It was an ordinary Saturday at Fenway Park in Boston. The streets were exploding
with hoots and hollers. A closer look, however, revealed that no one was engaged
in conversation. Men and women alike kept their eyes either on the ground before
them, or focused straight ahead. Then I saw him. An elderly man was sitting
alone on a stoop. Curious, I wandered over for a better look. A shiver traveled
the length of my spine. Unfortunately, the temperature was not the cause of the
horrible sensation.
Amidst a flowing river of Nikes and Timberland boots, the nameless man wore
shoes that had worn through long ago. Dressed in threadbare rags, he held a
silver coffee can in one trembling hand and his sign in the other. It read:
"Hungry Korean War Vet." As if already dead, the man's eyes were sunken deep in
his head, while a gray tinge painted his somber face. I was reminded of my own
sacrifices made for my country in Operation Desert Storm. For a moment, I
thought that my stomach might actually kick up the two hot dogs I'd just
devoured.
People circumvented the man as if he were a leper. Not one person stopped to
help. Obviously, it was easier to assume the man a con-artist than to find the
truth in his tormented eyes. I somewhat understood. There were still many truths
people did not want to know. In this case, that truth only defined a cold and
uncaring society.
Other passers-by went above and beyond apathy. They were mean enough to leave
behind an insult, or a laugh to stab the poor man's heart. The Vet was too old
and weary to strike back at the masses. Each time a harsh word was offered him,
his eyes closed briefly and then opened again as if he'd completely absorbed the
cruelty.
Fifteen endless minutes elapsed and although the coffee can remained empty, I
witnessed a fellow human being suffer more embarrassment and humiliation than
deserving of an entire lifetime. Whatever dignity remained was greedily and
brutally stripped away by those who, somewhere along the line, were hardened and
left blind.
Suddenly, another unfortunate soul captured my attention. It was another elderly
gentleman; this one, confined to a wheel chair. The man slowly approached a
curbstone, and then worked his chair back and forth in a courageous attempt to
clear the lip. It was no use. Determination and effort were quickly replaced by
frustration and mumbled curses. Through it all, hundreds of patriotic baseball
fans herded around him and proceeded onto their different ways. I stood
paralyzed with shock.
As the numbness wore off, I took two steps to assist, but was one step too late.
The homeless man placed his sign and empty cup on his stoop and went to help
another who needed more. My eyes filled. There was still some good left in the
world. Strangely enough, it always seemed to come from those who were in
desperate need of what they themselves gave so selflessly. For his trouble, the
Korean Vet received a donation. The two shared a genuine smile which apparently
only those in need could understand. The pauper returned to his stoop and the
judgmental gaze of a million cruel eyes. The man in the wheel chair pumped his
arms to another of life's obstacles. I stood amazed. The same chill returned
down my spine.
After placing a crisp twenty-dollar bill in the beggar's can, I received a nod
for my generosity, and then a tap on the shoulder. My brother Randy's raised
eyelids told me that he didn't approve.
During the lengthy ride home, I explained the tragic scene and the topic led to
some unusually deep discussion. Though we were in complete agreement on most
points: Not supporting a person's drug habits and the genuine possibility of
being scammed, I found that Randy shared the strong opinions of most. I, on the
other hand, was less suspicious. There didn't seem a need for it.
We traveled a good distance in silence. I decided that as long as my own
intentions of helping were pure, then I didn't see any risk of injury to anyone.
For the price of a scratch ticket, I'd rather give the man the benefit of the
doubt. The odds seemed better. Besides, it was one of society's problems that
more people should be taking personally. With thousands being swallowed up by
unemployment and homelessness each day, it could have easily been anyone sitting
on that same lonely stoop. Then, placing myself in that man's worn shoes, I only
hoped that someone would be kind enough to take a chance on me rather than the
state's lottery.
Reaching Fall River, my traveling companion broke the silence with a very
innocent question. Though he expected no answer, Randy asked, "Steve, don't you
ever wonder why God has given so much to so few, and so little to so many?"
Surprised that my brother's thoughts mirrored my own, I smiled. The answer
seemed so easy, so obvious. To Randy's surprise, I responded sincerely, "I think
that God has given enough. The problem is that people have forgotten how to
share His generous gifts!"
Needless to say, the rest of the journey was driven in silence, the Boston Red
Sox continued to lose and somewhere on a very cold stoop- a needy man sat alone.
More Than Our Share
out of ghettos, comes the truth with paupers sent to save the world from all its
evils which makes each man a slave; a slave to what he longs for to all that's
bought and sold lifetimes spent amassing wealth collecting jewels and gold
forgetting what he came for his brothers bent in need searching for some
kindness at least a gentle deed but wealth is tough to part with compassion's
just as rare some say, "God didn't give enough!" He did, but we don't share.
Steven Manchester copyright 2002
shmanchester@statestreet.com
Steve wrote "A Letter From the Front", which is found in our July archives, and
is the published author of: THE UNEXPECTED STORM (P.S.I. RESEARCH; HELLGATE
PRESS, 2000) an autobiographical account of Operation Desert Storm - revealing
that some war wounds are invisible, while many are never suffered on the
battlefield.
The Illustrator: This daily newsletter is dedicated to encouraging
everyone to look towards Jesus as the source of all the solutions to our
problems. It contains a daily inspirational story, a Bible verse and encouraging
messages. HTML and plain text versions available.
The Nugget: Published three times a week, this newsletter features inspirational devotionals and mini-sermons dedicated to drawing mankind closer to each other and to Christ.