The first definition of "faith" in the Oxford American Dictionary is "complete trust or confidence in someone or something." This, I believe, is the definition people are referring to when they speak of their "faith in humanity." Having faith in one's fellow human beings is something that bonds large groups of people together and separates others.
Enough with the lecture.
I don't know how this works for other people, but I occasionally need reminding that the world isn't all bad; that not all people are stupid cynics with a vendetta against joy; that there is still beauty and innocence left; and that that innocence and beauty still has the opportunity to flourish, overcoming the negative.
Recently my faith in humanity was renewed. As I've mentioned in previous posts (however long ago those occurred...), children are my weakness. They are the purity and beauty that can bring me out of any state of depression. They are wonderful.
I haven't seen my family in nearly six months and I have missed my siblings dearly. My older little sister is now 17(!) and is a rising senior in high school. That's nuts. I have no idea where the in-between time went. She's been having a rough time because the family currently lives somewhere where there aren't very many kids, particularly in her age group. But she's grown so much in maturity and independence! She has a job and she's doing an internship later this summer. I'm so proud of her and I'm really glad to see her.
My younger little sister is now 9. She has all the attitude in the world and a crazy drive and motivation. She has clearly inherited the Wanger competitiveness and my dad's outdoorsy-naturey side. I foresee sports in her future....
And last but not least, the only one who can bring a smile to my face at 8:00 AM, my little brother. He is four and a half and he is the most adorable kid I know. The last time I saw him, he was still having issues forming coherent sentences. Now he's telling me what he thinks and asking me to do things. It's chilling, really... such drastic changes occur in that in-between time from winter to summer.
My little brother is the impetus for this post. The other day, the family and I went to ride the Mountain Coaster in McHenry, MD, where we are vacationing this summer. We arrive and get in line to buy tickets. Little bro being the ray of sunshine he is, immediately hopped up by the counter to ask the woman at the register what her name was and how she was doing. "What are you working on?" he asks. Everyone smiled as the woman and he had a conversation about her job.
Then we had to fill out liability waivers, which he obviously did not need to be involved in. So while the big kids filled out paperwork, Little bro ran up to a few random strangers and started talking to them about their day. I chased him down and headed outside towards the coaster. I'm riding with him because little ones need partners. I can tell he's somewhat frightened as we head up the side of the mountain, but as soon as we head down he starts screaming with excitement.
And now for the real reason he renewed my faith in humanity (sorry if the build-up doesn't match the climax): while we waited for the rest of the family to finish their rides, Little bro and I went to the playground nearby. The first thing he does is walk up to a woman who looked like she had been having a rough day and just wanted to go home. He says, "Hi! What's your name?" She responds quickly. After a moment he says to her, "be happy! ... smile!" And she does. Not that making me cry is difficult, but it nearly brought a tear to my eye. Fortunately, crying in public is not a possibility.
After a few moments of play, he sees a little boy a year or so younger than he. After walking carefully across the wobbly bridge, he tells the little boy to be careful and that it was his turn. He then watches to see if the boy makes it across safely.
GAH. I love him. I love kids. They make me love the world a little more.
Note to self: when married and financially secure, adopt a child every 3 or 4 years. Save a life, provide a home, bring joy to the world.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Monday, May 23, 2011
Giving
When asked for spare change on a bus, do you give it in the hopes that the receiver uses it to improve his or her own situation? Or do you assume that the receiver will use it for nefarious purposes and save your change for something better or someone more deserving? Are you morally obliged to give to the have-nots if you have? Some interesting questions, I think. I'd love a discussion.
Yesterday afternoon I walked to Marion Square in Charleston, SC. I brought my Kindle, my Bärenreiter score for Die Zauberflöte, a Bobble water bottle, and a can of Arizona tea. I was wearing pretty nice summer clothes: white shorts, button up shirt, black glasses, and red and black converse-qua-sperry shoes. This detail is all important because I postulate that it affected the following discourse.
I'm sitting on a bench near a hexagonal fountain (that ironically had engravings of great moral questions on each side) reading Gulliver's Travels when a man walks up to me. His look is rather disheveled, his shirt is dirty and ripped in places, his pants are far too large for him, and he's missing some teeth. I'm not frightened so much as I am cautious. He asks me a question I don't quite hear; it had something to do with being a student or a musician. He then asks my name, shakes my hand, asks if I'm in college. I answer his questions as politely as I can to a stranger who so abruptly appeared and interrupted my book. Then, he quickly veered the conversation towards his actual intent: "do you have 60¢ so I can ride the bus?"
I knew it was coming, though I suppose I should say I assumed it was coming. It is very rare for a stranger to approach me, inquire into my well-being, and not ask for money.
I tell him the truth, "I'm sorry, man, I don't have any money on me at all." That should be the end of the conversation. Perhaps he could say, "thanks anyway," or something along those lines. But that would make for a boring story, now wouldn't it?
He doubts me and proceeds to ask about my possessions. Pointing to my 99¢ can of tea, he asks me where I got it (the tone of his voice implied he thought I must have some change if I bought a can of tea). I told him I brought it from home. He asks me about the Kindle and if I was reading a novel (again, the tone of his voice implied his disbelief that someone with a Kindle could be changeless). In other words, he refused to give me the benefit of the doubt.
