By Rev. Robin GrayMinister, Unitarian Universalist Church of Tallahassee
Traveling in Alabama a few years ago, before I became a transplanted Southerner, I experienced two instances of helping that missed the mark.
I arrived after a journey made longer than necessary by two airline delays, to discover that the shuttle to my hotel was shut down for the night. With midnight chasing me, I hopped in a cab for a short ride. Perhaps it was my generous tip, or his generous nature, but, the cabdriver offered me some advice. “This is a good enough hotel,” he said, “but don't go outside at night. I mean it,” he repeated, as he handed me my suitcase, “This is a bad neighborhood, don't go out walking at night.”
He couldn’t have known that unlike Peggy Lee, Walking After Midnight is not one of my regular pursuits. Still walking down the dimly lit hall to my hotel room took on new and sinister meanings with my helpful cabdriver’s warning ringing in my ears. I’m sure the driver meant only to ensure my safety, but, he left instead a seed of doubt about my safety indoors or out. It interrupted my sleep and kept me hovering at the edge of being able to relax.
This brings us to a lesson in helpfulness. Our faith and traditions tell us that helpers are good people, probably better people than those who don’t help others, and so we become attached to the image of our helper selves, our good selves. We sometimes are so attached to that good person we will be when we’re helping someone else, that we ignore the totality of the human being who will be helped.
Like my cabdriver, we want to experience ourselves as helpers, more than we want to be truly helpful. Whenever you're about to embark on helping someone you need to know something about the person—their needs and their limitations— before striking out on your “crusade.” My cabdriver could have asked, Do you have to go out again this evening?” My travel weary “No” would have told him he didn't need to issue a warning on my account.
Helping can hurt. Helpers need to know why they are doing what they are doing, and who they are doing it for. The helpful impulse is often improved when the helper reflects on his or her needs, and spends time discovering what the intended “helpee” needs, wants and can tolerate. I had a second encounter that went awry the next morning.
The van driver who was to escort me from the hotel to the car rental booth displayed his Southern openness and candor by beginning a conversation about Medicare and Medicaid as I was settling in my seat. Attempting to overcome my Northern inbred reticence with a stranger so engaged my attention that I neglected to tell the driver that I wasn’t going to the airline departure gate.
As the van came to a stop, I responded to his solicitous question about which airline did I need to find with a casual reply that I was going to the rental desk. He gunned the van and insisted on “carrying” me around to the lower level. A second question about my eventual destination by car led him to helpfully begin giving me directions to Talledega. I had a map, I didn’t need directions, but, I couldn’t tell this kind man that. So, I politely absorbed his words while he drove.
When he exclaimed, “Oh, shoot,” slapped his forehead and tapped the brakes, I knew what was happening. Caught up in his efforts at helping, he’d once again missed the turn off for the lower deck. This time I disembarked and made the trek to my proper destination wondering how much helpfulness it takes to create an unhelpful situation.
