To be fair, I didn't want to go.
My wife's father co-organizes a group from his synagogue to go, each month, to staff and supply a soup kitchen using donations from congregants. They go the second Saturday of each month, and he had asked Sara to go and to bring Jude. At the time, we didn't have any conflicts, and she was set to go. That was, until she all of a sudden had a conflict and asked me to step in, bring Jude and go.
In our relationship, it's my job to temper expectations of all we can get done in one Saturday and one Sunday. Mentally, I had filled the time she and Jude were expected to be away with quiet alone time with Johanna. Maybe, based on the weather, a trip to the playground, but super low-key. Now she was taking Jojo to an event and I was thrust into taking Jude to a parish in Orange, NJ to help out.
Needless to say, after much griping, I got over my bullshit laziness quickly. It was clearly the right thing to do, which didn't matter because I was irritated at having my weekend dictated to me. We don't volunteer as much as we should (but we talk a big game), and it would be great for Jude, as my father-in-law reminded us, to see and help people who needed help.
As soon as we got there around 11am we started helping in the kitchen, getting desserts plated and making sure hot food was warm, being warmed, or being cooked. Slowly, more and more congregants from the synagogue showed up to help, and a line started forming outside by those people looking to come and eat. The congregation prepared quite a spread of (mostly) healthy foods including some lovely salads, rotisserie chicken, meatballs, veggie medley, pasta, bread and a light dessert comprised of cookies.
When the doors opened at noon, we had a steady stream for about an hour and a half of people of all ages and nationalities. It was mostly single adults, but occasionally, there would be a mom and her kids, dad and his kids, or just a teenager alone. I was on chicken duty and Jude was in charge of bread. As I watched him, he did his job like a champ and with no adult help. He didn't flinch away from people, even those with fewer teeth than him, or those who smelled differently. He greeted everyone, and allowed them to tell him what it was they wanted...and then he gave it to them.
He and I estimated that we served more than 100 people that morning. He never questioned why we were giving them food. He understood that this is what we do: they were hungry and we helped with feeding them. That was it. This is what you do. There was no talk about race. There was no talk about why they were less fortunate or why they needed to come to the church. They were hungry so we fed them. I wish my mind was so accepting. I have prejudice. As I saw them, I insisted that the mother with twin little girls take more food because the three of them were thin. While they weren't necessarily supposed to come back for seconds, we had more than enough, and I definitely doubled up on portions for those who asked, even some who didn't. A girl, who came by herself and couldn't have been older than 11 or 12 came without the voucher to eat. When we asked for it, she turned around as if to leave. We quickly called after her and insisted she make a plate. That's why we were there. She came back again to make a plate to take with her, and we made sure she had enough before we let her go. It's just the right thing to do.
After we were all done, my father-in-law, sister-in-law, Jude and I went out to get a bite to eat at the Millburn Deli, just 20 minutes away from Orange. It couldn't have been a more stark contrast to what we had just been doing. I don't think it hit Jude as much as it hit me, but we had just gone from the extreme have-nots to the extreme haves in the blink of an eye. How many of these people donate...anything? Who thinks about the fact that we are so geographically close to such poverty, yet we hardly ever see it.
I am a privileged white male who grew up in an middle-class house with food always on my table, clothes to wear and luxury items like CDs and stereo equipment and computers and the Internet...and books. Yet, I'm no different than the people we helped. I know some of them work, maybe most of them. I know they're trying because they made a conscious decision to get help that morning.
The bigger question is, are we trying? Are you trying? It cost my family $15 in vegetables and 3 hours of time. Do you have that? What have you donated last? When was that? Could you do a little more? My excuse for not wanting to go was complete and utter laziness. Facebook this week is filled with posts about racial equality and denouncing hate. Posts don't do shit. Praying doesn't do shit. Put your time and money where your mouth is, and donate the clothes that don't fit. Go give blood. Go help at a soup kitchen. Volunteer at an animal shelter or rehab. Become a better steward of this earth and its inhabitants...and do it at a meager $15 and/or 3 hours per month.
If you're reading this on FaceBook, I know you have time to burn and money to blow. Why not do it responsibly. While I don't know if we'll go every second Saturday, I'm fairly certain that we'll go again. There is no shortage of people who need help, and we (you included) are uniquely capable of helping.
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