The other day I pulled into a gas station to fill up. It was rather late at night and slightly chilly. As I pumped the gas, I stared blankly at the black-and-white LED which indicated exactly how much I was being gouged. After a few moments of quiet, broken only by the whisper of flowing gasoline and the clicking of the meter, I heard a hesitant voice from behind me.
‘Sir, can I tell you a story?’
I turned around to see a homeless man of some 40 years, dressed in a stained sweatshirt and jeans. His hair was matted with grime, but he was holding his hands in front of him non-threateningly, presumably so that I would not be frightened.
‘Sure,’ I said, curious.
‘Let me tell you a story. I have had hard times. Hard times. And let me tell you ‘hellip;’ Here he trailed off, looking down at the oily asphalt at his feet. I waited for him to resume, still pumping gas.
When he began again, it was in a thick-lipped mumble, a rush of words. I think he had said them many times. ‘I have had a hard time, and I think you know that, you can see that when you look at me, but I have kept my pride and I know what I am worth.’ And could you maybe see your way to helping me out a little, sir?’
It has always been my practice to do whatever small charities come my way. When I was a child, my father taught me the ancient wisdom, ‘There but for the grace of God go you.’ And while I do not believe in a God nor in His grace, it is an aphorism that nonetheless holds true. I would hope that someone would spend the few cents necessary to buy me a sandwich, if I were hungry.
‘Sure,’ I said as cheerfully as possible, ‘As soon as I am done here I will go inside to pay, and I’ll buy a sandwich for you while I am there. Okay?’
‘Oh, thank you, sir,’ he replied, smiling wanly at me. ‘I have to tell you, you don’t even know what kind of hard times I have had. And you are generous ‘hellip; you’re a Christian, right?’ I knew when I saw you that I could count on Christian generosity’
‘Oh,’ I broke in, ‘No, I’m not a Christian.’
The homeless man ground to a halt in his speech, frowning at me. ‘You’re not? Well, what are you?’
‘I’m agnostic.’
‘Agga-nostic? Wha- what’s that?’
He wasn’t offended or frightened or angry. He just sounded genuinely concerned and puzzled. I decided that I didn’t have time for a lengthy philosophic debate and simplified by saying, ‘Well, it’s like an atheist.’ This isn’t technically true’mdash;an agnostic believes that there is no way to definitively know about the existence of God or gods, and atheism is the positive assertion that there are definitely none’mdash;but it seemed to be the most efficient way of clarifying the matter.
‘Oh. Oh.’ He paused. ‘Well, what do you believe happens after you die?’
‘I’m not sure,’ I answered, shrugging. The pump clanked the tank full. ‘Maybe nothing, this may be it. That’s why I want to buy you a sandwich ‘hellip; it may just be us, and we all have to help each other.’
‘Oh,’ he said again. ‘Well, you know what, never mind about that sandwich. If you don’t believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, who came to earth for our sins, then I don’t know about it.’
Startled, I watched him walk away. ‘Are you sure?’ I managed. I could scarcely believe this. A hungry man was turning away food because it didn’t come from a Christian?
‘Yes, yes, I just can’t accept it. Thank you anyway, sir.’
He was polite and seemed amiable enough, even as he walked away into the darkness.
I mumbled something in reply. This was astonishing. Perhaps he wasn’t really hungry?’ No, that’s an easy bullshit answer. When I was a teenager, I used to do mandatory volunteer work for my high school, Tampa Jesuit. And part of that oxymoronic service included feeding Tampa homeless at various underpasses in the area. I knew well enough that most of them are hungry and cold and tired, almost all of the time. There are excellent programs in the area, but there’s only so much that can be done.
I drove away from that station confused and unhappy. Was I at fault somehow for telling him I wasn’t Christian? Certainly, he was being unreasonable’mdash;food has no religion’mdash;but was he at fault or the organizations that coupled every meal with Bible study? Or, was it just a world that created people who would rather go hungry than take a meal from someone who was different?
He never did tell me his story.