I was in Chicago in the late afternoon on a warm and sunny November day. I went for a stroll through Lincoln Park and along the lakefront, admiring the autumn colors, the downtown highrise architecture, and the choppy waters of Lake Michigan.
I was also thinking about a cassette tape I had been listening to over the previous three days as I drove around town for my job. It’s a tape by Joseph Goldstein, a Buddhist teacher, and in it he talks about the importance of practicing generosity and loving kindness. I decided that I needed to make more of an effort to reach out to other people and offer them kind or encouraging words and deeds. I wasn’t sure exactly what I would do, only that I would listen to my intuition and be open to any opportunities that presented themselves.
As I walked through Lincoln Park, enjoying and appreciating my good health and good fortune, I was hailed by a large middle-aged black woman sitting on a bench. She was next to a big statue of an almost naked, Adonis-like white youth. The plaque beneath the monument said that the sculpture was in honor of the great German philosopher Goethe. The contrast between the handsome young man and the overweight woman was striking. And while I’m middle-aged myself and far from being an Adonis, I nevertheless felt a gulf between my European features and educational background and the evident misfortune of the sizable, shabbily dressed woman on the bench.
She asked me for some money, and as is my habit when approached by panhandlers, I politely declined and wished her good luck as I continued on my way. She frowned and muttered something to herself. As I walked through the park, my mind summoned up past encounters with and various opinions about the homeless, including a belief that mentally ill or addicted people living on the street should be put in institutions for their own well being and that of society as a whole.
Eventually I let go of my internal social rant and resumed my ruminations on generosity.
Later that night I left my hotel and walked down Diversey Parkway to get some food to go. After I picked up my pad thai I was walking back up Diversey when I noticed a woman standing on the sidewalk. She was draping a blanket around her shoulders while she sorted through her belongings which she kept in plastic bags. She was evidently preparing to spend the night on the sidewalk. It wasn’t a cold evening, but I didn’t envy her predicament.
I kept walking, thinking how unfortunate it is that people make choices that lead to unnecessary suffering. I speak from experience – I’ve suffered needlessly from my own bad choices more times than I care to recall.
I’m not sure what prompted me to stop. I looked back at the woman, and debated what, if anything, to do. I certainly wouldn’t offer her money, since she might spend it on alcohol, drugs, or cigarettes. Besides, as a working-class guy, I am of necessity quite frugal. Maybe if I ascertained that she was OK, I could then return to my hotel room and eat my meal with some peace of mind.
I walked up to her, and as nonchalantly as I could I inquired about her circumstances.
“How’re you doing?”
She looked at me defensively. “All right.”
“Looks like you’re getting ready to spend the night here.”
Suspiciously, she glanced at me then looked around, before replying, “I’m just waitin’ to meet someone.”
I had a feeling she was lying; perhaps she thought that I was a plainclothes cop. I decided to leave her alone. Then one last question occurred to me, and I asked, “Are you hungry?” She looked at me for a moment, then said, “Yes.” And then I recognized her – she was the woman I had seen earlier sitting next to the statue.
Joseph Goldstein had suggested in his taped lecture that we are almost always glad when we listen to our impulses to carry out acts of spontaneous generosity. I decided to test his assertion.
I invited the woman into a nearby fast food restaurant, to the obvious dismay of the employees there, and told her to order whatever she wanted. She got a hot sandwich, a large Coke, and “one of them big rolls” (dessert). It came to $9.71, which dismayed my cheap heart.
Since our social interaction had been awkward for both of us, I left her to consume her meal by herself, and returned to my hotel room to relish my meal alone.
Goldstein was right – I felt wonderful. I had acted upon my impulse to be generous, rather than talking myself out of it. I was, temporarily, no longer just a selfish, self-centered individual, but a human being who had acted with compassion. Good for me.
The peace of mind lasted for about half an hour. Then doubts began to arise. Had I acted more for her well-being, or for mine? What were my motives, anyway? Maybe in being generous, I was really being selfish.
Even worse, perhaps I had inadvertently done the woman a disservice by encouraging her belief that she could rely on charity from strangers, rather than getting her act together to get a job and an apartment. Then again, she might have mental or substance abuse problems that would preclude her from being self-reliant. Even so, I might be only adding to her delusion and her eventual disappointment.
And what’s more, I was being a hypocrite. I resent the garbage, squalor, unsanitary conditions, and unsafe atmosphere created by tolerance of homelessness, and yet here I was, encouraging anti-social behavior in order to appease my conscience.
Jesus. I wasn’t a good Samaritan. I was a sucker, a bleeding heart, naive, liberal do-gooder, making things worse than I found them. Once again I had to accept responsibility for a choice that wasn’t in anyone’s best interest.
On the other hand, at least the lady got a hot meal. My minor loss was her gain. And just because my mind was criticizing me for my foolishness doesn’t mean that what I did was really a loss. Who knows? The Buddha said that it’s the sincerity of the offering that counts, and maybe I created some good karma in spite of my buyer’s remorse.
I do want to be more generous and loving toward others. And I intend to continue being a tightwad. I don’t know how to balance compassion with tightfistedness. Is there a path to enlightenment and wisdom for cheapskates? Can one be magnanimous without being gullible?
All I know is that two solitary people had enough to eat on one November evening in Chicago. And maybe that’s all I need to know.
David Wigginton 