As I prep our little sanctuary and prepare to preach, Todd arrives an hour early to charge his cell phone, grab some brief relief from the streets, and hustle me out of five bucks.
He begins the hustle process by telling me he’s been sober and that he went to two AA meetings in a row the day before. I'm beginning to recognize Todd’s warm-up act. It’s a predictable presentation within our community. “I’ve been really good man! … (now in a much lower voice) Hey, if I pick up trash on the property are you able to give me five bucks to get a SubWay sammich?”
Todd goes outside and picks up trash for ten minutes. I reach for my wallet and slip him five.
Apparently, that’s the salvation he was looking for so he leaves before my sermon starts.
You may ask, "Will Todd use those five bucks for high octane beer and a pack of cigarettes?" Probably.
"Don’t you feel taken advantage of in relationships like these?"
Stories like these affirm the misgivings and cynicism in the minds of those who maintain a safe distance and prejudice toward the poor. This distance allows folks like the DPD officer who speaking of Denver’s chronically homeless recently said to me, “They’re all the same.”
Our perception of people like Todd becomes so much more complex the further out and deeper down the relationship goes.
Early one morning two years ago, Todd was hit by a city bus. While it didn’t kill him, he did break his pelvis and was sent to a rehab facility for a month. A vulture in the form of a lawyer caught wind of his story and sued the city, eventually winning Todd $4,500.
“Ryan, this is the most money I’ve ever seen in my life.”
Despite my best counsel, the money vaporized within weeks on hotels, booze, and taking his lady friend to a few meals at the most extravagant restaurant he could imagine, Applebees.
In the midst of all that lavish spending, Todd stopped in on a Tuesday last fall to hand deliver a most thoughtful gift, a massive gold ring with a cross on it. “I saw that at the pawn shop and thought of you and everything you done for me, man.” He handed me that ring with a toothless yet dignified smile and the type of deep pride that makes you stand up real straight.
So, do I feel taken advantage of when Todd hustles 5 bucks from me before church? Of course I do! It’s humiliating to feel swindled. I hate feeling bamboozled just as much as anyone. But in this relationship in particular, it’s important for me to recognize Todd and I share in the humiliation. This is the divine gift of reciprocal humiliation.
Of course, you don’t want to feel taken advantage of. Nobody does. But when you’re homeless, broke, toothless, uneducated, mentally ill, saturated in PTSD and addiction you earn a daily PhD in humiliation. The question we have to ask ourselves is this: “Am I able to swallow a teaspoon of humiliation in order to be in friendship with someone who is drowning in it?”
These relationships of mutual humiliation stretch the muscles of our soul. Middle class ethical and moral standards which were once rigid and immovable can become increasingly nimble in relationships with friends like Todd.
From the ground I’m standing on my standards want more for Todd. I’d love to see him become housed, healthy, and learn to operate with honesty and class. But what if this is as good as it gets for him on this side of heaven? Am I able to reside in that tension? Is it possible to rest in that reality?
Are we willing to expand our definition of integrity for the sake of loving who Jesus referred to as the least of our brothers and sisters? Am I willing to suffer the humiliation necessary to endure this friendship?
These are the questions we must square up with if we want any skin in the game of healing the gross lacerations between the rich and the poor.
The past three years is the longest duration Todd has resided in one place and I consider it a huge honor that he’s spent that time with us. A career hitchhiker and contract dishwasher, due to mental illness and attachment to booze Todd has spent his entire life migrating from town to town across America. Florida, Georgia, Missouri, Kansas, Wyoming, Louisiana, Texas, and Montana… Todd’s been everywhere man. But what a divine gift that he sees something in us that is worth the hustle and intimate familial exchange of humiliation.
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