This is not a Blog

So whenever you give to the poor, don't blow a trumpet before you like the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets so that they will be praised by people. I tell you with certainty, they have their full reward!

But when you give to the poor, don't let your left hand know what your right hand is doing,

so that your giving may be done in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will reward you.

Matthew 6:2-4

Recently as I left a Fred Meyer grocery store I noticed this fellow ringing his bell for the Salvation Army and wishing everyone a Merry Christmas even though no one was contributing to his collection receptacle. I thought his greetings sounded sincere and I felt some sympathy for him. When it comes right down to it, I felt more compassion for him than I did for the faceless and needful folks he was endeavoring to assist. I got it in my head that I would do something for him to brighten his day as it were and finally put a plan into action this evening.

On my way I was driving along Mildred Avenue when about four pedestrians decided to cross the street where there was no crosswalk or intersection or anything and they did so in the leisurely fashion of those upon whom mere mortals are expected to wait vigilantly lest they should ever have any want or need unmet. I was sufficiently provoked enough to continue driving as though I didn't see them until the last possible second when I finally took advantage of my brakes. Hopefully, I said to myself, they were scared that I might hit them which would serve them right after all.

I'm afraid it took me a moment or two after this interruption to resume the proper attitude of goodness and generosity vital to the mission upon I was undertaking, but soon I arrived in the McDonalds drive~thru where I explained to the cashier I wasn't getting the Big Mac Meal for myself, but for the guy across the street working for the Salvation Army. The cashier acknowledged that was a great thing for me to do and generously wished me a Merry Christmas. Somewhere between there and the actual delivery I realized the Coke was probably too cold for the occasion and made a mental note to substitute coffee next time.

As I placed the meal on the base of a nearby pillar, the Salvation Army soldier looked up and I said "For the person doing the good work." And he thanked me both verbally and with a smile.

Once inside the store I told Julie, my favorite self~checkout attendant, what I'd just done and she agreed with the McDonalds cashier that it was a great thing to do. It's not uncommon for me to find myself in the awkward attempt of being humble when I've just finished bragging about something. So I told her it was probably the first nice thing I'd done for anyone in about two years. We had a discussion about how much the Salvation Army soldiers were making and she supposed it was less than minimum wage. As I left the store I hoped the guy would be devouring his meal, but it seemed as yet untouched. He wished me another heartfelt Merry Christmas, but it was certainly not clear to me whether he recognized me as the recent distributor of his hot fastfood and freezing cold soft drink.

It's not as though I regret my good deed. But I must admit I wish I could have seen myself what good it did. I mean the idea behind a random act of kindness is that it will operate according to a snowball effect so that the salvation army guy will give the fries to some lady who's had her purse stolen and then she'll give the fries to some homeless guy and he'll be the one who stole her purse and he'll give it back to her and then she'll be able to afford her busfare to the hospital where she works as a translator who helps a surgeon avoid using a medication that a pregnant Hungarian is allergic to so the woman's child is delivered alive and healthy and grows up to cure cancer all because of my Big Mac Meal.

So I find myself thinking of the text at the top of this not~blog and my skepticism wages brutal philosophical warfare against the notion that if I had kept my good deed a secret and not mentioned it to the McDonalds cashier maybe I would feel more satisified with my act of kindness. And then I think... perhaps I ought not to have been so tempted to commit four counts of vehicular homicide a few minutes earlier with the brain~drips crossing the street. Maybe if my mind had been in the right place to begin with, it would still be in the right place now.

Along the same lines, I've noticed this about myself too: at work it's customary to do quite a bit of tipping of your various co~workers. We tip the cage cashiers and the baristas and we tip the kitchen staff in the employee dining room. And there are different ways of doing this. Some people will drop the money into a toke box and they'll do it when the beneficiary of their donation has his or her back turned. So in a sense it's like they're doing a good deed and they don't care if anyone knows it or not. I'm different. Instead of putting the tips in the box, I place them on the counter so the cashier or barista or line~cook or whomever will have to pick them up and deposit them personally... that way they know I've tipped them. They know, in other words, who to appreciate for appreciating them.

But the gospel of Matthew tells me I'm handling these things wrong. I should be able to do what's good and right without anyone knowing. So the reward is not in having people pat me on the back. The reward is, presumably, to have so much confidential goodness bottled up inside of you... anonymous goodness... that eventually you'll feel it there inside. Goodness instead of emptiness.

And that's why this not a blog. Because if it were then I would be telling everyone about these things instead of keeping them to myself.