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By Keith Wasserman
As some of you may already know, since 1989, I have
been spending several days every few years living among homeless people
in different cities in the United States. I go to live on the streets
to expand my perspective and understanding of homelessness and homeless
people. Here are some of the other reasons I go:
- I want to have my reservoir of compassion replenished!
I too can become insulated to the reality of the pain, uncertainty
and fear that homeless people feel. I go to the streets have my compassion
renewed.
- As a Christian, I believe that since Christ incarnated
himself into our world in order to be a bridge for men and women to
have a relationship with their maker, we too then, must incarnate
ourselves into the world of those whom we care about in order to understand
how they think and how they feel in order to really love and help
them.
- To feel with in order that I might understand
better and create structures and opportunities for others to serve.
- To re-evaluate how we are serving the homeless
at Good Works--to explore what we may need to change and how to go
about doing that.
- To know what it's like to be on the receiving side.
This helps me to gain renewed perspective on the feelings
of strangers. (Exodus 23:9)
In Lexington,
Kentucky I learned about FEAR. I learned that going
into a shelter and spending the night with strangers day after day
in FEAR wears down the body's natural defenses and makes one vulnerable
to sickness and mental breakdown. I learned that it is FEAR that
often makes a person compromise their own moral and ethical standards
to survive. I stayed with 150 men plus women and children for 3
days on the floor of the gym in a Salvation Army. I slept next to
a man with a knife. The only reason I knew he had a knife is because
I watched him threaten to stab another man earlier in the day. Fear
changes one's personality and life choices. Prolonged fear turns
you into someone you don't like and don't want to be with. Could
it be fear that prompts the homeless to lie in order to survive?
In Charleston, West Virginia I learned
that the system of sheltering the homeless caters to the chronic
and not the crisis. I felt treated like an alcoholic and a drug
addict. I didn't have proper identification and when I went to the
Police to obtain the I.D. the shelter wanted, the police wouldn't
give me anything. I returned to the shelter and the staff implied
that I was lying. I felt caught in the middle. I felt misunderstood.
It was in Charleston that I befriended an un-employed pimp. I learned
how to listen to the voices from the streets; the voices of men
and women who are survivors in a world in which they see little
opportunity.
In Indianapolis, Indiana I learned that time is
the enemy of the homeless. It seems like there is nothing to do
and no where to go. So much idle time to get depressed. So little
hope. Yes, you can work your tail off for 8 hours at minimum wage
but you spend each days earned income to meet the needs of each
day. I learned that it is very difficult to save money when you
live on the streets. When you do earn money, you become a target
for others to steal, exploit or beg you to give to them. People
are in a rut and need someone to pull them out. It is this sense
of hopelessness that often tempts people to medicate themselves
with drugs to relieve the pain.
In Pittsburgh,
Pennsylvania I learned...
In Akron, Ohio I learned about
the need for privacy and loss of identity. Privacy is a commodity
purchased by those who have money. The more money one has the more
privacy one can purchase. The less money you have, the less privacy
you can obtain. We need privacy to maintain our mental health. I
remember feeling like there was no place to go where I could be
alone, to be myself. We were always around others who could potentially
take advantage of us. This low level stress combines with physical
sickness to make a person behave strangely. No wonder some of the
homeless appear mentally ill.
I also learned about the loss of
identity. When we lose a sense of who we are, we lose the realization
of the image of God upon us and our purpose in this world. The loss
of family and work confuses our identity. We become vulnerable to
the seduction of a new identity; the identity of a bum; unattached
from the network of accountability which fosters real human growth.
Having a family (or "a people") gives us a sense of identity.
Having work gives us--especially men--a sense of identity. Being
loved gives us a sense of identity. I saw the loss of family, work
and love, and with these things, the loss of identity.
In Tulsa,
Oklahoma I learned...
In Jacksonville,
Florida I learned that while there are many good and caring
people on the front lines of helping the homeless, the problem of
homelessness doesn’t seem to be getting much better. I stayed
in a city with an estimated 3000 homeless people. I went to shelter
after shelter looking for a bed. Only by God’s grace was I able
to find a place to sleep. Homelessness continues to be the result
of a collision of personal choices and societal systems beyond one’s
control. Homeless people are caught in a nightmare of social oppression
combined with the learned coping habits of survival.
As I enter my 28th year with Good Works, I am aware more than ever
before how these experiences have helped me to more fully understand
that homeless people are real human beings; people who in many ways
are not much different from myself. I learned that in order to understand
and help people who are suffering, one must leave the comfort of one's
own security and reach out, perhaps incurring some personal risk and
pain. As a Christian, I now more fully understand what Christ Jesus
has done for me. I am grateful and I want to continue to turn my gratitude
into a godly activism.
Keith Wasserman
January 2008
To invite Keith for speaking engagements, e-mail him
at keith@good-works.net
or phone 740.594.9000.
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