Editorial: The humiliation of the working poor

Issue of Feb. 27, 2009 / 3 Adar 5769

Almost more than anything else, she looked like she needed a hug. But myriad other considerations aside, that wouldn’t happen because it might have drawn attention to the hurried whispers of a conversation she and a stranger were conducting behind a checkout counter at Target Monday night. They were behind the magazine rack trying to keep out of sight of her 10-year-old son, and the stranger’s two children waiting on the next aisle; all the more so after she burst into tears and fought to regain her composure.

He had noticed her first but pretended not to, so as to not embarrass her. It was almost 10:00 p.m., just before closing, and she was at the checkout accompanied by her son, and a baby carriage, seeming to wish the floor would open beneath her as the cashier carefully counted a large pile of change.

The stranger and his daughter and son moved to the next aisle. He was studiously ignoring the scene playing out four feet to his left when suddenly she appeared, and motioned for his attention. He walked over and she, trying to sound casual, said, “How would you like to do a mitzvah (good deed)?”

He understood at once that the pile of change had not gone far enough; he reached for his wallet.

“Of course. How much do you need?”

She couldn’t seem to look him in the eye as she held up two fingers then burst into sobs.

She seemed to crumble and her shoulders heaved as she explained that she was buying formula for the baby; that she tried to put him to sleep without it but he wouldn’t settle down; that she had taken the change out of a pushka (charity box) in her home; that she wasn’t going to be paid until Friday. Worst of all, she said, was that her older son witnessed his mother’s humiliation.

No names were exchanged, no questions were asked –– not about her husband’s whereabouts or what she does for work or where she lives. The stranger just tried to comfort her, gave her whatever dollars were in his wallet, and then some more using the cash back feature on his debit card. Then, shaken, he went home to his wife and rehashed the episode until 2:00 a.m., with both wondering if he had done enough.

The stranger thought about her again the next evening during a very enjoyable wine tasting event in Manhattan. A conversation with several friends and associates turned to the economy and the growing crisis of poverty in the Jewish community. He recounted the event of the previous evening and acknowledged having a strong feeling of ‘There but for the grace of G-d go I.’

Referring to the $100 fee most of the attendees had paid to sample fine wines and enjoy an excellent buffet, another man in the conversation wondered aloud how many people in the room had given $100 to charity very recently?

Probably quite a few, we would hope, and there’s no reason not to spend one’s own honestly obtained funds on wine or any other lawful leisure pursuit. Still, the question should keep each of us thinking about the awful level of need that has arisen recently –– more than existed at this time last year, or even six months ago.

It’s quite clear that there are formerly middle class members of our community who have been reduced to circumstances in which they might never have expected to find themselves. It goes without saying then, that some others are truly penniless, with each paycheck just not going far enough –– the frustration and humiliation of the working poor.

Each of us needs to dig deep, very deep, to help however and whenever we can. Because each of us should recognize that “There but for the grace of G-d go I.”