Erring On The Side Of Compassion
Stories
LECTIONARY TALES FOR THE PULPIT
Series III, Cycle A
When I worked as an emergency assistance coordinator for Lutheran Social Services, I made many errors - I hope on the side of compassion. We had people who could tell me the most poignant stories, bringing me practically to tears, and then when I did some research I found that all the details were lies. Some came to me showing me scars and telling me story after story about abuse or some violent act toward them. I could only remember that I was there not to judge but to help.
Those who passed our first hurdle with my volunteers came to talk to me in my office. About eighty percent were turned away at the "gate" by my volunteers, many who know the regulars. But those who came to see me were thought to have a legitimate need. They had signed in, registered, given their identification (agency policy, not mine), and had answered the preliminary questions. They also had some proof of their problem.
No matter what they told me, I had decided that if they came to me and would wait patiently to see me, then their problems must be real. I realize it sounds a little na•ve, but I had no way to check out every story, and I needed a guide. My guide was that if they were willing to wait, then they got assistance.
I was burned many, many times. One woman came for heating assistance and showed me bills that were three months old, totaling almost 400 dollars. I felt sorry for her as she shivered in my little office. I wrote out a check for 400 dollars. That afternoon at a community meeting, other social service agency managers and I were sharing stories and comparing notes. It seemed the lady had been to the Red Cross and Salvation Army and they each gave her 400 dollars. I was able to cancel my office's check by telephoning the bank before she cashed it. I saw her later that week driving a very stylish car. I felt taken advantage of, but I could have had no way of knowing.
Another man came to me for housing assistance, showing me past bills for medication for his wife, himself, and their handicapped older daughter. My heart went out to them because I recognized drugs for mental illness. They were very pricey. I committed to paying 1,000 dollars toward the rent. A few weeks later, he came in again with a completely different story, showed the same receipts, and was promptly refused by my volunteer, Roger, who recognized the guy. We were able to recoup the 1,000 dollars from his landlord because he had overpaid, and I felt fortunate to be able to use it for someone else.
But there were others who got help, and I will never know if they genuinely needed it or not. I have had women sit with me and cry as they told their sad tales. I have had men cry as they recounted terrible memories, strong pulls to a darker lifestyle or difficulties with addiction. I could not know if they were legitimate or not, and I made the decision, with the support of my board of directors, that I would rather err on the side of compassion than possibly turn a needy person away. I'm glad I did.
Some people complained, saying they needed more than the standard 25 dollars in grocery vouchers. They had more mouths to feed. I referred them to Social Services. Some complained they needed more than the fifteen dollars in gas vouchers I could provide. They had longer distances to go. I referred them to General Assistance.
It wasn't my place to play judge too much; I was there to give help. As an arm of the Lutheran church, I felt it more important to give people hope and a little help. Compassion cannot be replaced; cash can.
Those who passed our first hurdle with my volunteers came to talk to me in my office. About eighty percent were turned away at the "gate" by my volunteers, many who know the regulars. But those who came to see me were thought to have a legitimate need. They had signed in, registered, given their identification (agency policy, not mine), and had answered the preliminary questions. They also had some proof of their problem.
No matter what they told me, I had decided that if they came to me and would wait patiently to see me, then their problems must be real. I realize it sounds a little na•ve, but I had no way to check out every story, and I needed a guide. My guide was that if they were willing to wait, then they got assistance.
I was burned many, many times. One woman came for heating assistance and showed me bills that were three months old, totaling almost 400 dollars. I felt sorry for her as she shivered in my little office. I wrote out a check for 400 dollars. That afternoon at a community meeting, other social service agency managers and I were sharing stories and comparing notes. It seemed the lady had been to the Red Cross and Salvation Army and they each gave her 400 dollars. I was able to cancel my office's check by telephoning the bank before she cashed it. I saw her later that week driving a very stylish car. I felt taken advantage of, but I could have had no way of knowing.
Another man came to me for housing assistance, showing me past bills for medication for his wife, himself, and their handicapped older daughter. My heart went out to them because I recognized drugs for mental illness. They were very pricey. I committed to paying 1,000 dollars toward the rent. A few weeks later, he came in again with a completely different story, showed the same receipts, and was promptly refused by my volunteer, Roger, who recognized the guy. We were able to recoup the 1,000 dollars from his landlord because he had overpaid, and I felt fortunate to be able to use it for someone else.
But there were others who got help, and I will never know if they genuinely needed it or not. I have had women sit with me and cry as they told their sad tales. I have had men cry as they recounted terrible memories, strong pulls to a darker lifestyle or difficulties with addiction. I could not know if they were legitimate or not, and I made the decision, with the support of my board of directors, that I would rather err on the side of compassion than possibly turn a needy person away. I'm glad I did.
Some people complained, saying they needed more than the standard 25 dollars in grocery vouchers. They had more mouths to feed. I referred them to Social Services. Some complained they needed more than the fifteen dollars in gas vouchers I could provide. They had longer distances to go. I referred them to General Assistance.
It wasn't my place to play judge too much; I was there to give help. As an arm of the Lutheran church, I felt it more important to give people hope and a little help. Compassion cannot be replaced; cash can.
