A couple weeks ago, I had the pleasure of spending a week in Philadelphia while attending an IHS program about liberty and society. Three days into the week, I tasted my first authentic philly cheesestake while exploring the city. Me and some of the other lecture patrons were standing on a street corner enjoying our hoagies when pan-handler came a handlin'. "Can I you give me some change? I need something to eat. I'm really hungry." Overcome with pity, I gave him some loose change and shrugged off some of the guilt. And yet, I couldn't help but feel like something about the situation was horribly out of place and I didn't feel content about helping to feed the poor guy. It took me over a week to figure out what was missing - the barrel of a gun. He was coercing on the deepest scale; the only difference between the tramp and a visibly armed mugger was that a mugger wouldn't have asked me to pretend that the expropriation was voluntary. But it wasn't voluntary and the tramp wasn't unarmed, his weapon was guilt, and the more compassionate you are, the larger his gun becomes. Now I can't help but imagine how many bums are using the veil of a panhandle to disguise their grip on our good intentions to get a free ride.
"But we need to help those less fortunate than ourselves," our consciences plead. And how unfortunate that our consciences can so easily drop contexts. Help them to do what? To escape hunger for a few hours? I have more faith in my conscience than to assume it places such a high value on such a temporary fix. How could compassion be so heavily directed towards your neighbors stomach? If compassion is to be of any value, it needs to be reserved for your neighbors mind, his only truly valuable asset. This means that when you give change to a bum out of brotherly love, what you really feel fuzzy about is being able to help them back up on their feet.
I'm not going to say that you shouldn't give to the poor, or even that you shouldn't feel good while doing it. I'm only saying that by truly understanding why you're giving, you can escape the feeling that you're fulfilling some sort of duty by emptying your pockets. After all, the fact that charity isn't obligated is what makes it so compassionate.
2 comments:
David, I like your bottom-line idea: the highest giving is the most free. Don't give out of guilt, give out of love for the best in people.
"But it wasn't voluntary and the tramp wasn't unarmed, his weapon was guilt, and the more compassionate you are, the larger his gun becomes."
Well-written. And like Lester noted, solid conclusion.
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