How the Lord Transforms

Two and half years have passed since Bhagavan Baba’s guidance re­solved what was to me a serious moral dilemma. The growing number of hun­gry and homeless people begging on the streets of New York City left me feeling helpless, sad, and guilty. His guidance changed all this very quickly. Never leaving home without carrying food to give has become for me a way of life that immediately began to eliminate the problem. To each needy person I say, “Excuse me, would you like to have a sandwich?” This has become a habit as ingrained as saying, “Good Morning!” and “How are you?” but with vastly different and surprising results.

I sought relief from a disturbing problem. What I received was a pro­found, gradual, ongoing character trans­formation. It did not come from a deeper study of the Lord’s teachings or from some miraculous revelation. It came almost imperceptibly, like a child’s growth. It came as His sure and unfail­ing grace comes when we listen to and apply His instruction and example. In this case, it came through the daily, steady practice of giving food to the hungry. It happened like this:

The first morning that I prepared sandwiches was most unusual. There were simply no homeless people around on the streets, on the subway, and not even one person during my lunch hour. I began to wonder if I had exaggerated the problem. This was not at all what I expected. By mid‑afternoon, I was so perplexed that I decided to take a walk around the office block. There was no one. As I was about to re‑enter my build­ing, I caught sight of the first person with a paper cup in his hand, and I went up to him and said, “Excuse me, would you like to have a sandwich?” His clear eyes held mine with a strong and steady gaze. He spoke very slowly and distinctly, with a long pause between each of his four words: “Thank … you … very … much” he said, and smiled and took the sand­wich and cookies.

Although his words were common enough, the cadence and feeling with which they were spoken stunned me. “Thank…you…very… much” were the last four words that my mother spoke before she died. Her words were spoken with the same slow cadence! I could not help but feel strongly that this was Bhagavan’s clear confirmation and blessing. It has proven to be just that.

From that point on, with each sandwich given, I have combined the service with the saying of His name and the seeing of His form. The food I give is His food and it is given to Him whom I see before me. Before speaking, I say silently within, “Swami,” and only then out loud, “Excuse me, would you like to have a sandwich?” The results are un­failing. Although on a rare occasion the food is refused, there is never any un­pleasantness, but rather a notable sweet­ness that is very uplifting. The Lord’s presence, the Lord’s example, has in­spired the giving of the food and the act of giving the food has strengthened my practice of namasmarana, saying His name. The practice of one supports the practice of the other, for they are one. He is One and there is no other.

Lessons from service

I am learning that it is not possible to love God without loving and serving Him in other people and serving other people binds us closer to Him, for the nature of love is expansion. The simple act of giving food daily did just that.

Very close to my apartment in New York City, clusters of homeless live in cardboard boxes. The local residents feel resentful, for they look dirty and smell bad. The commercial interests complain that they ruin tourist business. The newspapers complain that many are mentally unstable, alcoholics, and drug ad­dicts. Most people keep away from them, fearing that they may be dangerous. I had always avoided these temporary commu­nities. The police continually move them from one place to another. They are so­ciety’s throwaways.

Gradually, I came to know several of the homeless on the streets by name. I found that some were part of these cardboard cluster commu­nities and so I began to cross over and deliver food to them. “Pop” introduces me as his “Sandwich Man” and the name has stuck. Although the turnover in the groups is high, there are a few who are less transient. Over a period of time, all of them have taught me a great deal. I do not want to glamorize their serious plight but only to look at what has been gained from the experience. This is what I have learned:

They are so grateful for any simple act of kindness. I am grateful to the Lord for giving me this opportunity to serve.

They remind me how very little we really need to survive. I am determined to diminish my desires and to be thank­ful for what I have been given.

They are lost and confused. They remind me to make even greater efforts to fulfill the potential that He has given me. Saint Francis said, “While we have time, let us do good.” I must use His precious time to benefit society.

They live one day at a time. Their concern is now. I remind myself that the past is dust and the future is a product of today’s right action. Dedicating to Him what I think, say and do today is all that matters. Remembering that, all is always very well.

They share generously with each other. It has frequently happened that one person will say that others have not had food and their need is greater. “Give it to them.” Selfishness is reduced by the shared common experience. I try to remember to give more generously, for what I have is not mine but His.

They teach me humility, for they are constant reminders that I have much good to learn from all others.

