Meals On Wheels — There’s No Such Thing As A Free Burrito
The President’s proposed budget made news last week for a number of reasons, each more interesting than the last. Not least of which is the plan to cut funding for one the nation’s longest standing charity food programs, Meals on Wheels. The threat to this and other similar organizations raises any number of questions about the condition of society. Chiefly to my mind, “who gets to eat and why?”
My wife, Gia, and I managed to sneak away to our favorite burrito bar for a quick lunch this weekend, something we haven’t managed in about six months. It was a brisk day (what’s up with March in the Midwest, right?), so we were especially pleased to find that the space closest to the door was empty as we pulled into the lot. “Rockstar parking,” I quipped as we dismounted the trusty minivan and excitedly shambled through the door.
Inside we found a bustling hive of activity, along with a healthy line of patrons queuing up for the goods, so I excused myself to the restroom having calculated that I’d have plenty of time before our turn to order. A few minutes later when I returned to the line, I found that several new customers had joined the mass of people patiently waiting to be graced with the attentions of the quasi-Mexican-food artisans — burrito-baristas. Six months of anticipation and we were at peak lunch-burrito-excitement, so I tried to carefully weave my way to the front of the line and my waiting wife, but I was absolutely giddy and I couldn’t help myself when I got to the young gentleman in line directly behind Gia.
“I beg your pardon, sir, may I cut in line?”
“Sure, no worries!”
He’d replied with a smile and a kindly expression —completely genuine and un-ironic. Did I see him bow slightly? In any event Gia and I were both taken aback by the warmth of this young person’s manner, and we all had a nice chuckle as we explained that I was with Gia and wouldn’t be technically needing cuts but thank you just the same.
As we began to place our orders, Gia scooted in close and whispered “I’d like to buy that man’s lunch.” “Ok, yeah.” I went to pay and told the person on register, “and whatever he’s having.” When the nice young man behind us in line saw his burrito being bundled along with our order he began to protest, “Actually! That one was separate!” Gia and I began to try to explain the situation, “we’ll just be buying your lunch is all…” and the shock was almost tangible. He was completely unprepared for this possibility and continued to protest, so I gently deflected, “what’ll you have to drink?” “I, I, don’t want anything. I don’t want anything.”
We paid for the meal, accepting the young gentleman’s profuse thanks (I’d hoped to avoid that bit, but he caught us in the act) and we strolled off to tuck into our long anticipated lunch.
Now, there are three things about this series of events that stood out to me. Firstly, there was such a low expectation for those around us that we were flabbergasted by a kindly young person. Secondly, there was such a low expectation for those around him, that the young man was flabbergasted by the kindness of a strange couple. Thirdly, we gave a meal to someone who, as far as we could tell, didn’t need our charity. And that’s the bit I want us to reflect on.
I often find myself drawn into the conversation surrounding what Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. called programs of social uplift. Whether it’s SNAP, or Medicaid, or shelter for the homeless, or college tuition assistance, or school lunches, or Meals on Wheels, the arguments invariably come round to questions like “why should I pay for that,” or “why does this person merit a handout,” and “isn’t it stealing to take my money and feed someone against my wishes?” There’s always a kind of appeal to some moral standard that prohibits people from heartily supporting these programs. We want to withhold charity from people until they jump through our hoops and look like we want them to look and prove that they are “worthy” of assistance. It’s in some ways in the same vein as people who would never give money to a beggar in the street because they “might buy booze with it.” (By the way, the Pope says, “if a glass of wine is the only happiness he has in life, that’s O.K.”)
The young man in our story didn’t need our help. By all appearances he was well able to handle his own meal. The only thing we knew about him was that he had been briefly kind to me, and that he was hungry. For the moralists in the room, and in light of the story I’ve just told, I’d like to clear just one thing up.
The only moral prerequisite for feeding another human being is that they are hungry. Period. That’s it.
We can and should talk about the very real problems that face us as we strive to grow as a society and our social programs are not exempt from those conversations. Graft and corruption do exist and they are a real and serious drain which must be addressed. But our conscience demands and should only be clear when we recognize that every man, woman, and child is deserving of life-sustaining food by dint of their humanity and nothing more. No free lunches. We decide to pay for it because all people are worth it.
