. Yes, I buy organic cheese and I know it’s more expensive and I know I could get “more for my money” if I bought the other cheese but don’t I still have the right to choose my food? Does being on food stamps mean I have to buy cheap food?
I like what you’ve said here. I do think that choice is something we take for granted and so much of the world doesn’t get to choose. We’re sitting at the buffet and it seems appropriate that we give up our seat instead of tossing table scraps.
Diane, I got chills over your last line. Whoa. Powerful.
So right about the choices with food stamps. I’ve been on them for awhile now and while I buy as frugally as I can, I do enjoy splurging on simple pleasures like Moose Tracks ice cream now and then and the more expensive Stash Chai Tea (vs. the cheaper store brand or a plain black tea). I think we can simply enjoy getting the helping hand we need and just ignore the hecklers. If we had to pay for our food out of our own pockets, we might have to live off of Ramen noodles or we might get our electricity shut off because we had to use bill money for food. I think sometimes people don’t understand that. We’ve been given a gift, and I hope they know how much we appreciate it.
Cary, really great article. Thank you.
Just wanted to add, I once got a phone call from someone who worked in an opportunity shop asking me what was with the single mother who rejected the dirty, stained mattress he’d tried to deliver to her house for her and her babies to sleep on. I’d put out the call on her behalf and he was calling me to give me a piece of his mind, because how dare she reject charity, someone in her position. I told him she was my friend, and he was no longer, and called my friend to congratulate her for taking he stand. That incident changed my way of thinking about charity and the church.
It makes you wonder what “charity” means. Breaks my heart to think of a mother being expected to be grateful to put her babies on a dirty mattress when other mothers are having showers and registering for beautiful things that will be outgrown in a finger snap, and it’s our culture’s expectation and enjoyment to fete those who are expecting babies (or having other milestones)…. I wish everyone could have a feast/banquet/party in their honor. Like it will be in heaven — all are invited to the banquet. Thanks, Jo!
Cary,
I loved this.
I loved the having my selfishness exposed big time in my heart. Thank you.
I think this happened about 5 or 6 times….I just kept getting caught in the truth you told. Oh, wow, I have a much longer way to go than I’d hoped.
Thanks for your gentle way of showing me my unloving ways. Ugh.
(PS…I loved the last sentence. Perfect)
Isn’t it odd and beautiful how we can love being convicted of our sin? That is a miracle in itself.
Giving the indigent choice-sounds like the Gospel
Indigent demanding choice-sounds like sin.
Dignity from McDonalds-sounds fishy.
Smiling! As fishy as a fish sandwich.
I liked the article, Cary, but would like to suggest that “beggars can’t be choosers” makes more sense as a guideline for beggars themselves (as in: if I’m in need of basic necessities, being picky about things is probably a bad idea).
It makes less sense as a guideline for would-be benefactors since, as you illustrate, the dignity of choice is a wonderful gift in and of itself.
Good point! Thank you.
Well said.