It’s interesting to think about how words came into being. Here’s one that is rarely used today: mendicant. Ask someone what he does for a living and if he answers, “I’m a mendicant,” then most of us would be left wondering what he meant. Had he said, “I’m a panhandler,” then there would have been no doubt about his work; it has nothing to do with handling pans, but begging; as does mendicant. Panhandling first was used in 1894, according to Merriam-Webster and probably derives from holding out one’s arm, palm up, like a handle attached to a pan.
Begging has been with us since ancient times, as shown by the derivation of mendicant from the Latin, mendicans, meaning “to beg.” In those times, it did not have the degrading connotation with which we associate begging today. In fact, many religious orders with such luminaries as St. Francis supported themselves by begging; it was an honorable way to finance their good works. In the Middle Ages churches issued a permit to allow the practice and those who didn’t qualify begged anyway and were called “palmers.”
Not so today. In cities and towns around the world, begging is a way of life and in the United States it does not approach the prominence it does in some developed countries, particularly India.
It is difficult to imagine the desperation one must feel in resorting to begging. It is difficult for us to know how to deal with the panhandler. The most common way is to avoid eye contact and walk on by or not look at them if stopped in traffic. If they render a “service, “ such as cleaning your windshield with a greasy cloth or offering you a donut of dubious heritage, then it becomes a different type of encounter. If you respond courteously with eye contact, generally it is received well, even if no money is given. No one, even panhandlers, likes to be ignored.
Roanoke has had a reputation of being a friendly place for the panhandler. Who among us has not seen the hand-lettered sign asking for work and offering God’s blessing? Several years ago, the police began to enforce the law against such practices, and it is less common now.
But the question remains about what to do. Here is someone in real need, for reasons that are totally unknown and may be beyond their control. The real concern is if you give them money, what will they do with it? Or if you do not, what will their reaction be.
On one occasion, the driver was pejoratively perusing the street-corner panhandler who took offense at the scrutiny, crouched by the car glaring through the window and wildly rummaging through his shopping bag. Fellow travelers began to go through the red light, fearful of what might be produced from the bag. It turned out, not to be a brick but a bag of popcorn which he violently flung at the offending driver, then defiantly placed his hands on his hips with a, “Take that! You S.O.B.!” Some encounters can be dangerous but one never knows.
But there is another story that shows a different side. A minister in a large church in downtown Atlanta was stopped by a drunk when he walked from his office door. “Will you give me $10, preacher?” “What will you do with it?” he asked, expecting some tale of woe. Instead, the man answered, “I’m going to spend it on whiskey.” The minister, rather than judgmentally walking away from a self-imposed problem, said, “Come with me,” and took him into the nearest liquor store where he bought him a fifth of Wild Turkey. He gave it to the drunk with the words, “I care what happens to you and hope you will find a better way.”
Six months later, the minister was leaving the church and an immaculate gentleman in a black suit, white shirt and Brooks Brothers tie approached him. “You won’t remember me but last winter when I was in the midst of a six-week drinking binge, you took me to the liquor store. What you did and said made me turn the corner. I haven’t had a drink since you bought me that bottle. I’m back at my law practice and with my family. Thank you.” He turned and walked away without a backward glance.
That story was remembered when an acquaintance of the minister saw a homeless man asleep under a sheet of plywood in the freezing rain. He roused him, gave him some money and said, “I care about what happens to you. Find yourself a warm, dry place tonight.” Chances are good that money went up his nose but one never knows. It might have been a turning point. One hopes so. Walking by surely would not have been helpful.
Hayden Hollingsworth
