The other day I was in my beloved NYC walking down 5th Avenue. It was an intoxicating moment; NYC at Christmas time – the cacophony of visitors, fur-trimmed, leather adorned, polar fleeced and down puffy, the slightly frenzied madness of families with wandering glassy-eyed children, ingénues who insist, no matter the weather, on wearing spoke heels, the ubiquitous hot dog vendors (with everything, of course), the smoky scented chestnut roasters, carols swirling past in the air punctuated by ringing bells and voices laughing and talking in a zillion different tongues. The gleaming star up by 57th street…And then there is the tree. Oh, the tree, with its glorious blanket of lights, surrounded by wooden soldiers and angels and ice-skaters, bursting with a sense of festivity. And the store! Recession? What recession? The stores glitter and gleam with bounty, silk and elegance, the windows filled with fantasy worlds.
Then I stopped in front of Harry Winston. In the window was a necklace of breathtaking beauty, the facets of diamonds literally danced with fire and light. But even as I admired the magnificence of its beauty a thought came to me; how many people could live in safe homes and have food to eat for the whole of next year for the price of that single object.
Now I understand that there is not a scale here – a necklace or the lives of 50 people. And I don’t expect folks to deny themselves beauty or pleasure or even very expensive things. But I think it is important to pay attention.
In this same bit of holiday madness were a few folks on the street corners, dressed more soberly than the rest. They were selling a magazine written by the homeless, it was a struggle for them to make their voices heard above the holiday noise. And on the home front I noticed that our local paper had a small announcement; 43 people did from homelessness this past year.Interestingly this was placed under a much larger article that spoke about a crime problem in another community. Three individuals has been attacked and the police commissioner was quoted as saying ‘three is a big number’. Well, 43 is a big number too – even if it’s ‘just’ homeless people.
Yet I know that people do care, they do reach out. Indeed, in reflection it seemed this year that there was an even greater multitude of groups and causes soliciting contributions; from high school food drives to replenish ravaged food banks to corporate groups sponsoring families with no money for clothing or household goods, from collecting toys to simply raising funds. This holiday I have seen a growing league of individuals, all of whom are attempting in various ways to fill the expanding gap of need experienced by so many. And, despite the faltering economy, I have also seen an equally abundant number of folks responding, reaching into their pockets and trying to help.
Yet I have mixed feelings about all this goodwill. On one hand I am deeply moved by this grass roots enthusiasm, by the fierce determination and pervasive belief that ‘a small group of individuals can change the world’; that with enough cans and sweaters and teddy bears we can heal the heartbreak and overcome the struggle that grays out the joy in life for so many. I am also gratified and touched by the number of folks who give, who recognize their relative abundance, who are moved by a compassion or sense of injustice or by something. These acts, regardless of who is in what political office, regardless of individual beliefs, speak to an essential goodness in people. And in that I find hope.
But I am also saddened by these efforts, saddened because their very abundance speaks to how great the need is. Notwithstanding the insights of the economic pundits, the reality is there on the street, in the numbers of folks who need clothing, who cannot afford holiday presents or have no home in which to celebrate, the need is there in the empty food pantries and strapped agencies. And, unfortunately this mushrooming growth of helping agents is merely the representation of how the demand for help has outstripped the depth of available supports.
I wonder what will happen in January and February, in March or May or even July - when the impetus of good cheer fades and the need does not. Homelessness is not seasonal; and in fact theSummer months often see a rise in the number of families with no place to live. The reality is that we cannot gather enough clothes and food and toys and household items to really turn the tide; those things may sustain for a bit, but lives cannot really improve if there are no jobs, no healthcare, and no places to live.
But even beyond all that there is one aspect of homelessness and poverty that is usually overlooked, one aspect that may in many ways inform these other vital needs. What others often don’t realize is the simple fact of just how lonely a place poverty is.
Studies have shown that familiarity with other – be they of a different ethnicity, religious belief, race or economic status – is a key factor in reducing prejudice and improving collaboration and understanding. So long as the poor are ‘out there’, so long as the giving is not face to face, it is hard to understand, support and enact the kind of underlying changes that are needed to make a lasting difference because one can remain apart, one can see this as an act of charity and not humanity.
Human interaction is an essential part of any life, it is precious, it is empowering, it gives us a sense of meaning, of worth. To be ignored, to be invisible is to be meaningless, yet this is what poverty does for it is brutally lonely.
The homeless cannot have you over to their house – they have no house. The poor cannot go out to dinner; they do not have the money. They cannot meet friends for coffee and chat about the struggles and joys of raising children or work or keeping up with the yard work – for there is no place to meet, there is no work and there is no yard. The poor cannot hang out and watch the game on V with their pals for they have no TV and they have no pals. They do not go to museums or book clubs or the movies. They do not have a community for when they try to form one it will change for these are the vicissitudes of their circumstance.
The poor lack the entryway to one of life’s most basic pleasure, that of camaraderie, of companionship. When you have no income and no place to live your life gets small and direct; every day is about surviving that day, about managing the crisis you are facing now, about shelter and food and holding on. Not having an income doesn’t mean more leisure time; it means no leisure time.
To be poor means that your dreams are reduced to the smallest possible existence, that you learn to keep your own company, head low, barely noticed – it’s better that way. You keep your feelings to yourself even as you hunger not only for a meal but equally for something that you cannot find in the food pantry; a voice to answer yours, a conversation, a human touch. Relationships, time with others, the art of sharing, a hug to ease ones fears, the moments buoy the spirit and give hope, they heal and nurture but the truth is that they are absent for the poor. For them poverty is only heartbreakingly lonely.
So this is what I hope – I hope that after this holiday season passes by we do not give up, we do not think we are done, that the gap has been filled. I hope that we will keep our awareness alive, that we will keep making our material contributions, even if they don’t seem to fill the vast space of need.
But beyond that I also hope that we will see people who are homeless, people who are poor, people who are in need as people, the we learn to cross our path with them, to talk with them, to employ them, to break bread with them, to even make them our friends. I hope that we find a way to give of ourselves, to embrace those who are without so that we can truly recognize these folks as people, and perhaps change the course of their lives as well as the course of our own.
Posted by Dura Mater at 11:10 A
