FROM THE BOUNDARY

Though it sounds a little odd, I have in mind to write what I’ll call ‘A Book of Beggars’, a volume of poetry and prose illustrating the beggars of Bridgetown who, since 1998, no longer commit a criminal offence by ‘simple’ begging. I suppose for many people beggars are thought of as moral delinquents, or slackers, or mentally ill, or petty criminals, or drug addicts, or all of these, or simply nuisances, or even, God forbid, ‘sinners’. Years ago, driving with a priest friend, we saw a beggar standing at a junction. My friend told me that you had to be so careful giving money to beggars because they would use it to buy drugs. I met exactly the same response from another respected professional, 20 years on, at the last church where I celebrated Mass when somehow, in a sermon on what it is to be a “true Christian”, I gave the people something of the centrality of beggars to the Gospel we live. The upshot of these two responses is simple. You don’t give money to beggars. They are nuisances who’ll be asking for more tomorrow, and who’ll be using what they have to buy weed today. St. Paul – ‘if you don’t work, you don’t eat’ – would signal his approval in a letter.

 

Now I’m not talking about what are called ‘voluntary beggars’, those ‘Fools for Christ’ who’ve simply renounced the comfort of family in order to serve Jesus, people like St. Francis, or St. Benedict Labre who begged his way across France to reach Our Lady of Loreto, or the pilgrim beggar who prayed his way through Russia reciting the Jesus Prayer. These voluntary, itinerant beggars, who often engaged in menial labour or preaching, are to be seen as ‘working’. I suppose buskers fall into this category. St. Thomas Aquinas said they have a right to receive wages, and so the receipt merely of alms is an act of humility on their part, unless they beg from avarice or sloth. Nor, of course, am I talking about the Anglican Church, say, raising money for a farewell concert; or even – well, just – those, often children, who stand outside stores seeking sponsorship money, though these may raise difficult questions.

 

No, those who might be said to beg from avarice or sloth are the very people I’m talking about, as also our one-to-one responses to them. I’m not referring to the responses of those wonderful charitable organisations, like the Barbados Vagrants and Homeless Society, which seek to rehabilitate vagrants into society. No, it’s me or you eyeball to eyeball with Gordon or Trevor in Broad Street, or Forbes in High Street, or Stanley in Magazine Lane, or beloved Roger wherever he is.

 

 Well, I say “eyeball to eyeball” – is that you? Do we give our beggars the respect we give each other? When we see them, what do we see and feel? Do we think of them as outcasts to be shunned or the biblical remnant to be cherished? Do we avert our eyes and pass by on the other side? Do we give a new meaning to the phrase ‘poor in spirit’?

 

You know, the most memorable remark I heard as a student at Codrington came from John Thompson, a Canadian lecturer who would have made a marvellous chaplain. He said to me, “You know how to recognise a Christian? He’s not the man who says ‘There but for the grace of God go I’. He’s the man who says ‘There go I’” The nice students said John couldn’t teach and secured his removal. I treasure his interest in me. But there you have it: ‘There go I.’

 

The beggar’s face, you see – well, if you look – is your face. It’s the face God sees before He blinks twice and reminds Himself how precious you are. The face of the beggar confronts who we all are, and his body, as repellent as it might be, is only a whisker away from ours. Yes, it’s the body of Christ, dishonoured and rejected.

 

If we give, we make ourselves very humble, and the giving is an act of penance for our own nonsense, which the world calls ‘sin’. Did you know that Pope Leo the Great said that those who don’t come to the aid of a hungry person are assassins? ‘Ah yes’, you might say, “but isn’t everything possible with God? Surely, He’ll take care of them”. Of course – but He acts through you and me because He’s part of us. That’s not a reason for self-congratulation. So, look into the beggar’s eyes and give, and then move on without a thought. Let it all be as natural as blowing your nose. The simple act of gratitude to God for the opportunity is enough.

 

Moreover, His gifts are for sharing. If He offers us the most wonderful hospitality in this little world He shares with us, how then can we refuse it even to those we sneer at nose up? It doesn’t really matter why the beggar is there in his poverty and wretchedness, with his hand outstretched. His hand is still Christ’s hand, and our hand, and in giving we give to Christ. And with that hand, he teaches us what compassion is.

‘Yes’, you will say, ‘but won’t he spend the money on drugs?’ Maybe. Does it matter? Must you judge him in your ‘godliness’? Isn’t his life pitiful enough whatever its cause? Surely ‘living’ is not just eating, and giving is not ‘correcting’. You’re not there to change his life. Call it his ‘little comfort’. Don’t you have yours? Some say they’ll buy the beggar food rather than give him money. Well, it’s your money and if you want to give with conditions attached that’s up to you. However, remember, he’s not your servant. He’s not there to lick your shoes. He’s a free man like you. Can’t you give him even that much respect? Benevolent despotism is still despotism, after all. Are you going to stand over him while he eats?

 

Of course, there are difficult moments. In particular, there are those who persistently follow you about, grinning, insisting they’re old friends, telling you that they have to ask you something – in other words, those who put you under pressure and see you as an easy ‘take’. This is ‘aggravated’ begging. For good or ill, I’m afraid I walk away. I won’t give if a gun’s at my head. It destroys the purity of giving. Maybe I’m wrong.

Two years ago, my friend, Trevor the Beggar, ‘Marched for Jesus’ with me; and also when Bobby led one of his Poverty marches. I care for Trevor very much. He reminds me that underneath we’re all begging for something. 

 

Go safely then, until the next time.

 

Paradox from the boundary: The Christian “cannot and must not remain on the sidelines in the fight for justice” (Pope Benedict XVl). Well yes, I did ‘march for justice’ – from the boundary. Oh and so did a number of my old Poverty Law pupils, now attorneys. I’m still very proud of them.