THE LEAST OF THESE

In the beginning the elohim created skies and earth.

Often I find it puzzling when people who post their piety all over FaceBook  also post anti-Christian crap like these turds below:

 If we're posting "Jesus Loves You" posters or "Jesus Carried You" beach scenes with footprints...I mean...if we really believe that pious stuff, then why would we post rather than flush such crap?

Once I drove to a Kentucky Fried Chicken restaurant to partake of their wonderful, greasy, original recipe buffet...and maybe one grilled wing.

I saw a man park his car and get out about the same time I did. He passed a homeless man sitting beneath one of those sprawling oak trees in Savannah that has Spanish Moss falling like capes off the limbs. Beyond the shade of those outstretched branches the temperature felt a hundred degrees hotter.

The homeless man was filthy, old, and as spare as a plug of beef jerky. The gray stubble on his chin, the gray tuft of hair on his head were as grimy as the dirt covering his deep gully cheeks and dry creeks forehead. Everything about him was filthy. I could not say the color of his clothes for they appeared to have been spun out of mud.

The man, who owned the car, smiled and waved at the old man, then turned and kept walking. I'd say he took about five steps before he stopped, turned to the old man, and said, "Are you hungry?"

"Yes," the old man said.

"C'mon," said the man who owned the car. The old man stood up and followed. The man who owned the car opened the door for him and then entered behind him.

When they entered I slipped behind the man who owned the car. I immediately saw that two of the women behind the counter did not look very happy to see the homeless man.

One of them said, "Hello, Charlie," the way a teacher greets a miscreant student whom all the teachers wished would be absent for the rest of the school year.

Charlie said, "Can I have the buffet?"

The man who owned the car said, "You can order whatever you want, Charlie."

Charlie said, "Thank you," and ordered the buffet.

They both got their food. Charlie piled his plate high with 2 chicken breasts, slaw, mashed potatoes, green beans, and he drank a large cup of sweet tea. The man who owned the car liked legs and thighs instead of breasts and Dr. Pepper instead of sweet tea.

He followed Charlie to where he sat in the middle of the restaurant. Charlie looked surprised when the man who owned the car sat at the table with him.

I sat in a booth nearby so I could watch. I know I should not have been nosy, but I was curious about what such men who find themselves in this kind of association say to each other.

Both men ignored a few disdainful looks from some of the customers. I don't have a great sense of smell, but I imagine Charlie did not give off any pleasant odors. One lady who had been eating alone moved to another table away from the two men.

I expected the man who owned the car would preach to Charlie. I figure Charlie expected that too. I also expected him to ask Charlie some personal questions like, "How did you come to be this way?" or "Are you an alcoholic?"  Or "Are you addicted to drugs?"  

Those were questions that popped into my head because I had no clue how to talk to someone like Charlie.

Instead, they just chatted. The man who owned the car asked Charlie if he waited beneath that tree every day for someone to buy him lunch.

"Yeah," Charlie said. That was all he wanted to say. His mouth was full of chicken.

"That's smart," the man who owned the car said. "I'd do the same. And I may have to some day for all I know."  

They kept eating. Charlie listened while the man who owned the car told him of a place where homeless people slept in the city.

Charlie said, "I don't like the city."

The man who owned the car said, "Is it the police?"

"Yeah."

"They arrest you a lot if you go there?"

"Yeah."

"That's smart. I wouldn't want to go to jail either."

It was just that kind of banter:  nothing profound, nothing emotional or sentimental.

Another man who was large in the waist, who wore his trousers above his navel, who wore his glasses so close to the tip of his nose that they could have fallen off if he just sneezed had been sitting nearby. He conversed with Charlie and the man who owned the car. He said something I thought was dorky, something like, "I love lunch. I want French fries. They never have any."

The man who owned the car laughed and said, "Yes, sir. Me too."

After a little while, the man who owned the car finished eating. He said, "I've got to go, Charlie. It's been a pleasure talking to you."

"Thank you," Charlie said.

"Naw, man. Thank you. I don't like to eat alone."  

He got up and disappeared into the restroom. Charlie dumped his plate into the trash, grabbed a wad of napkins and wiped his hands. These he dumped into the trash too. He exited the restaurant and walked away to God knows where.

The man who owned the car exited the restroom. A well dressed man, wearing a gold necklace and a toothy grin, walked up to the man who owned the car. He shook his hand.

"God bless you," he said. This man looked like a minister. He probably lived in the neighborhood. I figured he bought Charlie's lunch sometimes too.

"Thanks," he said. 

After the well dressed man left, the man who owned the car walked past me before exiting the KFC. I saw him smiling, and then I heard him say, "She does that a lot."  

I kept eating my lunch. I even went back for seconds because I love that original recipe. Before I did that, I saw the car the man owned pull out of the parking lot, turning towards the city.

I watched all this from my perch above the scene. It didn't look to me as if anything important happened at all.  

The first few generations of Christians would envy us our welfare system. They would have believed it a miracle from God if instead of murdering Jews and Jewish Christians the Roman government cared for poor people the way we do.

I have often believed, more than I have disbelieved, that anyone who wants to be like Jesus must, at the very least, be a voice and an answered prayer for poor people.

Instead, we have these all-too-pious ones who believe that anyone on welfare needs to be beaten down, made to feel ashamed, and reminded daily that they are to never forget their station in life. 

I believe if my taxes are being spent to help my fellow Americans who are numbered among the working poor, or if my taxes are being spent to save my fellow Americans who for whatever myriad of reasons are numbered among those who cannot grind out a living on a minimum wage, then I shall pay render to Caesar my portion that is blessed by God. I shall do so gladly and unconditionally.

Indeed, I will not begrudge anyone for the way they pursue happiness like I get to do with my larger paycheck. 

Moreover, I will thank God if their children are watching cable TV instead of mugging me or my loved ones.

When Jesus was eating and drinking with sinners, how many did he withhold wine from just because they were slackers?

Stephen Colbert said it well when he said, "If this is going to be a Christian nation that doesn't help the poor, either we have to pretend Jesus is just as selfish as we are, or we have to acknowledge that he commanded us to love the poor and serve the needy without condition and then admit that we just don't want to do it."

Blessings...