Philoxenia September 28, 2009
Posted by Margaret Hebron in musings.Tags: academia, Accordance, biblical studies, christianity, grief, love, strangers, tacoma
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What do you owe a stranger? As someone who attempts to live by the law of love, what should you give to someone you’ve never met? Does it depend on the situation? Who they are? Who you are?
I was confronted with these questions a couple of weeks ago. I think my actions were appropriate, given the situation, but it’s one of those things you’re never quite sure about.
I went to a training seminar for Accordance, the Bible software program I use, down in Tacoma on a Saturday in mid-September. We had an hour lunch break, so having packed my lunch, I checked a Google map to find the nearest park: Point Defiance. When I got to the park I wasted a fair amount of time looking for a suitable spot (I’m picky), but finally settled for a bench in the shade of a large tree facing a small, man-made pond. I opened my book and commenced eating.
After a few minutes, a man in his forties came and sat right down next to me on the bench. I looked at him, a little surprised. He asked if I minded that he sit there for a few minutes, I said I didn’t, and within a minute he had launched into telling me about how his older brother had died two months before and that this was his first time coming back to the park where they had come many, many times since their childhoods.
He was clearly still in intense stages of grief, understandably, and I didn’t feel I had a lot to offer him other than a listening ear and sympathetic interjections. Any advice would have felt completely forced and trite, so I mostly listened.
After a while, 15 or 20 minutes, I was finishing my lunch and nearing the time I would need to leave to get back to the seminar. The seminar where I had left my laptop, no less. So I had a decision to make: When and how should I leave? I’m sure I could have stayed there and listened to him all day, but would that even be an appropriate course of action? Perhaps he needed me to continue relating to him; perhaps he needed to find someone among his friends and relations to talk to; perhaps he needed to be alone with his grief, even if that wasn’t what he wanted, and I was just getting in the way.
And what about my needs? Sure, I could have completely skipped the rest of the seminar, but that was the whole purpose of getting up at 6 AM on a Saturday and driving myself down to Tacoma. And maybe if I did stay and talk to him all day I wouldn’t have been any good to him anyway, and would have thrown away all that time and gas money, in addition to not learning new skills in Bible software use.
If this man had seemed truly desperate, I would have helped him. He certainly wasn’t suicidal or even crying, and his mood had lightened considerably in the time I had been talking to him. I packed my things and was preparing to leave when he switched the subject and wanted to know what I thought about Obama and the nation’s security (he was pro-Obama and very concerned about bombs; I kept my answers vague).
When he started in on politics, I knew I was doing the right thing. Clearly, Joe Blow was going to be okay. He had said several times that he was going to walk the entire park that day (7 miles?) and that he was hoping his brother would speak to him, so I wished him well and excused myself. He did look a bit surprised that I left so abruptly, but he was fine. At least I think he was fine.
So where does that leave me? Did I go above and beyond the call of duty? Don’t think so. Did I do exactly the right thing in listening to him while he grieved, but leaving when he seemed okay and I needed to go? Maybe. Did I fall short of what I should have done, giving him more time and compassion? Who can tell?
In general, I think I’m pretty perceptive. I decided to go with my gut, and my gut still tells me that I did the right thing. But at the end of the day, I still have questions.
Hey Margaret – I think you did the right thing. You were there for that hour(?) which is probably what he needed at that point – a listening ear on the day he finally ventured back to the park where he used to go with his brother.
In other words, we can only be what we are to the people we encounter: humans with ears; humans with human capabilities. We aren’t saviors by any means. When we leave, we leave that person in the caring hands of God; they aren’t dropped because we remove our presence.
Be encouraged, and continue to press in to where God calls you – who knows, maybe you’re picky with purpose. You chose that bench after all, and so did he.
peace.
Thanks Ashley, that helps. And I think it’s a good reminder to us all. It’s not our job to save people. It’s our job to love.
I think I talked to him for about 20 or 25 minutes.
I’ve had to come to terms with this myself, on more than one occasion. I seem to have a sign on my forehead that tells people to tell me their stories (I honestly don’t mind, and I have some good ideas as to why this happens so often). While at first I always felt akward leaving, or bad that I didn’t really have a lot to say, after a few times I realized that it was okay for me not to solve their problems! Also, making these decisions on a person-to-person basis helps.
Sometimes people just need to say things out loud before they can deal with it on their own terms, and if I can be a safe place for them to say those things out loud, then so be it :)
I would tend to agree with Ashley. I find that you can offer what you have to offer and sometimes (most of the time when it comes to strangers) that amounts to a listening ear for a brief time and some kind words.