I had some guests in town the other week, so we went out for dinner one night. Afterwards, happy to be in each other's company, we decided to walk to the river, a distance of about 11 blocks. When we got the Chattanooga aquarium, we were immediately approached by a fifty-something, white man with a swollen face wearing dirty jeans and a denim shirt. He asked us for money, and I told him I don't give away money, but that if he needs help he should try the Community Kitchen (which serves three meals a day) and MetMin (a financial emergency room with connections to most other social service providers in town). He was already drunk, and only understood that I wasn't giving him money.
He said he needed water and walked away, but less than a minute later, he approached my college-aged younger brother, who agreed to buy him some food. It was getting on in the evening, and most of the restaurants near the aquarium were closing up. My brother walked off with him to find someplace to eat. After a moment of indecision and checking with the group, I went running after them too. We ended up at Buffalo Wild Wings, sitting on a bench, listening to our new acquaintance drunkenly repeat himself. I would have been sad if I wasn't already angry. Angry because he was drunk. Angry because I felt he had manipulated my younger brother. Angry because I hadn't felt up to buying someone food again. Angry because I personally buy someone a meal at least once a week on top of the meals we provide at Southside Abbey, which I tithe towards, and I was just tired of it all: the addiction, the hopelessness, the manipulation. I was also being selfish of course.
The drunk man's litany included some of the usual causes of homelessness. He had been in prison for fifteen years. He couldn't find a job. He didn't have anyone in the world to look after him. However he would always return to the idea that, whatever the situation, he would "Get 'er done."
The rest of the group caught up, and we started to make our way back to our car. Along the way, we were approached six more times by folks asking for money, most of them black men. One member of our group develops debilitating headaches if they are too active for too long, so we were in a rush to get back. We couldn't give everyone we met the time necessary to suss out their situation and respond accordingly. We talked with folks, but we didn't give anything away, didn't buy any more meals. We just kept walking.
Encountering a panhandler or beggar puts a Christian in an ethical bind. Because of the example and teachings of Christ, we feel ethically obliged to give, and yet most people who work regularly with the homeless population recommend never giving money. How are we to model the generosity, grace, and abundance of our God when we are told by those with experience and wisdom to not give any money?
We need to know why those who spend their entire working lives helping the homeless don't recommend giving money, and they have multiple reasons. One has to do with the rate of addiction among the homeless population. Unfortunately, a larger percentage of poor folks struggle with drug addiction than the general populace. (For the purpose of brevity, I'm including alcohol under the term "drug addiction"). It is true that all demographics have problems with drug addiction, rich and poor, and we must not demonize the poor as if they are the only people who deal with addiction, but it is also true that a greater percentage of poor people have chronic addictions. Of course, there is not a clean causality between poverty and addiction. Some middle-class folks end up poor because of addiction, some poor folks become addicts to cope with the pressures of being poor. Either way, it's a cycle of destruction that is all too prevalent and tends to keep poor people poor.
What this means is that if you give a panhandler money you are, all too often, just buying them drugs or alcohol. You are enabling their addictions. You are allowing them to continue destroying themselves, and that is not love.
Another reason for not giving money away lies with some basic poverty alleviation theory called the Relief-Rehab-Development spectrum. Basically, if there has just been a catastrophe or disaster (as in, within the last week) then you just help. Examples of disasters might include a house fire, an earthquake, a tsunami, a hurricane, a car accident, or a war. You do whatever you need to do to keep people alive. You give things away for free. You see a need, and you meet a need, as simple as that. You do things to and for people.
However, if it has been more than a few weeks since a catastrophe, then it starts to become inappropriate to do things for people. They aren't stable enough yet to take care of everything for themselves, but they are certainly capable of some things. They have gifts and abilities to offer. To use a medical analogy, they don't need surgery any more, they need physical therapy. They need to start using their gifts and abilities again, but they need some support to do that. This is the rehabilitation phase. A good example of this would be a work program in a refugee camp that pays for work on projects that are beneficial for the community at large. The basic needs of the refugees have to continue to be met, but refugees are not left alone to merely survive. They are asked contribute and they are reimbursed for their contribution. A good rehabilitation program has to strike a difficult balance between relief and development. It might be said you are doing some things for people and some things with people.
At the development end of the spectrum, you never do anything for people, only with people. Development is appropriate when folks are largely stable. They may be poor, but they can take care of themselves. You focus on assets, not needs. Patronizing, top-down, give-away type activities are anathema to development work. Giving away things for free in development work is simply communicating to a poor person that you don't think they can do anything for themselves. It robs them of what little dignity they have been able to muster.
So let's return to panhandling. There is a good chance that the person asking you for money has a serious addiction to drugs or alcohol, and giving them money will only enable that addiction. But where do homelessness and addiction lie on the relief to development spectrum? It isn't immediately clear, and so everything immediately gets more difficult. If we see addiction as a disease, then in a sense, it is a catastrophe. However, for folks in Chattanooga, their basic needs are generally met. As we've already mentioned, the Community Kitchen serves three meals a day and has a shelter for families. And that doesn't even take into account other churches and ministries that give food away for free on almost any day of the week. No homeless person will starve to death in Chattanooga in the near future, not unless it is by their own choice. That may seem harsh, but it is true, and the homeless community in Chattanooga will be some of the first people to tell you that.
