THE PROBLEM WITHCHARITY

I know two people who have no food in the cupboard and no money coming in the next few days.  Neither of them will have money for the rent if they buy food with the next cheque.  It ought to be easy to deal with this problem, given the plethora of charity fund raising that goes on at Christmas.  The food bank is everywhere, on the radio, at every concert.  They are intelligent.  They are aware.  It is inconceivable that either of these people are unaware of the food bank, but neither has mentioned it, and so I tentatively mention the food bank to both of them. 

 

They are different these two, different in age, in gender, in stage of life.  Yet their response to my suggestion is virtually identical.  Silence!  I wait.  More silence!  The silence of the measured response, the silence of people swallowing a reaction too caustic to throw in the face of someone they trust, someone they respect.   “no,” they say.  “No.  Not the food bank.”

 

And then they wait for me to answer, wait in the silence.  More silence.  The silence of a counsellor who doesn’t know how to help people regain their mental health when they have no food to eat, the silence of someone who admires their courage in the face of deficiencies incomprehensible in the context of my own life.  I want to tell them that I don’t get it, that their refusal is stupid, that it makes me feel hopeless amid the bombardment of charities in this Christmas season.  Only trouble is, I do sort of get it. 

 

These are kind people, nice people, charitable people struck down in their prime by the pervasive mental illnesses that filter through the generational divides in their families.  They want to give, not take.  And while they may or may not be able to receive a cheque in private and sneak it to the bank under cover of confidentiality, they cannot imagine hearing themselves beg for food and then choose macaroni over lentils.  They would paste on a smile of gratitude, force out a polite thank-you. They would go home and give the food away. 

 

I just want to ask them over for dinner.  But the psychology profession would call that poor boundaries.  I fear the professionals would not defend me if things turned out badly.  “You can’t change the world,” they would say.  That is why we have government and charities. 

 

And I know they are right.  I cannot change the world.  But I still want to try.