Social justice in America (Dec. 20, 2002)
I was walking down 15th Street in Washington, having received spiritual direction at the Catholic Information Center and soup from the Cosi restaurant on the same block. As I crossed K Street, from which hordes of lawyers and lobbyists spread their darkness across the continent, I saw a gray-haired black man standing on the corner, shaking a cup.
"Change for the homeless," he kept repeating as the coins jingled. "Change for the homeless."
We looked at each other for a moment, then he saw that I wasn't going to give him anything. I felt a mild stab of remorse. I have a personal rule that I will not give money to strangers, but if it's at all possible I will help them in some other way. I got my food to tide me over until after a showing of "The Two Towers," at which time I would eat a full meal. What better way to live the Advent season than to give up my food to a man in need. Here was a fellow human being, destitute, just trying to eke out a living on the mean streets of D.C. How could I refuse him? What if he starved because of my selfishness? I stopped about four paces past him, turned around, and said, "Hey, would you like my soup?"
"Oh, no thanks, man," he said in a friendly way, patting his stomach. "I just ate."
