Stories of Kindness from Around the World

I was entitled to a free burger because I had 10 stamps on my Smart Alec's card. Awesome, I was pumped!  I liked the burgers, was on a tight budget, and had enjoyed accumulating the stamps on my card (the cashiers had been very nice about it, providing extra stamps here and there : ). I was really going to saver this burger.

It suddenly dawned on me: the thing to do with this card was give it to someone who needed it more than I did. I plotted to leave the free burger card along with a smile card under someone's sleeping body on the street or something...it sounded like a good plan. But, as time went on and I did not find what seemed like the right opportunity, I went through a period of cashlessness and I thought maybe I will get myself a burger with this card. I deserve it.

On my way to claim my burger I had to override my inner inclinations that said giving it to someone else was what I really wanted to do with the card. I biked to Smart Alec's and as I got to the corner I passed a man sitting on the sidewalk with a cup in front of him. I walked by and locked up my bike. On the way back I made eye contact and said, "Hello."

He looked back at me and said, "Hello. Do you have any change to spare?" I went to kneel down next to him. "What do you need, brother?"

"Well...change...."

"For what? What do you need?"

"Well, I smoke....uh, I need food...."

And I jumped in there, "Great, why don't you come eat with me?"

"I don't have money...."

And I pulled out the free burger card and handed it to him: "Here's your meal ticket," I presented with a smile.

Bill (that's his name -- "my friends call me Wild Bill") and I went in, we each got a burger and sat down to eat together. The meal was somewhat awkward, somewhat enjoyable. I listened with delight and empathy to Bill's stories of getting back from Vietnam and his subsequent adventures in San Francisco in bars in hotels, in cabs, on the street.  I observed my inner reactions as Bill removed the lettuce and tomato and pickle from his burger, and as he spoke about how there were "too many niggers in this town," while prefacing the comment with "now I'm not prejudice or anything but...." (if you're wondering: we saved the lettuce and such on a napkin, but ended up throwing it out anyway; I chose not to respond to the latter comment).

After the burgers I loitered outside with Bill as he smoked a cigarette and told me little anecdotes about the cops that drove by. When it came time to part ways he asked to "borrow" a couple of dollars, but I calmly told him I couldn't do that. I told him next time I would lend him my cell phone to call his sister back East. I waved to him as I rode my bike past him down the road.

* * *

Since this incident, now a few weeks ago, I've come back to it again and again in my mind, trying to make sense of my feelings about it...memories of enjoying the moment, but combined with the bitter aftertaste of dissatisfaction, and of course the question so many of us come back to: in the end, what effect did I really have?

And then recently I heard this:

"You just do the best you can...to relieve suffering...because you realize that the suffering being is not separate from you."

That's what makes the most sense to me so far. Those kind of acts -- these "drop-in-the-bucket" acts --are not so much for the benefit of the helpee so much as the helper. Because in terms of what Bill really needed...not only was it beyond my means to supply, but I suspect the window of opportunity had long since passed. Is this pessimistic, cynical, condescending? I'm not sure. Are drop-in-the-bucket acts not worth it then? I don't think that's the case. As the prayer of St. Francis says: "it is in giving that we receive." The true service is to be permitted to serve.