An Unfortunate Encounter
Why are people who have less more grateful? In my experience with serving and ministering to the homeless, I have concluded that, at least in Pittsburgh, they are by far the most grateful and humble people I have ever come across. I am reminded of this kind of heart and type of peoples when I look at my cross necklace. It is something I don’t take off and seems to be a part of me, so I sometimes forget its there. To me, it represents what I base my whole life on, and it reminds me of the hope I have in Christ to keep fighting the good fight despite discouraging encounters. It symbolizes a strong presence not of this world that disrupts all the foundations of this society, because Protestant beliefs and the concept of faith in general just intrude on society’s principles of materialism and fact. But even as a decent human being, we should be called to help those in need, right? So this is what we sought to do.
It was extremely early in the morning, 8 am, on a Saturday in late April. Our youth leader Adam, drove four of us in his beat-up black Ford Mustang 5.0. Naturally, I am the shortest and smallest out of four guys, so I uncomfortably sat in the nonexistent “middle seat” of the back row, my legs stretched out to just before the stickshift. We arrived at a quaint but tall house in the North Side of Pittsburgh, an unfamiliar place. We met with other people from youth fellowship, and Carnegie Mellon University students, all whom we were familiar with. Charles, was the leader of the ministry we were volunteering with. He explained that we were going to be cleaning up the area, and giving food and supplies at a half-way camp by the highway, to help them transition before the ministry found apartments for them. It seemed like a simple but effective task, so I was nowhere near prepared for the events that happened as the rest of the day unfolded.
The half-way camp was literally by the side of a highway, the barrier for it was right across the street. About 20 feet above the camp was a grouping of houses, but it was distanced from the camp more because of a steep and rocky incline. The camp itself wasn’t really a camp at all; it was more of an off-the-street forested area, so we were surprised to see small tents scattered around the area, almost completely concealed by the brush. Charles’s kids were there, Marcus and Julia. Marcus, a small but stubbornly determined little child, fierce and blunt; and Julia, the slightly older sister, smiley with bright eyes that reflected rainbow colors in the sun. It became my unofficial and unplanned job to watch them with my friend, making sure they didn’t slip or fall or get hurt in this steep and un child-friendly place.
Not long after we got there, the homeowners from the neighborhood far above the camp obnoxiously arrived in their pick-up trucks. They created a mob of terrible atmosphere, protesting and saying ridiculous things that weren’t even grammatically correct. They claimed that homeless were sneaking into their houses, when no one could possibly climb that incline. They complained about how the homeless have so much trash and just go to the bathroom anywhere (well where else can they when they don’t have houses like you do). A homeless man was with us, and seeing his reactions to the inhumanity of the homeowners filled me with both anguish for the homeless and rage towards the homeowners. Making false accusations towards a group that has little to no voice in the eyes of the public is a vile thing.
The homeowners tried talking to us. I was absolutely disgusted with their presence, and kept the children as far away from them as possible. They warned us not to “step on needles.” Prior to this comment, we had gone through the entire camp. There was nothing even close to a needle anywhere. One told Charles, “I wouldn’t trust letting my kids come down here…” as her child stood next to her. She was referring to the presence of homeless people, not the forested surroundings. I am reminded of society’s high reliance on appearance: they tell you to never “judge a book by its cover,” but they do it anyway. Also, another fat white woman went around the camp with her iPhone, taking a video and not failing to include pitiless, insensitive commentary on what she saw.
Charles, our ministry leader, was standing outside of his car with the door open, where he was talking to a homeless man who sat inside the car. The woman taking a video, a privileged white, seeing a black man, said to Charles, “Why don’t you clean up your own mess? Instead you have other people doing it for you. You dirty thing.” Charles, only by God’s grace, said nothing. I, however, witnessing this extremely horrendous act of racial profiling, was fuming. His children, Marcus and Julia, were with me. I tried to shield them from the disgusting comments the homeowners made to their father, shielding them with my body and covering their ears. No child should ever have to experience this. The stark contrast of their innocence and the homeowners inhumanity made the “people” even more abysmal.
Shortly after the homeowners came to complain, I noticed a suspicious guy with a camera sneakily recording all of it. Later, KDKA News, one of the local news agencies came, and you can guess who’s side they were on. They took testimonies (most likely false) of the homeowners, and just for the crowd, took Charles testimony of what we were doing. You can guess that the news report and article didn’t have our side of the whole issue. They also managed to call the police, and the city councilwoman, Darlene Harris also appeared. (Apparently the mayoral election was coming up, what better way to win over the people than with this?) Darlene thanked us for what we were doing on camera, because public image is the absolutely most important. Who cares if its false? Peduto, the current mayor, helped to set up this program of half-way camps. Since voting is based on opinions of the people, and not on what is morally right, he was not a very popular man at the time. Darlene definitely saw this as an opportunity to take the side of the homeowners, and win over their despicable vote. In the midst of all my anger, I was able to witness my fellow Christians’ reactions to this event. I knew they were angry, but they definitely did not show it or lash out. In that moment, I looked down at my cross necklace and the words engraved on the back: faith, hope, and love. This refers to the verse 1 Corinthians 13:13: “So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love.” As Christians, we are called to “love your neighbor as yourself” (Mark 12:31). In these moments of observing my church friends, I was reminded of these hard truths. Instead of lashing out amidst all the injustice, I channelled my anger into passion to help more.
When we were done, we all drove back to the quaint and tall house. We settled down at a long table in the living room, and Charles said, “Well, that was something.” In all his years of ministering to the homeless, he had never encountered people like that or experienced such an extreme event. We were silent. I was still bitter and enraged because of the inhumanity of the homeowners. It amazed me how calm he was about it, despite being a direct victim of the hate. His reaction only increased my respect for him. We simmered down by having a large lunch.
Seeing what happened that day, I expected there to be KDKA TV news about it. I never liked the news because of its completely biased nature. I was tentative and dreading what was to come. I wasn’t even intending on reading or watching any of it, but a friend who was also there told me when it came on, and of course this was the rare moment that the news channel is on in our house. Unsurprisingly, KDKA framed the news story favoring the homeowners. They titled us as “volunteers for earth day”, not “volunteers from a Christian ministry”, because that would make the homeowners look even worse, right? To use the word “Christian” would just bring more politics to the event. It just happened to be earth day, it had absolutely no correlation to why we were there that day. We were there because it is simply the right thing to do, and don’t we as human beings have entitlement to help those who are in need?
However, I was still completely confused. How could people be like this? What struck me the most, wasn’t that the homeowners were complaining about property they don’t even own. But the fact that they had this potentially life-changing opportunity to help immediate people in need; instead, they completely turned it down. In response, they threw rocks down at the homeless and un-shamefully told the news to “get them out” when they’d have no other place to go. You cannot simply just “get rid of” people. They cannot just simply disappear. The pure inhumanity of these “people” produced and still produces a great disgust that I cannot even put into grotesque enough words even as I recall this memory. This was an extreme example of the cold-blooded, insensitive, and cruel side of privilege. So, looking at my cross necklace reminds me of what we strive to represent, simply decent human beings.