I understand his situation and I sympathize. Even if I can't empathize, I can understand that begging for bus money from strangers is not the way he would like to live his life.
Or, at least that is what I choose to believe.
I have no problem giving money away to people who need it. I have no qualms about helping someone out with a few dollars. I do it all the time. Every time I go to NYC, I bring a pocketful of change because I know someone is going to ask for 50¢ to ride the bus or $1.00 so he or she can get something to eat. I choose to believe that this change is going where they say it's going. I don't really have the time or patience (or attention span) to watch them or take other measures to ensure it isn't spent on drugs or alcohol. I give them the benefit of the doubt because taking a pessimistic view of humanity is not only depressing, but it supports a negative expectation, which inevitably leads to a negative outcome.
I did not appreciate the questioning. He said, "alright, I believe you..." as if he actually did not believe me, but couldn't really do anything about it. My immediate thought was, "I have no obligation to provide you with bus money and I have no obligation to explain myself to you." In reality, I do feel I have an obligation to give if I have. How I give is debatably "good" or "bad," but I do feel that I must give. But! I have no obligation at all to explain to someone why I won't or can't give them money.
----
A friend asked me after I recounted the story to him whether giving money to beggars is promoting laziness and perpetual poverty.
This is an interesting and easily debatable topic...
The answer is twofold: yes and no. By giving money to anyone who asks, I am certainly making it far too easy for them to survive that way with no desire or need to improve their own situations. At the same time, what if no one gave any of them anything? Should we leave them to die on the streets? The guy sleeping in the train station has no home to go to and has no food or money with which to acquire it. I suppose I could direct him to a shelter or food bank, but these are always overcrowded and rarely adequate.
It is a moral battle I will think about more in the coming months.
Yesterday afternoon I walked to Marion Square in Charleston, SC. I brought my Kindle, my Bärenreiter score for Die Zauberflöte, a Bobble water bottle, and a can of Arizona tea. I was wearing pretty nice summer clothes: white shorts, button up shirt, black glasses, and red and black converse-qua-sperry shoes. This detail is all important because I postulate that it affected the following discourse.
I'm sitting on a bench near a hexagonal fountain (that ironically had engravings of great moral questions on each side) reading Gulliver's Travels when a man walks up to me. His look is rather disheveled, his shirt is dirty and ripped in places, his pants are far too large for him, and he's missing some teeth. I'm not frightened so much as I am cautious. He asks me a question I don't quite hear; it had something to do with being a student or a musician. He then asks my name, shakes my hand, asks if I'm in college. I answer his questions as politely as I can to a stranger who so abruptly appeared and interrupted my book. Then, he quickly veered the conversation towards his actual intent: "do you have 60¢ so I can ride the bus?"
I knew it was coming, though I suppose I should say I assumed it was coming. It is very rare for a stranger to approach me, inquire into my well-being, and not ask for money.
I tell him the truth, "I'm sorry, man, I don't have any money on me at all." That should be the end of the conversation. Perhaps he could say, "thanks anyway," or something along those lines. But that would make for a boring story, now wouldn't it?
He doubts me and proceeds to ask about my possessions. Pointing to my 99¢ can of tea, he asks me where I got it (the tone of his voice implied he thought I must have some change if I bought a can of tea). I told him I brought it from home. He asks me about the Kindle and if I was reading a novel (again, the tone of his voice implied his disbelief that someone with a Kindle could be changeless). In other words, he refused to give me the benefit of the doubt.
I understand his situation and I sympathize. Even if I can't empathize, I can understand that begging for bus money from strangers is not the way he would like to live his life.
Or, at least that is what I choose to believe.
I have no problem giving money away to people who need it. I have no qualms about helping someone out with a few dollars. I do it all the time. Every time I go to NYC, I bring a pocketful of change because I know someone is going to ask for 50¢ to ride the bus or $1.00 so he or she can get something to eat. I choose to believe that this change is going where they say it's going. I don't really have the time or patience (or attention span) to watch them or take other measures to ensure it isn't spent on drugs or alcohol. I give them the benefit of the doubt because taking a pessimistic view of humanity is not only depressing, but it supports a negative expectation, which inevitably leads to a negative outcome.
I did not appreciate the questioning. He said, "alright, I believe you..." as if he actually did not believe me, but couldn't really do anything about it. My immediate thought was, "I have no obligation to provide you with bus money and I have no obligation to explain myself to you." In reality, I do feel I have an obligation to give if I have. How I give is debatably "good" or "bad," but I do feel that I must give. But! I have no obligation at all to explain to someone why I won't or can't give them money.
----
A friend asked me after I recounted the story to him whether giving money to beggars is promoting laziness and perpetual poverty.
This is an interesting and easily debatable topic...
The answer is twofold: yes and no. By giving money to anyone who asks, I am certainly making it far too easy for them to survive that way with no desire or need to improve their own situations. At the same time, what if no one gave any of them anything? Should we leave them to die on the streets? The guy sleeping in the train station has no home to go to and has no food or money with which to acquire it. I suppose I could direct him to a shelter or food bank, but these are always overcrowded and rarely adequate.
It is a moral battle I will think about more in the coming months.
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