Homeless

Homeless (How I Discern Who to Help)

“Why do you always make an extra plate of food?” I asked my great-grandmother. 

“To feed the hungry,” she said. “We are blessed to have this food, and blessings must be shared.”

My great-grandmother, Cora Lee, who had lived through World War II, didn’t fill her closets with clothing; rather she used that space to store canned goods and water. Even though she only had a small two-bedroom apartment, which she and my great-grandfather shared, a third of their kitchen was occupied by a monolithic-sized, deep freezer. There were 18 children in her family, growing up during the depression; and food scarcity mentality motivated many of their actions. It’s common in large families to witness people fighting over the last scrap of a desired piece of food; but in our family, the last piece was always reserved for the hungry.

Each night, when I was growing up, my great-grandmother, and then her daughter, my grandmother Ella (who raised me), made an extra plate of food for the hungry. I think they saw this as a form of tithing, as well as hospitality, one of the most important messages in the Bible. Oftentimes, we did have an unexpected guest: a cousin, aunt, uncle, friend, or neighbor would drop by around dinner. When no one came, I was given the task to carry the plate across the grass to the apartment that widow McGee occupied. She was a Holocaust survivor who was rescued by the Irish soldier she married, and my very first May/December best friend relationship when I was six years old. If no one came (or wanted) the plate of food, it was wrapped up in wax paper, placed in the fridge and went to work in Great-Granpa’s or Papa’s lunch pail the next day.

I carried this tradition into my adulthood, albeit clumsily, by mostly sharing my fast food, versus home cooked meals (although I share those as well whenever possible). While I’ve been practicing intermittent fasting the past few years and generally limit my food to once a day, I do still eat. I’m a bit embarassed by my dashboard, drive-thru dining habits; but I chock it up to lifestyle, convenience, affordability, and it’s something I’m always working to change. Nevertheless, when I’m out and about, I make a point to share my food with a homeless person, whether it’s something I bring from home or get while I’m out. I typically order the most affordable meal deal and simply share half the items with someone else. If there is no homeless person hanging out at the establishment, I go looking for them; and in my community, I don’t have to look far. When I find someone in need, I give thanks for all I have, I remember our oneness, and I call them by name or as a sibling, “Hey brother/sister, may I share my food with you today?” For if I were in their shoes, which is what empathy calls me to imagine, I would want to feel like an equal to anyone who is helping me and not less than; and what can feel more equalizing than to see each other as siblings, all a part of the same human race?

How do we know when someone is truly homeless versus someone who’s just a lazy bum? I discern who to help based on who is hungry. Discernment is how we make decisions. To discern is to judge without judgment—meaning, to perceive insights, listen to our intuition, receive spiritual guidance, and observe without condemnation.

I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve offered food to a homeless person, and they turned me down; and no one has ever complained about receiving leftovers. I engage with members of the homeless community on a near daily basis. There are about a dozen regulars who occupy Main Street in the beach community neighborhood in which I most often walk. I can usually tell who is truly in need (the vast majority) and who the scam artists are (few and far between). We can’t allow the people who pretend to be in need to make us blind to those who truly are in need.

Most of the time I feel confident that I know who is really homeless, because I see them sleeping on the streets, night after night. They have layers of dirt on their skin, under their nails, on their shoes and clothing. They carry everything they own in an abandoned stroller, attached to a bike, in a pushcart, or on their back. They don’t aggressively ask for handouts, although they may have a small sign near them. They tend to keep to themselves, rummage through trash for food, place cardboard on park benches to stay warm, and sleep in safe places where the police won’t harass them to leave. Occasionally there are scam artists, people who pretend to be in need; and we have to use discernment when deciding whether or not we engage.

Recently, I was approached by a young woman, holding a doll that was wrapped in blue blanket that she was trying to pass off as a baby; and she was asking for handouts. I’d actually seen her across town doing the same thing, so I knew she wasn’t a local. Everything inside of me was screaming, “scam artist;” and I made a conscious choice not to engage with her. I have no idea of knowing whether or not I made a mistake; but I know I can’t help everyone, and I’ve come to trust my instincts. Her clothing was nicer than my own, she was at least 30 years younger than I, and just in the short time I was in the post office, she probably made more per hour in handouts than I have in book sales all month. I felt a little guilty for ignoring her, but I give myself permission to ignore anyone I get in inauthentic vibe from or don’t feel safe being nearby.

