The Folly of Charity

After a pleasant evening at Lambton Centre's Volunteer Appreciation Dinner, Shelley and I and the kids returned home to find a homeless man, we'll call him "G.", looking for the minister. He was trying to get to Tiverton, on Highway 21 north near Kincardine. I asked if I could at least get my kids settled into bed (let alone out of the cold and into the house) before meeting with him. He turned in a huff and prepared to stomp off, muttering about how no one would help him.

Really, I should have just let him go then. Instead, I invited him to get warmed up in the church, started the kettle boiling and ran home. I called Norm, explained the situation and asked he'd come over to help out (because Shelley didn't feel safe with me alone with the guy - I was a little leery myself). I made a couple sandwiches and packed some granola bars, fruit and drink because G. had asked for some supper.

Norm got here and we headed over to strategize some ideas. My early sense was that G. was looking for an excuse to get angry and blame someone else for his situation. We got an earful about how no one is willing to help someone in need, how we should be ashamed of ourselves, that people in churches don't live up to their religion.

We asked a number of times what he wanted, what we could do to help. He never came out and asked for anything specific. We had to pry it out of him that he might want a place to stay the night, maybe the Glen-Rock Motel? I called over but they were fully booked. And then he got angry that we didn't offer to give him a ride. (At no point did he ever ask for a ride. Even when I pointed this out to him).

It seemed that he'd decided a while ago that we weren't going to help him and this was going to be a waste of time. He was resolute that we'd be responsible for his freezing to death tonight. He left declaring how ashamed he was of people, and I was genuinely sorry that the help we tried to offer wasn't enough.

I'm trying to see things from his point of view, of being ignored or treated as a second-class citizen by government and society, but it's hard to imagine. His continual rebuffing of our attempts to help or listen grew frustrating. His angry suspicions and assumptions showed a self-martyring refusal to accept any accountability.

Had we given him a ride to the highway as he wanted, or even to Thedford as we were willing to do (had he asked, or accepted), that wouldn't address the underlying problem. It just would have moved him to someone else's jurisdiction. How can we move from giving a hand out to offering a hand up?

For the record, G. didn't take the lunch that I packed for him.