The Community Homeless Chair

On El Camino Real, the main drag near where we live, there's a major intersection right next to Stanford University's shopping center. The road and intersection are large enough for a median between northbound and southbound traffic, and because of the area's general affluence, the close vicinity of Stanford, and the abundance of motorists, cyclists, and pedestrians, it is what you would call one of those "crossroads of life"...a place that, whether big like a city square, or small like a street corner, different walks of life converge.

On the way to church this morning, I glanced at the median as we crossed the intersection, well aware that more often than not, a homeless person is sitting at that median. At that moment, no one was sitting there, but rather an empty chair that faced traffic heading the opposite way. As we whizzed by the chair, a phrase stuck in my head: "community homeless chair."

Granted, I've never seen that particular chair there before, but since so many homeless frequent that spot, asking for help, it made me wonder: does a chair - something commonplace to us, but a luxury to the homeless - get shared amongst them? With so little in the first place, perhaps the chair has one owner. Or perhaps it is meant to be used by any homeless person that occupies the median. It prompted the curious thought in me, that even the homeless might not share possessions with each other.

Growing up, I adopted the idea that homeless people were lazy and needed to "get a job." And why not? Wouldn't a day or two on the streets compel them to beg the local McDonald's for a job? Couldn't they clean themselves up and at least try to fit in to normal society? And why would they have the gall to ask functioning, self-sustaining members of society for a dollar?

After I became a Christian in high school, my mood shifted. Along the way, I learned that it wasn't so easy. And in an "aha!" moment, I realized that I, too, have gone through a down and out period in my life similar to the homeless, and had I not been a teenager and in the same town as my parents, my situation would have been eerily similar.

What had changed in me? First, it was a compassionate heart. It's easy to look down upon the homeless in your heart and mind, and that makes easier to excuse yourself from helping them, if you consider them less than human or respectable in some way.

I learned that it's not as easy as showing up to McDonald's and getting a job; most places of employment require an address of permanent residence, which is not a luxury of the homeless, and in many cases it's as simple as that.

Harder still is to find a place to maintain hygiene, by washing oneself or his/her clothes. Not many restaurants or stores will take someone reeking of urine. Yet when urinating on yourself keeps you warm on a cold night, you aren't too concerned about keeping appearances in the first place.

And what about drugs? The educated masses of America publicly denounce drug use, even while their youths experiment with it - some developing addictions. But homeless culture is much different than our insulated neighborhoods. The shame and depression of becoming homeless, coupled with chronic, untreated medical conditions, along with a host of other reasons, makes drugs a very necessary escape for the man who has little else. It forces me to put down an accusing finger and want better for that man who lives from fix to fix.

I understand that not everyone who reads this shares my religious beliefs, but there is great truth to Jesus' words, often interpreted as the golden rule: love your neighbor as yourself. On a small level, we do this with others of the same socioeconomic status, giving and receiving music or dvd's, borrowing vehicles on moving day, and so on. But what happens when we try to love a neighbor without a home? Most of us are paralyzed by the chasm of money, of appearance, of reaching out to someone who isn't "normal."

There's great blessing in store for anyone willing to leap the chasm and offer a dollar, a meal, a listening ear, to the least of us. It starts with an attitude shift, a willingness to share what we have with someone, and taking the risk to look or be considered a fool by others. How many of us decide against giving money to a homeless person because we're afraid they'll use it on booze or drugs? I am a big believer in God's justice, in that anyone who takes advantage of another will have to answer for it, and not to our face, but to God's. If I give a twenty dollar bill to a man who claims to need a meal, and he turns around and buys some cocaine, he has lied to me, and I likely won't see him again.

And yet, it is not our job to punish or judge him ourselves, is it? However, it is our job to love our neighbors, and if that means they'll use our money on drugs or alcohol, maybe we acknowledge that those are the things the homeless man thinks he needs to survive. Sometimes, it is a good thing to let someone sustain themselves on less-than-healthy things, if that's all they've got...if that's all they'll settle for.

Making a change for the better in this world starts at those crossroads of life, starts with an attitude shift toward compassion. And when those meet with an opportunity, that's when we see steps taken toward that occupied chair on the median, toward the hardscrabble soul sitting in it, willing to play the fool so that another may have relief.