Stop It!

A guy goes into the doctor’s office and begins complaining about his elbow hurting whenever he bends it.  The doctor asks him to demonstrate.  The man lifts up his arm and then bends it at the elbow . . . the man screams in pain.  Then he asks the doctor what he can do to relieve the pain.  The doctor tells him, “Stop it.”

My grandmother, God rest her soul, always griped about the shows on the television.  She hated watching shows with children actors . . . she hated watching game shows . . . she hated watching sports . . . she complained all the time about the news . . . she moaned and groaned all of the time about whatever was on the television.  Nothing made her happy.  Being a precocious grandchild I suggested that she just turn it to another channel . . . or, heaven forbid, that she turn it off.  I told her to “stop it.”

In college I had a roommate who liked to go out and party really hard on Friday nights, and was always hung over the next morning . . . actually it was usually late afternoon.  But he was always hung over and complaining about the room spinning and having a head that felt like a drum being pounded.  He would moan and groan while searching for the fastest cure for a hang over . . . something he never found.  I’d tell him to “stop it” . . . stop going out and getting plastered every Friday night.  Just “stop it.”

When the kids were little they would complain about this or that hurting when they did certain things . . . the wife and I would tell them to “stop it.”  It is like when I sit at the table and stuff myself so full that I am uncomfortable and about to burst almost to the point of being sick . . . of course, I complain . . . the wife tells me to “stop it.”

“Stop it.”  Such simple advice.  Your elbow hurts when you bend it . . . don’t bend it.  Don’t like the television show you are watching . . . stop it and change it.  Don’t like getting hang overs . . . stop drinking to excess.  Overeat and feel uncomfortable . . . stop eating. 

I recently saw a short video skit in which Bob Newhart played a rather unorthodox counselor.  He charged five bucks for five minutes of counseling . . . all his counseling sessions only lasted five minutes.  In those five minutes he would promise that he could solve any problem or issue.  Of course, in the skit, he demonstrates this skill with a person seeking his help.  The woman explains her problem and he tells her to “stop it.”  Stop doing whatever it is that is causing her the issues and problems.  That is all the advice he gives . . . to “stop it.”

The man is a genius.  I wish I had thought of this when I was in the counseling field . . . stop doing whatever it is that is causing all the problems.  It is so simple . . . just “stop it.”  Think about it . . . if all of us stopped doing the things that create issues and problems we would have wonderful lives.  All we have to do is to stop . . . Had I used this approach when I was actually working in a counseling office I would have been able to see ten times the number of people I saw in a typical day.  If only I had known this secret . . .

The only problem is that we are human beings and human beings don’t do things the easy way . . . just stopping is not good enough for us . . .we want to know.  We want to know why we do the things that we do that are not good for us.  We want to know what makes us over eat . . . what makes us drink to excess . . . what makes us do stupid things that hurt us and others . . . we want to know, WHY!

Just stopping it does not work.  I have known many alcoholics who have quit drinking . . . given up the sauce . . . and, they continue to do the behaviors that hurt others and themselves.  They stopped the drinking, but didn’t stop the behavior.  They were what people refer to as being dry drunks.  The reason?  Usually because they did not deal with the issues or reasons why they drank to excess in the first place.  Unfortunately whatever it is within us human beings that has the need to know why is an important part of actually stopping . . . we’ve gotta know.  That is why just taking medicine for a mental health issue is not enough . . . it must include the opportunity to talk . . . to talk and discover the roots of whatever it that makes us want to do the things that hurt ourselves and others.  But, it would be so much easier if we could just “stop it” and be done with it once and for all.

It just doesn’t work that way.  I wish it could, but it doesn’t.  The world would be such a better place if “stop it” was all we had to do to solve all the pain and ills of the world.  War—stop it!  Injustice—stop it!  Racism, genderism, all –isms—stop it!  Bullying—stop it!  Just stop it once and for all. 