I believe this puts most people who approach you on the street asking for money in the category of rehabilitation and development. Buying them a meal or a hotel room won't harm them, but they need to be connected to other resources to actually thrive. They need stable affordable housing. They need mental health and addiction counseling. They need health insurance. They need some means of livelihood. They need a community of people to support them. They don't need a $10 burger and fries.
So back to that evening, walking through downtown, being accosted for money at least every second block. The variety of tactics panhandlers employ became glaringly apparent. Some simply asked us to buy them food. Others would show us how much money they had, a handful of coins, and then ask us to help them out. Multiple men approached us with bouquets of flowers, offering them to the girls in the group and asking for money in return. One man asked for money, we told him we couldn't, but that we'd be happy to talk, so he walked with us for about six blocks before asking a different person in the group for money.
Of course, there are more tactics than these. The frankness approach openly asks for money for the drugs or alcohol the panhandler actually wants, hoping that the honesty will win folks over. The shoe-shine hustle is common in some cities, where someone talks you into letting them shine your shoes without giving a price, but then demands $20 or so. Asking for money for a bus-ticket is fairly common in Chattanooga: a woman has been raising money at the Walgreens on South Broad for a bus-ticket out of town for over 5 years now. One of my personal favorites is when someone pretends to be an evangelism target, asking for prayer and wanting to know more about God, only to ask for money within the next minute.
They are all tactics, and they all share some commonalities. They are looking to manipulate the target, whether by frankness, by guilt, or by pandering to religious beliefs. Some tactics are more explicitly cons or deceptions, but some are simply tactics for survival, and it can be difficult to tell which is which.
Equally, folks have tactics for dealing with panhandlers. I've employed my fair share of them. One is to avoid eye-contact, cross over to the other side of the street, generally pretend they don't exist. (So much for the Christ in me recognizing the Christ in them). If the pan-handler is still aggressive, you shake your head and keep walking, trying to engage as little as possible. If you stop to listen, the negotiating begins. Basically, how much will you pay to cover the guilt that you are rich while they are poor? They are shaming themselves in front of you, and that makes you feel ashamed. Some people will pay, either to end the situation, or because they genuinely want to help. For the reasons already mentioned, I would argue this is a mistake. It continues the shame of the panhandler, it enables addictions, and it makes the giver complicit in the panhandler's shame and self-destruction.
Some people will take the time to go with the person to a restaurant and buy them a meal, or perhaps to a hotel to buy them a room. That is a good place to start. It allows a Christian to be generous with their resources and sacrificial with their time, but it also isn't enough. The panhandler needs to be connected to resources, support systems, and communities that push them, hold them accountable, encourage them, and give them opportunities. In Chattanooga, that means recommending the Community Kitchen, MetMin, and Southside Abbey.
However, many homeless folks already know about the Community Kitchen, and they refuse to go there. They may have been banned from being drunk and belligerent in the past. They may not like the food. They may not like the portions. They may not like having to live by the meal schedule at the Kitchen. They may not like the other homeless people, or have some longstanding conflicts they are trying to avoid. It's hard to know, but sometimes mentioning the kitchen will make a pan-handler extremely angry. Still, if they want to actually get help, then the Kitchen is the place to start. If they don't want to work with the Community Kitchen, then they aren't actually working to change their situation.
MetMin does a lot of homelessness prevention work. They will step in when families are faced with the difficult arithmetic of whether to pay rent or pay the electricity bill. They are limited, because resources are limited, but if there is any possible way to help, or if they know of anyone in town who could help, they will get someone hooked up with the right organizations. MetMin does a good job of bridging the gap from relief work and sending folks on to other organizations who can provide more rehab and development oriented services.
And finally, we have Southside Abbey, a worshipping community made of homeless folks, sudanese refugees, missionary kids, young professionals, and Lutheran friends. We are a church, and we offer what a church offers: prayer, community, and unlikely relationships over a holy meal. We gather around folks in all the milestones of their lives, whether that be births, baptisms, marriages, moving into new houses, graduations, or funerals. We are a community of people, so we aren't perfect, but we keep showing up, keep praying, and keep eating food together. When we say "everyone is welcome" at Southside Abbey, we truly mean it.
So what are we to do as Christians when we are faced with panhandlers or beggars, we who are told to be as cunning as serpents and as peaceful as doves? First of all, we must act. The parable of the sheep and the goats makes that clear. That other night walking through downtown, we sinned six out of the seven times we encountered Christ by walking past those men, some of whom were just asking for money, but some of whom were asking for help. We were the pharisees in the parable of the Good Samaritan, to worried about our own agenda's to stop and help. However, we must never simply give money either. It is good and right to buy meals, to buy hotel rooms in cold weather, to treat people kindly, to listen carefully to their stories. But we must not be blind with our charity, nor should we be naive about the manipulation and deception inherent in many of these interactions. We must be knowledgeable about what other churches and organizations are doing in our city. We are one body. We work together.
Lord help us to help well. Make us cunning as serpents and peaceful as doves. Give us the grace to be generous, and the wisdom to keep from enabling. Make us kind. Make us strong. Teach us to be like Christ.
