Giving to Receive

Ten friends and I are hoping to raise $37,500 by April 30 to support Lava Mae, an organization that provides hot showers and other services for the homeless in San Francisco. A recent census counted 7,500 homeless people in the city. Our goal represents one shower for each of the 7,500 individuals, and we will match every dollar that we raise.

Last year during Lent I tried something different. Instead of giving something up, I decided to give something away. I filled my pockets with $1 bills, and I tried to give a dollar to everyone who was asking for money.

I had read a study that showed most money given to homeless people actually gets spent on good things, like food, water, and other basic necessities. Perhaps all my questions (e.g., would they spend it on alcohol or drugs?) were just paternalistic or condescending.

At first it felt a little weird. I’d given money away before, but not so… persistently. I blew through $20 in two city blocks in San Francisco. On a business trip in New York, I gave away $40 and was too selfish to go to the ATM for more. After a while, dropping bills into paper cups began to feel transactional and ungenuine. So I started saying things.

“Hi, I just wanted to give you a little something.”

“I hope you have a blessed day.”

“I know it’s not much, but I hope this dollar helps.”

And then, to my naive surprise, people responded. Their eyes lit up. I had some actual conversations.

One man replied, “Thank you, brother. I hope you have a blessed day, too.”

“Thanks,” I muttered. It was the only thing I could get out of my mouth.

As I walked away from that gentleman, I started thinking about why I was so taken aback, why I didn’t expect an actual conversation to materialize. And I realized that the proud progressive in me viewed my acts of “social justice” as one-directional. I expected to give but not receive. I expected to drop my dollars, but I did not expect that someone on the streets could add anything to my life. And in that moment, I felt ashamed for viewing a fellow human being as someone less than a brother in a shared humanity. I realized that by viewing people as objects or projects, I was depriving them of their own humanity, their own intrinsic dignity.

My journey continues in fits and starts, but I’ve come to see that when we see homelessness as a problem to be solved, we can easily overlook the very individuals who deserve so much more than what they experience each day. We rob them of their dignity. And I’d rather not do that anymore.

To that end, ten friends and I are trying to restore some of that dignity. We’re partnering with Lava Mae to provide a hot shower and basic necessities to homeless people. Their services treat people like people. Eye contact. A smile. A conversation. A chance to actually be seen. It’s something so much more than a dollar bill in a paper cup. Would you consider pitching in?

Please join us at: http://bit.ly/dignitychallenge