It is not that easy no matter how much Bob Newhart promises us it will be if we just stop it.  No there is a lot of hard work involved in understanding what it is that makes us do the things that we do . . . a lot of work understanding why our bodies and minds work the way they do . . . a lot of work in coming to know who we are and who others are . . . a lot of work.  As much as I like the idea of just “stopping it”, I realize that I could never minimize the anguish and pain that others have when it comes to real issues in their lives that hurt them and others.  It is not that easy . . .

I guess I should take Bob Newhart’s advice and just “stop it!”  Like the woman in the skit . . . “stop it” doesn’t work when you are you are trying to understand.  In understanding the healing begins to take place.  Healing is the goal . . . to be made whole and holy once again.  That takes work.  Just stopping doesn’t hack it.  Think about it the next time you are ready to tell someone to “stop it” . . . wouldn’t it be better to just ask, “Can I help?” 

Sometimes it’s Easy

“The Search for Truth is a homeless vagrant who begs for food and gathers enough spare change for malt liquor.”

(Bauvard)

“Sometimes it's easy to walk by because we know we can't change someone's whole life in a single afternoon. But what we fail to realize it that simple kindness can go a long way toward encouraging someone who is stuck in a desolate place.”

(Mike Yankoski)

When the students are on break from their studies at the university where I work, the university shuts down most of its services—including the dining halls, which happen to be a place where I enjoy taking my lunch break.  It is because of this break in services at the university that I found myself sitting in one of the big city’s finer dining establishments, having a burger and fries.  This fast food haven is located on one of the busiest streets in the downtown area of the big city . . . lots of big businesses, civil offices, law enforcement agencies, court houses, bars, hotels . . . the hub of downtown.  It is a busy place.  There are also a lot of homeless people.

The fast food haven is only about a mile from the campus, so it makes for a quick, cheap, and far from nutritious meal . . . sort of what we used to call rectum rockets back in high school and college.  It was convenient . . . especially on a cold wintry day.  It was nice to be inside, having a semi-hot meal, out of the cold weather and snow.  Apparently lots of folks thought so, too.  The place was semi-full with people from around the downtown area, including the homeless.  It was a sort of “us” and “them” situation with everyone pretty much minding their own business . . . at least that is what I was trying to do as I scarfed down my cheap meal.

Two booths down from mine, a young woman in typical hospital worker garb—scrubs—sat down to wait for her meal to be brought to her.  She was bright eyed, smiling . . . enjoying the day, then suddenly an inebriated guy plopped himself down in the seat opposite her in the booth.  He was disheveled, his pants hanging below his buns, dirty, and slurring his speech as he spoke to the woman.  The young lady was no longer smiling.  Her demeanor went from being carefree to nervous.  The drunk attempted to speak to her . . . to talk to her, but she was having none of it.  All the while I attempted to divert my eyes from the situation.

Then the young lady disappeared for a second.  When she returned she went to another booth in the room . . . far, far away from the drunk sitting in her previous booth.  Soon a semi-burly employee showed up at the table with the disheveled drunk, telling him he had to leave the restaurant.  “But, I want to buy something to eat,” explained the guy as he stuck his hand in his pants to pull out a hand-full of change . . . that immediately fell out of his pocket and all over the floor.  You have to leave, someone complained, said the employee.  Now, people were beginning to watch the situation . . . some even left the booths near the situation.  But, the drunk was more intent on picking up whatever change had spilled out on the floor . . . mumbling, “I just want something to eat.”

Though it seemed like an eternity, the drunk was escorted out of the restaurant, within a few minutes.  The employee stood at the door, where the man fell down, scattering his coins once again, admonishing the guy to get out of there . . . to get off the property.  And, the man finally collected his coins and began stumbling across the parking lot.  Meanwhile, back in the building, there seem to be a sigh of relief . . . there was no longer the “us” and “them” . . . “them” was escorted out of the house.  Through it all, I just sat there.

