Filed under: Spiritual Life
I’m a scrooge.
No. I don’t count oodles of cash on my desk laughing maniacally over candlelight. Because there’s nothing to count.
I’m a scrooge because the spirit of giving is sometimes lost on me. I’m, at times, consumed by that “bah, humbug” feeling. And if you’ll let me, I’ll tell you why.
Here in Manila, the sight of beggars and riff raff is nothing new. It’s a sight that would reduce other people to tears; but here, we’re so inured to the sight it doesn’t even earn a second thought.
When I was in college, naïve and all that, I once saw an old man on the bridge across Guadalupes Nuevo and Viejo. Tattered clothes. Grimy hands. Sunken face. Your typical old hermit beggar figure.
He was moaning and groaning while asking for alms. And he would routinely fall on the floor, doubling over in what I assumed was hunger, or weakness.
It was a good show, I tell you. Now I was never a rich kid by any measure. And I fail to remember the times when I had more than 200 pesos in my pockets when I was in college. But I felt that the man needed help. So I decided to do a good turn and get him something nice to chew on.
I bought him some kakanin from a nearby vendor and gingerly came up to the man to offer it to him to eat.
It was one of those Hallmark moments where I expected a teary eyed response. A tiny thank you would done nicely. But nooooo way. He just HAD to exceed my expectations. He took the food I gave him and hurled it to the ground.
I was a little shocked(and humiliated, of course). It dawned upon me that he didn’t want the food. He wanted the coin. And so I looked blankly at the poor piece of kakanin on the floor, thinking twice about eating it myself( I was hungry too 
).
I left while the old man continued his fall-down-moan-and-groan routine.
There was this other time when I was in a taxi along Roxas Boulevard, and a little girl came over with the most pained expression you’d ever seen. She gave the window a little tap, and with dove eyes, tugged at my heart for alms. But for some reason I will never understand until today, she suddenly broke into embarrassed giggles and scampered away. It was a bit like a soap opera actress asking, “direk, isa pa.”
By the way, I’d like to thank our media for teaching our children to act so well.
There was another time when I was feeling a little generous(those feelings are so few and far between that I cringe in embarrassment). And having extra cans of tuna at my disposal, I decided to go around and look for street kids that might need extra chow for the night. I found them in front of a Goldilocks store near the Gil Puyat LRT station. I came over, bent, and said, “Uy, delata o. Gusto mo?”
The kid doesn’t look up and takes the canned goods(I know, she was playing and, for crying out loud, why would something as insignificant as food interrupt that?).
I waited for a thank you. But three balut vendors and 10 traffic lights later, nothing was forthcoming. So I left, dejected.
Now, these experiences made me cold and scroogey. Give me the most pathetic street urchin, and I’d give you a stoney face.
Why help? They lie; they act; they don’t say thank you. Why help?
And then I feel a prick in my conscience.
A reminder from God saying, “I help. They lie; they act; they don’t say thank you. But still I help. I don’t know, but that’s just the way I operate.“
I then realized that the beggar that threw his gift on the ground was me. That urchin that looked pitiful just to better his chances at alms? That was me. The kid that never said “ Thank you,” even though God kept blessing and giving? That was me. God kept giving even if I never deserved it.
And then I realized the difference between God and me. I’m concerned about doing a good deed. He’s concerned about His children’s welfare. I was willing to part with my money. He’s willing to part with His time, and Himself.
I look at him and I will never regard generosity in the same light again.
This scrooge would like to learn to give like Him. How about you?
