The Least of These and Me

The only thing worse than finding your cupboards empty on Saturday is finding them empty on Sunday. I made a trip to Macey's to pick up a few items to get me through the next week or so, and as I was loading my groceries into my car, someone pulled into a spot near mine and honked their horn. I looked back to see if I recognized the car; when I didn't, I turned back to my car. The honking continued, and when I looked back again the driver motioned for me to come over. The passenger window was down, and as I lowered my head to see what was up, I saw an old man, his skin dark and creased, well-worn and beaten by the sun. He started talking, and though I could hardly discern what he was saying, I managed to piece things together. (I probably hadn't had to struggle to understand an elderly person like this since returning from my mission in Brazil almost three years ago). Apparently, the man had been in the hospital recently and tried to explain to me that something was wrong with his eyes. He held up a few small pieces of paper with written instructions from a physician. I managed to decipher the handwriting and discovered that the man had an appointment later in June for cataract surgery. He held up another paper, and I could tell that it was an order for a prescription. He told me that he had tried to have the prescription filled, but it would cost $28 and he only had a pair of fives. When he said that, he held up the two five-dollar bills, and asked if I could help him out. I didn't have any cash on me - I almost never do, except when I have to do laundry - and I told him that I didn't have any cash. When I said those words, he threw his money down onto the seat of his car. I told him I was sorry, got in my car, and drove away.

I am always bothered when people solicit me for money and I have no cash to give them. I'm not bothered by the request; I usually wish I could help them a little, but in this era of direct deposits and debit cards, it takes more effort to get cash than it is worth putting forth. There aren't that many people who solicit money in Provo, but, interestingly enough, it has happened to me most frequently in the parking lot at Macey's.

I remember an incident on my mission when someone approached my companion and me and told us a story about how he had had some back luck and didn't have enough cash for the bus fare to his hometown. His story seemed very credible, and I wanted to believe him. I decided to help him and gave him some money, not a lot, but enough to actually help him. We also gave him a Book of Mormon and a pass-along card and told him to look up the Church to repay us, so to speak. I don't know if he ever opened the book later or tried to contact the missionaries. Maybe he pulled a quick one on us and suckered me out of my money. I don't know and likely never will, but I don't think it really matters what he did. What matters is that I tried to help him and did it, I believe, out of good intentions. Maybe he used the money to purchase drugs or alcohol, I don't know. Another time, in the same area, a man came up to us and asked for money, telling us his family didn't have any food to eat. His story was a little less believable, but my companion and I decided that if his family really didn't have any food, we would do our best to help them out. We told the man to come to a small store with us, and we would help him get some food for his family. We didn't buy much, maybe a bag of rice and some beans, but if they truly were going hungry, it would have been sufficient to help ease their suffering. We tried to get the man's address so we could share a message with his family, but he seemed ill at ease with that idea. He ended up leaving quickly, and we never saw him again. We figured he'd tried to pull the wool over our eyes and secure some drinking money, and we had to laugh at how, if that were true, we had ruined his plan.

Returning to what happened to me today at Macey's, my conscience piped up as I was driving away. I felt like I probably could have done something more for that old man even though I didn't know what, but there was one thing that really bothered me about our exchange. When he held up his $10 and asked for my help and I could only tell him that I didn't have any cash, he immediately threw his money down on the car seat. He did it so quickly and almost automatically that it caught me off guard. Not only that, but it seemed such a disgusted gesture, like he was offended when the complete stranger he flagged down with his car horn in a grocery store parking lot didn't offer to buy his prescription drugs. He didn't seem disappointed with my answer; he seemed angry, almost like he was entitled to my money because he asked. He could very well have needed help, but I didn't have any to give him and am not in an extremely stable financial situation currently. If he had responded differently, mumbled a "thanks anyway" or something like that, I would have felt really bad for not being able to help him.

In the 25th chapter of Matthew, Christ teaches that whenever we feed the hungry, give a stranger a room, clothe the naked, or visit the sick, we are doing those things unto Him. "Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me" (Matt. 25:40). Likewise, whenever we turn away one of our unfortunate brethren, we turn away the Lord. These scriptures, along with what we learn in the Book of Mormon, particularly in Mosiah 4, have had a large impact on my life and point of view regarding the treatment of the downtrodden and needy. I wish I could help more people; I like the feeling of helping others, not that I am anything special, but there is satisfaction and joy in helping our fellowmen and women enjoy this life a little more. I've never felt a greater sense of purpose in life then when I was focused on serving others; I think the times when I felt most directionless or confused with life could have been prevented had I not been so utterly focused on myself and my wants and needs. It's paradoxical that when we help others and forget about our selfish desires and preoccupations, we actually achieve greater clarity and insight into our lives and how we can improve them. Somehow we find the answers we need precisely when we stop dwelling on how much we need those answers and start thinking about other people.

I could use some of that clarity right now. I'm in a situation where I have a lot of time to myself, to use however I see fit. The future looms ahead of me, dark and uninviting, like a distant yet quickly approaching thunderstorm on the horizon. I have some very important decisions to make (where to go to grad school, whether I enter a Master's or PhD program, whether I will proactively seek to make my living as a writer or merely write on the side, etc.), and as the time for making them approaches, it will be very easy for me to focus all my time and attention on myself and my future. Obviously, I want to make the best decisions for my future, but I'm afraid that will be difficult if I fall into the snare of selfish preoccupation. "Then volunteer or something like that," you might be saying. And I respond with an "easier said than done." Truly serving "the least of these [our] brethren" requires more than a few hours a week. It's not an action repeated weekly, monthly, or even daily; it is an attitude. True Christian service is an offshoot of charity, the kind of love Christ manifested in everything he did. Obtaining that level of love is not an easy task. I have felt it at various points in my life, but I have yet to make that exalted type of love a permanent fixture in my life. It's something I want, but I'm forced to wonder how long it will take and how many people I'll dismiss with the phrase "I don't have any cash" until I obtain that kind of love and will truly be capable of serving and helping my brethren and, ultimately, helping myself become the kind of person I know I need to be.