STUDENT PERSPECTIVE Chapel Reflections
GIVING MEG FOSTER ’15
It was August when my sister and I were exploring the Downtown Mall, wandering
from shop to shop, and probably getting some pizza: a totally normal day. Tere was one stretch of the mall that we tended to stay on, because it had all of our favorite stores and restaurants, so we just strolled along that one section and casually window-shopped.
Tere was an old homeless man sitting against the wall of a building on our pre- ferred stretch. He had been sitting there all day, with a paper cup in one hand containing some change, and everything he was wear- ing was filthy and had holes in it. Overall, he looked like he could use more than just someone’s spare change. Most of the day, I had been avoiding him, simply because I felt guilty whenever I didn’t give my change to those in need. I just didn’t know who to trust; there was no assurance that they wouldn’t spend the money on drugs or alcohol. So ev- ery time we approached the area in which he was sitting, I casually switched to the other side of the mall, in hopes of avoidance.
By the time we had leſt the mall, we had man- aged to cross over three times and I had suc- cessfully ignored the destitute man. It had been a fun day, but I couldn’t help but feel overwhelmingly guilty. I felt like such a hor- rible person for literally going out of my way to avoid helping this man. But I did have rea- son, didn’t I? I had no idea what he would do with the money. What if he was just out on that corner begging, because he was looking
CHAPEL TALK MATTIE MEEKS '19
Chapel to me is like church because it’s a time where we can all sit down and think about life and the future and the past. Chapel is where we can all come together and pray and worship God.
We sing beautiful songs played on piano by our own music teacher, Mrs. Layman. We have flowers and candles. Two fourth graders snuff and light. Mr. Brennan, our principal, shares poetry kids have written and announcements of events that have happened during the week or will happen next week.
to feed an addiction? Giving him the money would have only supported his use of drugs or alcohol. But then again, what if that as- sumption was all wrong? What if none of that even applied? He could have just been a man who was down on his luck and needed the extra change to get him his next meal. If that was the case, I was, indeed, a horrible person. I was leſt with a question: was it al- ways right to give? I lay in bed that night, contemplating whether I had done the right thing. Something told me I hadn’t.
Months passed and I soon forgot about the old man. I continued to avoid all the needy who asked for change, and walked on. None of the beggars had the same effect on me as the one from back in August had. I went back to my normal life and the poor man faded out of my memory, until one day in November when I was on the mall again, with my sister.
It was another typical day of shopping and exploring. I remember it being a bit cold for November, but I had my jacket and a wool hat I had bought that day, so I was comfort- able. We had just walked out of a pizza joint, on our favored block, and were heading to- ward one of our regular stores, which was just a few shops down, when I caught sight of a homeless man with a familiar face and famil- iar torn clothes. It was the same man as that fateful day all the way back in August. It was clear that he did not remember me; I was just another person who had kept on walking; to him, I had no further significance. We were quickly approaching where the man deject- edly sat, and I panicked, not knowing what to do. Looking up, I made contact with the
man’s sorrowful eyes, and hastily diverted my gaze, but it was too late, because he had seen me. “Spare some change?” he pleaded, raising his cup. I kept walking.
As I moved on, questions, buried in my sub- conscious, were evoked, and called upon again. I was soon flustered and lost in a world of thought. Te same circumstances as be- fore applied, and the problem was just as impossible to resolve. But what was the right thing to do? Was it always right to give? Te questions played nonstop in my head. In the eyes of logic, the answer was obvious: the man could not be trusted to put the money to good use; he was out on the streets for a reason. But my gut told me different. My gut urged me to help the man. It wasn’t my place to judge him; as long as I gave, it was up to the man to take the next step. Te fact that I helped would never waver.
So I turned around. I walked back and be- gan to quicken my pace as I became surer that what I was doing was right and that I had come up with a response to the unsolv- able question. Is it always right to give? I was now sure of the answer. Yes. It doesn’t matter what the person does with your aid, as long as you took the step to help them. At last, I was standing before the vagrant. I fumbled with my wallet and opened it, retrieving my do- nation. Slowly, I shiſted forward and placed a folded up five dollar bill in the man’s cup. “Tank you. God bless,” the old man said, full of gratitude and meaning. I turned and leſt, and as I returned to my sister, I looked back to see the man still staring at me, truly thankful. I knew I had done the right thing.
What I like about Chapel is that it’s not just a time where we all gather together. It’s also a time where we have a moment of time to pray and ask God to forgive us for our sins that we’ve done. What I also like about Chapel is that it’s so beautiful. It teaches you not the teaching of education but teaching of what to do.
What Chapel means to me is that we can all join together and sing and pray. It’s a place where we all share the time we have with God. What Chapel means to me is really to thank God for letting us be where we are now. It also is about giving. We give our love to others who need it, like people who don’t have much food – so we give food to the food bank. We also give love to our school and Haiti and God and our Chapel.
ST. ANNE’S-BELFIELD SCHOOL – 27
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