Dignity Dollars Part 2-When Public and Private Meet

My Dignity Dollars have been advancing (and I am running out of change). Dignity Dollars is the spare change I keep in a Smucker's Jam jar right by my front door so that when I go out, I can grab so change to give to people who are asking. Here is how I see it. It seems like a pretty miserable situation to have to ask people for help. Even people who are exploiting the system must be in some pretty bad shape at least psychologically to be begging. The amount I give is so nominal but what I hope I am handing out is dignity and respect. The loose change in my pocket gives me an opportunity to look someone in the eye, hand them a little bit of change and talk with them. See them. Not leave them alone. It drives me nuts when someone is begging on the Subway, for example, and people will not even LOOK at them. I think about when I have to get the courage up to ask for help. It is scary and makes me so vulnerable. To ask someone else for help and have them openly IGNORE me...well that just adds insult to injury in my book.

So lately, here is what I have been learning about the power of harnessing a community in doing justice. Somehow this is applicable to life in a congregation and I am not sure how...please comment, I need some assistance making the connections.

A story from yesterday: I was riding the 4/5 express towards Queens from Brooklyn coming home from services. I had my DD (Dignity Dollars) in my pocket. White fleece jacket, jeans, baby-blue back pack on. A late-middle-aged black man with big bifocal (think Mr. Magoo) glasses stepped on at Brooklyn Bridge. He was wearing a Mr. Roger's sweater, khaki pants, navy coat (a bit worse for the wear). Not your obvious homeless type. He began his pitch. He had lost his home in the economic down turn. Please help. Anything is appreciated-food, money anything. He even asked for fruit (no one asks for fruit-most of the chronically homeless cannot eat fruit because of lack of teeth or diabetes...I am not including this because I doubt the veracity of his claim, I do believe this man had no home of his own. His appearance spoke to a newness to his situation).

People looked away. I have come to decide that my DD can buy more than dignity from me but from others. When he finished his ask, I strode towards him and said, excuse me sir, I have some for you. People looked up. I struck up a conversation with him. He told some of his story. A man standing near us (also a respectable-looking type guy) joined in, slipping a bill or to into Mr Rogers/Magoo's hand. When we concluded our talk other said excuse me sir, here is something. Bills started come out. Seven or eight people held out a hand with paper money in it. The man collected. We arrives at the next subway stop. He said goodbye, and was gone.

The whole exchange is not very Maimonidean. It is very public. I feel uncomfortable. But the result seems to be worth it...

There is something to be said about the spirituality of the exchange (by spirituality I mean connecting to that sense of there being something greater than I am out there). Doing all that reminds me how small I am but that I am connected to every other person on that train and in the world and that makes me part of something HUGE.