Yeah, I just sat there.  I didn’t want to become involved.  I didn’t want to make a scene.  I didn’t want people looking at me helping the young lady, and I especially did not want anyone seeing me help the drunk man.  So, I just sat there . . . focused on the food in front of me . . . and, sighed when the employee came to deal with the situation.  So much for putting in practice what I preach . . .

When did we see you?  Remember that question that was asked by those individuals in heaven when Jesus was separating the sheep from the goats?  Jesus responded with a whole litany of situations in which the people saw him . . . when they helped the naked, poor, hungry, imprisoned, lost . . . the homeless. 

The big city where the university is located is the capital of homelessness in the state of Montana . . . the majority of homeless seem to be located smack dab in this community.  In the warmer months they are on the street corners with their signs begging for money . . . and, from a car or truck it is easy to ignore them.  In the colder months . . . well, they are more difficult to avoid because they come in.  They come into the places where people gather.  They come in to avoid the elements . . . to find a little warmth . . . maybe some food.  The boundaries, real and imagined, are blurred . . . the “us” and “them” get mixed up . . . and, often the “us” are uncomfortable.

I have always believed that whenever I or anyone else is put into a situation that makes one uncomfortable, that the uncomfortableness needs to be examined.  Why?  Why is there a feeling of being uncomfortable?  What is bringing on these feelings?  They need to be examined.  Maybe, once the homeless guy was removed, I should have dropped into my pastoral counseling mode, gathered everyone together in the restaurant, and had some group counseling to deal with all the feelings and emotions surrounding the uncomfortableness we had all experienced.  But, I already know the answers I would hear from everyone . . .

I doubt if anyone would have mentioned the story of Jesus separating the goats and sheep . . . would have mentioned, when did we see you?  I also doubt if anyone would have pointed out that the one individual who would be missing from the group was the homeless man.  Where was the homeless guy at our table?  Oh, yeah, he was stumbling out the parking lot . . . pants hanging down . . . coat unzipped . . . mumbling to himself . . . looking for some place to call home in the coldness of the winter.  I doubt if anyone really cared.

And, that is the rub.  I did nothing.

Yeah, I know all the statistics about homeless . . . I know that there are many, many variables that play into homelessness . . . I know that what is seen and experienced by most of us when it comes to homelessness is only the tip of the iceberg, and that it is bigger than most of us even imagine it to be.  I have heard all the hard sell stories about homelessness . . . all the pleas for charity to help the homeless . . . and, I know that there are worse stories that are never told or heard.  We all have . . . and, when actually confronted by the homeless . . . well, we are uncomfortable.  We don’t want to be bothered.  We want to look the other way.  I think that is the way that most people feel about the homeless . . . we want to look the other way . . . and, we do nothing.

Unfortunately, if I really am a follower of Jesus, this is unacceptable.  I should have gone up to the booth where the young lady was sitting when the homeless drunk plopped down across from her . . . introduced myself to both of them . . . started a conversation.  Not a conversation so much with the young lady, but with the man.  I doubt if it would have made much of difference, but maybe the uncomfortableness could have been avoided.  Maybe the guy wouldn’t have been thrown out.  Maybe I wouldn’t feel so guilty about having done nothing.  Who knows.

John Prine sang a song called Hello in There.  The song is not about the homeless, but the elderly.  In the chorus of the song, he sings:

So if you're walking down the street sometime

And spot some hollow ancient eyes,

Please don't just pass 'em by and stare

As if you didn't care, say, "Hello in there, hello."

Elderly . . . homeless . . . disabled . . . poor . . . borderland people . . . does it matter?  Does it matter when “us” don’t want to have anything to do with “them”?  As I said, I could have done something . . . started a conversation even though it would have solved none of the man’s problems . . . a conversation that would have acknowledged him as a human being, as a child of God . . . but, I did nothing.  Sometimes it is easy to walk by . . . the words echo . . . when did we see you?