Rich Woman, Poor Woman

I was rude just now to a beggar. I was leaving the library on my way to lunch and there she was, standing at the bottom of the stairs, holding the hand of a child probably no more than five years of age. As I saw her move towards me, I knew what she was going to ask, as, indeed, she did, very politely: "Do you have any money to help us get some food?" My usual response would have been to shake my head sadly and lie, "No, sorry, I can't help." But this time, weakened perhaps by my own hunger or--just perhaps--by the work that I have been doing with the books of Hours, I didn't. Instead, I snapped at her: "Yes, of course, I do," and started to pull out my change purse. It took a moment because I had forgotten which pocket I had stashed it in (coat or sweater), during which she began thanking me, still very politely. At which point I snarled: "I give hundreds of dollars every year to the local soup kitchen [true, I just made my annual donation last week]. Why don't you go there?" Having at last located my change purse (a gorgeous little red beaded flower thing that I bought down on State Street when Marshall Field's was still Marshall Field's*), I grabbed the first bundle of bills that I could and shoved them at her, hoping that I hadn't in that gesture given my own lunch money away. I didn't want to stand there counting out dollars; I just wanted to get away. And so I did, to the sound of her continued thanks and my screaming conscience.

Here's the question. Which response is worse: my usual polite refusal to help or my rudeness covering the gift of actual money? I don't really know. I feel just as bad now, having given the money, as I usually do when I refuse. And yet, refusing politely--after all, beggars are people, too--does not typically drive me to blog. I'm full now, having eaten my lunch. Did the few dollars (I don't actually know how many) I gave her make enough for her to buy something for herself and her child? Or is she still out there, begging from rich people like me, hoping to get enough by later this afternoon to manage a meal? She could--as I told her, if not with the best spirit--go to the soup kitchen. Does she not know about it? If she knows about it, does she for some reason not want to go there? Is it really my fault that she is hungry when indeed I do give what I can to help feed strangers like her, if not as much as I spend on feeding my own family, then a considerable amount, enough to ensure that I can't, for example, go shopping at Macy's this weekend and buy that new sweater I saw when I was there last Saturday looking for a present to give to another stranger through the women's shelter that our church supports?

I am not trying to make myself out to be more charitable (in the sense of monetary giving) than I actually am. I don't know if I am, on average, more or less generous than the other people in our neighborhood. What I do know is that, however much I give, it is never enough. There are beggars everywhere in our city, usually, like the woman I met this afternoon, wholly polite, standing patiently by their cardboard signs or trying to catch somebody's eye so as to be able to make their plea. Even if I gave every beggar who asked me for help a minimum of five dollars, it would not be enough to buy them more than the next meal. And even if I gave away all that I own, I could not pay more than a handful, maybe a dozen, a minimum (i.e. enough to eat) wage, and then, only for a year, after which we would all be hungry. So do I refuse politely and give nothing? Or do I snarl, knowing how inadequate whatever I give will be, and give anyway? Perhaps the more telling question is, why do I snarl? What, exactly, do I see when someone approaches me, asking for help? Okay, not just help: money. I am more than prepared to give directions or first aid. Even to intervene, as I did once in New York, if someone is being attacked. But ask me for money, and I bristle.

I need to think about this.

*You're supposed to be thinking, "How shallow of her to mention her purse." I felt shallow taking the pittance I was about to hand out from such a gorgeous little trifle that still cost more than I was willing to give to the woman. What should I carry my money in?

[Image for meditation: University of Chicago Library, Special Collections Research Center, MS 348, fol. 73, opening image for Office of the Dead, showing the Rich Man feasting while the dogs lick the Poor Man's sores]