Gift

Okay, some of you know I've been going to church. I'm not sure why, but I'm enjoying it. I still can't say I believe in God, at least not in a way that feels more real than saying I believe in Bigfoot or The Great Pumpkin.

And I do find that, through the proper lense, almost any of the major religions seem to scratch the same itch. I guess I'm kind of the flip side of 'Life of Pi,' the atheist edition of a guy who loves all relgions so much he can't choose.

This church is unusual. It's the only church, maybe excepting a Russian Orthodox one I hung out at in high school, where I don't feel uncomfortable. And I've been uncomfortable in plenty of them, don't worry. Betcha I've tried your denomination: I've done Methodist, Baptist, Pentacostal (where I was the lone white guy, way uncomfortable, though I'd love to enjoy my religion so much), non-denominationals, Catholic, Russian, Greek and Serbian Orthodox, Friends, etc. And for an atheist who generally avoids church, I'd say that's a fair sampling.

So this church, one thing that impressed me is I couldn't recall ever hearing a preacher tell me to keep my wallet in my pocket. But that's the message: the offeratory isn't passed like a hat, but is a couple of boxes that are expressly for the regulars, those who consider this their church home. Visitors are actually discouraged from giving.

I know, who knew such things could happen?

But if that's radical, last Sunday was revolutionary. The sermon was a part two on finance. Specifically, it closed with the theme of giving.

And the Sermonator, he closed by saying it was his idea, originally, to pass a reverse offertory. But it wasn't in the budget.

But then a member got wind of it, and that it was vetoed for budgetary consideration, and offered to donate a $6,000 bonus he'd received to cover it.

They passed the baskets, the first time I've ever seen the sort of deacons-moving-row-by-row there. I don't think they even have deacons, really. Everyone took an envelope, which contained anything from $1 to $100.

The rule:, you couldn't spend it on yourself or your immediate family; you couldn't give it back to Heartland (though other churches were okay), and you have to be accountable. Which I guess I'm being right here:

I passed a bum in Nichols Park on the Plaza a few months ago. I was there with my kids, checking out the sculptures and taking pictures.

This guy, he was a shred of humanity if I ever saw one, sitting quietly on a park bench with a couple of bags that were probably his entire earthly net worth.

He asked me if I could help, and I didn’t respond, I just walked past with my daughters. They didn’t ask me what he wanted or why I didn’t give it to him, we just moved along. I had just fed my daughters at the Nelson’s Roselle Court, a lunch that ran almost $50 for three people, and I had plenty of folding money in my hip pocket.

I could easily have given him five bucks. More, really, but five without missing it at the time. It’s been bothering me ever since. What was I afraid of? That he’d buy booze with it? It’s not like there isn’t a fair chance I’d buy booze with it myself.

I used to have a very hard attitude about panhandlers. It seemed obvious that their problems were their own doing. Which might be true on some levels, but that assumes we all have the same strengths and weaknesses. I’ve come to see that pretty much all people do their best, but sometimes that best doesn’t cut it. Including my best, which is the part that makes it a hard lesson.

So when I got my envelope out of the reverse-offertory, I knew where it was going. My finances are leaner today: I lost my job a few days before Christmas, and after six weeks of no income at all (I even turned out to be ineligible for Unemployment), the job I ended up with pays substantially less than the one I lost. Giving money away hasn’t really been on my mind lately. Still, my life hasn’t even threatened to be one where plastic bags on a park bench can represent my entire insulation against the world.

I set out to find the bum I’d ignored. I drove around the Plaza and Mid-town but I didn’t see him. Then I decided it didn’t matter if it was him in particular. It would be the first homeless sort I spotted.

I saw a woman with three duffel bags and a couple of plastic grocery bags in a little mini-park at a corner. But I couldn’t see just giving her the dollar that had been in my envelope. I wished I’d thought ahead better and gotten some more cash to add to it. I know, for someone on the street a dollar matters, but I’m sure she needed more, much more.

I found two singles and some change in my pockets. The change, I wasn’t sure if it would be insulting, but there was over a dollar’s worth of it, so I included it.

I’m glad for Larry Stewart, the Secret Santa dude, because he gave me the script for this. Here I am, walking up to a total stranger, and I don’t want her to feel like an object of pity, I just want to help. I used a script I recalled from an interview with Larry, and said, ‘Someone told me to give this to you.’

She thanked me, and I said ‘God Bless,’ and walked away. For someone who’s still not sure ‘atheist’ isn’t the best description of his faith, this seems odd to say. Yet it felt completely natural. I called over my shoulder, ‘I wish it was more.’

And I do wish it was more. I don’t know that I’ll always give money to beggars, but I sure won’t be walking past them and pretending I didn’t see or hear them.