"Sorry, I'm Not Interested, Thank You"

Last evening our front door bell rang. It was about 6.30 pm on Saturday. We weren’t expecting anyone so I went to the door mildly concerned. I opened the door and a young man stood there in the cold  darkness  – a little unkempt but pleasantly spoken and most apologetic for disturbing me. He was clearly anxious and, I think, nervous. He spoke with uncertainty and a bit of a quiver in his voice, constantly looking around and trying to smile nervously. His first words were, “Oh I hate doing this, but please would you give me a few minutes of your time”. He had a slight stutter and a tremble in his voice. “I’ve just been released a week or two ago from Glen Parva Prison” he said. (Glen Parva is a prison about 30  miles away from where  I live). “I’m trying to make a bit of money and get myself back on my feet”. He reached down and picked up a bag that was at his feet. He was obviously selling items.

At this point embarrassment, anxiety and other concerns kicked in. What should I do – buy something which I didn’t want? Perhaps he was selling stolen goods. Close the door? Tell him to “Clear Off”. Offer him money or other sustenance? Be a good Samaritan? Ring the police? Offer him  advice on how he should sort his life out?  In the end I hurriedly, and with some embarrassment and much shame, mumbled “Sorry, I’m not interested, thank you” and I closed the porch  door.  As I did so he apologised for disturbing me and closed his bag and sadly trooped away. I watched him go down the drive to the next house, shoulders hunched looking, it seemed to me, dejected.

Now, he may have  been crook or a con-man. He maybe was just out to make a few easy pounds without actually working for his living. He may have been exactly what he said and in dire need of some kind of help to get a foot on the ladder or to put food in his belly on a cold dark night. I don’t know. I’m sure that those people who know about these things would have strongly advised me not to give him money and in that sense say that I acted correctly. I would like to think that if he was what he said then there are good systems in place to help a person like him to “get back on their feet” – and that all he needed to do was to access them. If he wasn’t what he said and that he had merely hit upon an easy way to make a few pounds from naive people like me then I would like to think that in  a small way I disabused him of this belief by not buying anything.

But whatever he was, whatever his motives or his needs, it left me with an unpleasant feeling about myself and how I reacted.

For years I have stood in front of children and led school assemblies. I have told these thousands of youngsters about great acts of kindness and bravery.  I have told Bible stories and legends where people selflessly gave. I know all the words of the Good Samaritan story. I have told the tale many times of the Roman soldier who cut his cape in half to give to the poor beggar and so incurred the wrath and persecution of his commanders. I have told the story many times of Jean Valjean who, on his release from prison in “Les Miserables”,  is taken in by the kindly Bishop and then forgiven by him for stealing the Bishop's silver. The list is endless, I have explained to children why these people acted in the way we did and why we should do the same.

And yet when the opportunity arises on my own front doorstep I turned away.

When the door shut and the man disappeared into the night, picking his way between my two cars that were parked on the drive; when I returned to the warmth of my sitting room to my TV and my computer; when I picked up my newspaper and continued reading of the world’s events, this little interruption into my cosy world still chipped away at the back of my mind. I sadly (and probably naively) thought what it must "cost" a person in this wealthy day and age to knock on the front door of a stranger and confess you are an ex-prisoner in need.  I had an overwhelming desire to jump up, run after him and push a few pounds into his hand.

I didn’t. Should I have done? The few pounds would have meant little to me – not that I am rich, but I will happily spend a few pounds on a trivial treat or a few pints of beer. But the few pounds might have made a huge difference to him. As I sat there pondering this, I wondered whether by running after him and squashing money into his hand I would have been acting correctly. It would certainly have eased my conscience – but is doing “good” just about easing our conscience? I’m afraid I’m not clever enough to argue the ethics and morals of such a case – all I do know is that in the many stories that I told children over the years people like the Good Samaritan didn’t seem to worry about “conscience” or whether what they were doing was wise or sensible or appropriate – they simply did it because they perceived it as “right”.

Like many people I occasionally subscribe to disaster appeals or to appeals for specific needs. My wife and I sent a few pounds to the Salvation Army Christmas Appeal a few weeks ago. We had a lovely letter of thanks back – which made us feel good – but as is so often true in today’s world money seems the answer to everything. It is easy to send a few pounds, to sign the direct debit mandate or tap in our credit card pin and to believe that we are acting like Good Samaritans. And, of course, we are - charities are grateful for our help and we hope they will use the money wisely. And, indeed, for the ordinary person it takes away the “messiness” of dealing with these unpleasant things – the homeless, the old, the sick, the refugee from war and the like – we can send our few pounds to a major charity in the belief that the experts know best, will know how to use the money effectively and will ensure that only the really deserving are helped. That is all true, but I can’t escape from the worry that the Good Samaritan and his like didn’t simply whip out their credit card or worry that they might get a bit messy in dealing with and helping these unfortunates – they simply acted because they saw it as the “right” thing to do.

Politicians of every hue proclaim that in their various ways they are going to help those in need – and indeed, I’m sure that they are serious in their intentions. For as many years as I care to remember I have believed profoundly in social justice, equality, opportunity and all the other causes and solutions to making the lot of ordinary people and those at most risk in our and other societies easier. I can quote the great social reformers and make a water tight argument for why and how we should act,  improve society and help the most vulnerable. And yet, and yet, when  a man knocks on my door and explains that he is struggling a bit and trying to “get himself on his feet” I close the door in his face – when to have listened or helped might have been the “right” thing to do.

Perhaps had I given him time or money I might later that evening have walked past the village pub and seen him drinking my few pounds - and then felt very foolish at my naive action.  But I think that I could have lived more comfortably with that – foolish and costly perhaps but ultimately done for the right reasons and reflecting my decision to think the best of someone and to try to help.

As I said above, I’m sure that those with experience would tell me that I did the “right thing” by turning him away – but it sure as hell didn’t and doesn’t feel that way.  As I sit in my cosy warm house, surrounded by my possessions and my long held and cherished  academic/intellectual beliefs about making society a better place it makes me realise that when it came to the crunch of perhaps helping someone I didn’t quite measure up. Just like in the Good Samaritan I was one who walked past.