Our streets

I am often asked, “Do you see Christ in the homeless?” A very Christian question, just painfully discriminating. Where does that question come from? A Christian either sees Christ in persons, or sees not. A Christian was supposed to be most proprioceptive and situation-aware—palpating the signs of the times looking out for lepers of the day; we invent a new class of lepers instead. We invent a new class of lepers as the infinitely absorbent sponge for us to offload all our grievances.

We should just stop targeting a section of our society, exploiting them for our exercise of ‘trying to see Christ’ in others. We’ve got more fundamental homework to work on.

Driven by curiosity some like to quiz on my encounters. Once I related how I was rained with, “God bless you! God bless you!” from behind even after I had said goodbye, turned around to head home. A friend found that so ticklish that she couldn’t stop laughing. For her it was as funny as animals uttering an English sentence in an entertaining cartoon.

What is so funny about that? If we tell each other, “God bless you!” why can’t somebody camping on the streets say the same? To her these people are subhuman. And she has on her LinkedIn x numbers of years serving in a ‘homeless ministry’. And that’s the problem with all these ministries and charities: they make sure Lazarus stays under the table and never get up. They tell Lazarus to hang in there.

I decided to quit that way of charity. Rebalancing my portfolio as a donor, the formula is easy. Without reservation I will support shelters or rehabs where I may occasionally check-in for a bed. I will fund meals where I may dine at the table. I will fund shower facilities which I may drop in for a wash.

The point is if I don’t like to go on bunk beds why should anyone be conditioned to one? In case bunk beds are all our resources can afford, who am I to be excused? What for run services if I pack people on bunk beds then I myself retreat to a protected, exclusive space upstairs?

If I walk into the bagel shop and the servers readily recount my preferences and lovingly make me my favorite breakfast, can I forget that individuals queuing for meals have preferences too?

If friends for the mildest discomfort in a joint deliberate on whether to see a chiropractitioner, an osteopath, a physiotherapist or an acupuncturist, do I sum up as mental health the diverse needs of the communities on the streets?