The following article appeared in the September 2004 issue of The Metro Lutheran.  For contact information, see http://news.mywebpal.com/index.cfm?pnpid=380

Buddy, can you spare a . . .

David Valen

Beggars are a conundrum for me.  I just don't know what to do with their entreaties. If I withhold my largesse, am I a miser?  If I fork over what’s requested, do I become an enabler, stifling any inclination on their part to go get a job?

What would Jesus do?

My most recent such encounter came at Central Lutheran Church in downtown Minneapolis. I was there to attend a funeral. The truth of the matter is, the beggar encountered me.  In fact, he accosted me, staring through the window as I prepared to leave my car. He informed me that he had a job — a “good” job, as he put it — at a hotel in Bloomington.  But just now he was out of gas and shy the eight bucks he needed for a gas can deposit. 

“This is so embarrassing,” he said, “but I forgot my wallet — left it at home.” The thought occurred that I might say, “Well, buddy, this is an amazing coincidence; I forgot mine, too.” The impulse came and went.  As I handed over the requested offering he assured me in a most resolute tone, “Now this is a loan.  I will promptly repay you.” 

I did not say the word that came to mind.  Instead I replied, “Oh, good.  Here’s my card, so you can find me.”  Then I watched him trot down the street, jump into a late model car, and speed away. I went into Central Church wondering, what would Jesus have done?

What would Jesus have done that day in Atlanta when a panhandler simply asked me, “Gotta quarter?”  That time I said, “No!”  The look on his face suggested he had heard that many times and now half expected it.  It was a look more of resignation than disappointment.  “No,” I said, “I don't have a quarter — but I have a ten-spot.”  His eyes widened. His brow, barely visible under a wretched cap, wrinkled in bemused wonder.  He extended a trembling hand.  Then, with impeccable manners, he blurted out, “Thank you, sir.” He said it twice.

His hand was eagerly grasping the unexpected gift, but I hadn’t yet released it.  With deliberation in my voice, I interjected, “But, you must ... ” I emphasized the word like a street preacher. He knew what was coming.  He squinted, rolling his eyes ever so slightly.

“You must promise to spend it ... ” I inserted a dramatic pause at this point, a small crack emerging in my stern demeanor. “You must promise to spend it only (I hit that word hard, too) on cigarettes or booze!”

Wham!  Bang!  His toothless mouth flew open.  He slapped his thighs. A low, hacking rumble came gurgling up from somewhere deep down inside of him.   The noise grew louder, his whole body now convulsing in uncontrolled, near hysterical laughter.

Was I actually contributing to his debauchery? Deep inside I knew, of course, that he would spend the money as he pleased anyway.  So, why not give him a chance to do something honestly? Why not offer a dollop of grace?

As I turned to leave he kept repeating, “Smokes and booze, by God!”  The last thing I heard him say came almost reverently out of his mouth: “Jesus Christ.”

Yes. Jesus Christ. I wondered then, and I still wonder, what would Jesus have done?

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Valen is a retired Lutheran pastor. He previously served Westwood Lutheran Church in St. Louis Park, Minnesota. He is an occasional contributor to this section.