I admit that many a time, especially in New York City, I would walk the streets with the mental mantra response to all people, “May God bless you, but please don’t talk to me.” As an empath, it’s very easy to get energetically overwhelmed in places like New York and Los Angeles. However, it’s also important to note that twice in my life, I was saved by homeless people, who much of society has cast away as worthless. They could have been convicted felons, rapists, or merely victims of an inequitable social structure, in which they were born so far from the starting line of life, they had lost the race before they even had a fair chance to begin. No one says as a child, “I want to grow up to be homeless.” I don’t know who these people were before they became homeless; I only know that when I needed rescuing, it was their hands that reached out. One caring homeless person pulled me back from a busy crosswalk in New York City at Union Square as I accidentally stepped into traffic. Another kind soul, who appeared to live in the tunnels, caught me as I lost my footing on a subway platform.*

I soothe the guilt I feel for those I ignore with the commitment I make to give to those I can.

How Do We Know Who and When to Help?

There are so many people who need help, how can we possibly help everyone in need? We can’t.

Part of how we discern who to help, all things being equal, is to first realize, all things are not equal. Yes, our precious money is ours to call our own and donate to whatever charity or help whichever person we choose; but not all of them reach out to us directly and not all needs are equal.

I live largely by my interpretation of the principles in, The Three Questions, a story by Leo Tolstoy. Which basically asks the philosophical questions:

1.    What is the most important thing to do?

2.    When is the most important time to do it?

3.    Who is the most important person to do it with?

(Spoiler alert) The answers are:

1.    Whatever presents itself.

2.    The moment of now.

3.    Whomever you are with.

Above all, doing anything is better than doing nothing. If we can’t offer food, warm clothing, or shelter, at the very least, we can offer the person who is suffering our presence, our kindness, and empowering words of encouragement. The only constant thing in life is change. Things can get better, and often times they do. Remind them that they are not alone, that someone cares. If you believe in prayer, remember them in your prayers. If you belong to a temple, church, or other spiritual community, provide any outreach at your disposal. Bottom line, do something and give what you can. Please. I know it feels impossible to imagine that you could one day be homeless too; but perhaps we are only spared from certain trials and tribulations not because we work hard, but because we’e lucky to be loved by the people in our lives who would never allow us to suffer.*

I share these stories to encourage others to do the same because I believe in community, I understand the value of mutual aid, and I know that we have the power to co-create the world we live in. Whether you are motivated to give to others from a place of fear, or karma to ward off and possibly prevent your own suffering by doing so, and “There but for the grace of God, go I,” humility, or you’re inspired to give from a place of love for humanity, in which all people have warmth and basic survival necessities, or you choose to give because you recognize your own privilege and wealth and know that you have the means to support others, even if you can’t see a direct link to how that may serve you personally or be a good investment, at the very least, it’s a tax write-off. No matter who we are or what galvanizes us to give, in doing so we are creating better for the greater good of all concerned, one person at a time. As cheesy as it sounds, it remains my slogan, “We must remember the power of one and that we are the one with the power.”

If you enjoyed this piece, please check out, Border (Jesus at the Border), which inspired the above, Homeless (How I Discern Who to Help).

I’m Sage Justice, author of “Sage Words FREEDOM Book One.” and my purpose in life is to infuse empathy, wisdom, integrity, and humor (whenever possible) into universal challenges. When you like and share my posts, and follow my author page, it helps me spread messages of unity to create peace and understanding. If you’d like to read more pieces like this, please check out the book on Amazon, monthly articles at SageJustice.Substack.com, videos on YouTube (Sage Words: Almost Everything You Need to Know), inspiration on IG @SageWords2027, website and the podcast: Sage Words (Apple & Spotify). A like and follow on the Sage Justice, author page, on facebook is greatly appreciated. Thank you.

*This post includes excerpts from the aforementioned book, available on Amazon.