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September 13, 2010
Street Fair
By Tom Ehrich
Jesus said to the disciples, "There was a rich man who had a manager, and charges were brought to him that this man was squandering his property. So he summoned him and said to him, 'What is this that I hear about you? Give me an accounting of your management, because you cannot be my manager any longer.'” (Luke 16.1-2)
On a gray day that eventually turned to rain, seven of us worked a street fair on Third Avenue at 85th Street.
Wedged between bank giveaways and Tibetan clothing, our Lifeline booth offered two brochures and a simple invitation: come join us Sunday evenings for “restoration and hope.” All are welcome, whatever your faith or need for recovery.
In time, as we adjusted to the realities of street fair behavior, we each reduced our patter to a single phrase. Mine was, “This is something we’re doing to help.” I liked the simplicity of those words. We’re here to help, to make the world a little better.
 No judgment, no doctrine, no religiosity, no creed -- just a simple phrase, “We want to help.”
As it turned out, our neighbors from Ridgewood Bank knew about helping, too. They saw that we were street fair novices, so they shared trash bags and paper towels. As we packed up, one bank worker asked for a copy of our brochure.
What will come of this? I have no idea. In the world of helping, there is rarely a direct line between trying to make a difference and observing the difference made. “We’re scattering seeds,” said a Lifeline colleague.
I do know that our Lifeline gathering later that evening had a warm and inviting spirit. Lives touched by God will eventually become lives changed by God. Our duty is to give away what we have and not to “squander” it.
Many people ask, “Where would Jesus be today?” Many places, no doubt, but today I picture him working street fairs, a small presence in a busy marketplace, out among the merchants and customers, where worries about money are usually a cover for deeper worries about life itself.
He would give away a little food, a little touch, a homespun teaching, an invitation to “come and see.” I picture people gathering in small clumps as he tells a story. They would listen, be touched, then move on to another booth, not the same as before.
Over time, the forces of darkness would realize there was a light in their midst, someone who was undoing their damage and was making lives better, not worse. They would shut him down. But the light wouldn’t go out. For the life changed by God doesn’t easily return to its former state. The street changed by God doesn’t feel the same.
One who wants only to help can make a difference.
Ask me about Lifeline.
Follow me on Twitter @tomehrich, and on Facebook at tom.ehrich
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