Charity Is More Important Than "Being Saved"

Tonight is cold. I walked the near-mile from the PATH station to my apartment in Hoboken and couldn't imagine the cold without a home to travel toward. After about six blocks, I passed an ATM vestibule where a woman was sitting, keeping warm. She was clearly homeless. For the rest of the way home I thought about how horrible her life must be in this cold, while Donald Trump gains a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.

Shortly I was home, and I looked around my apartment for something warm that I could give up for this person. I realized that in my closet I have a wool overcoat that I never wear. I rolled it up in a ball and went back into the cold toward the ATM.

When I entered the bank vestibule, I said nothing. I just unrolled the coat and handed it to her. I was amazed at how she looked face-to-face. She looked no older than I am. In that moment I could have guessed a life of wrong turns or mental and emotional confusion. I handed her the coat and she said simply and humbly, "thank you." I nodded and left.

Not long ago there was a man who saved another in the subway here in New York, then within the week, two men who saved a toddler from a multi-story fall. I can't imagine ever being a hero like them. In the case of the second, I'm sure I'd drop the baby. In the case of the first, there is no way I'd put my face into the the muck that flows between the tracks of an MTA subway.

I don't know what any of this means exactly. But I felt good helping someone in need. Remember charity. Remember love. It might be all that we have that separates us from the Neanderthals (although the link may be closer than we think).