They are aware of other forms of life. When I said that I had too much bread for the number of people, Rahim answered , “Don’t worry about too much bread. We will give it to the birds—they eat too.” I appreciate the reminder.

They need love for survival as ur­gently as they need food. One day, when I ran out of food, I avoided walking near them. A woman from the group ran across that street to ask why I hadn’t come to them. I explained why. “Even if you don’t have food, come by. Good people are important.” I am reminded that we live not by bread alone.

They teach me that giving isn’t work, it isn’t an obligation, it is Grace. It is the highest form of happiness.

Growing response

In order to save both time and money, I began to buy food supplies in bulk and that simplified everything. One day, a sandwich fell out of my shoulder bag when I had a business meeting at an excellent mid‑town restaurant. The man­ager wondered why I carried them. The answer led to my asking what the restau­rant did with left‑over food. “We aren’t allowed to keep it,” she said, “So we give some to the staff and throw the rest out.” I asked if the owners would consider giving the food to me for distribution to the homeless. It took several weeks of discussion before it was agreed to allow me to distribute left‑over food.

In the year and a half since then, I pick up the leftover food four or five nights a week. Al­though initially hesitant, the restaurant staff have become enthusiastic about their participation. After a while, they became aware of how the food was being used and I can always count on a smil­ing, cheerful greeting. “We couldn’t find your phone number yesterday, and we all felt so badly that so much food went to waste,” the manager said after the first few months. Clearly, there has been a change of consciousness on the part of the entire staff of the restaurant. They are all happy to be part of a company that helps others. Their happiness shows.

With a greater supply of food, help was needed in the distribution and that too developed easily and quickly. An elevator operator in my building, who lives in another part of the city, asked if he and his father could help give out food. They now do that regularly. “We were concerned about doing this at first,” Albert said “but after just a few times, we knew that this is a very good thing to do. There are so many people out there who are hungry, including children too. When I went on vacation, I felt that something important was missing from my life. It’s such a wonderful thing for us.”

Some devotees help out as well whenever needed. Then came the sur­prise of a national TV Christmas inter­view (1991) on this homeless service that I had initiated. As a result, others have started to do the same thing both here and elsewhere. How widespread the serv­ice is I cannot tell, nor is it so important. It is the love with which it is done that matters. It is the giving of the Lord’s love that counts. I remember Saint Matthew’s words “Whatsoever you do unto the least of these, you do unto Me.”

Baba banishes fear

Tests and trials are not what we seek, yet we welcome the passing grade. As we take one step up, His hand helps us to take the next one. Step by step, He uses experience to teach, to uplift, and to transform us.

Knowing the city well, I am natu­rally careful about where I go and when and have always been quick to take any detour, to avoid a troublesome situation. I accepted the fact that my more cautious than courageous nature would never change. Then an experience on a New York subway early on an April Sunday evening showed me that He had guided me up an important step.

Return­ing home from a visit in Brooklyn, I found the subway car was not crowded. Seated opposite me were five tourists from the mid‑West, three adults and two children. From their conversation, it was clear that this was their first ride on the New York subway system. They noted that the door to the next car was broken so there was no access from our car to the next. This was a big adventure for them. The children were excited and the adults apprehensive.

At the next stop, the attention of all the passengers was drawn to the far end of the car where a man entered. He was tall and powerful look­ing with disheveled hair, dirty clothes, and erratic movements. Dragging behind him two large black plastic garbage bags, he looked wild. His voice was loud and threatening as he demanded money. The tourists opposite me were terrified. Their worst nightmare was being enacted be­fore them. Friends had warned them of the dangers of visiting New York and here they were, trapped and menaced. Why hadn’t they listened? The man came closer, his voice louder and more abu­sive. People gave money. He moved slowly down the car.

My first reaction was not very different from that of the tourists opposite me, but it was short lived. Immediately, the flash of fear disappeared and I heard myself saying silently, “Swami, please help. Swami, please help,” over and over again. Then I found myself getting up from my seat and as the man approached, I took sev­eral steps towards him, looked at him and then actually heard myself say what I always say, “Swami,” (spoken silently within) “Would you like to have a sand­wich?” He just stared at me, eye to eye and then, in the smallest voice imaginable, he said, “I’m… so… hungry,” and he took the sandwich and the cookies from my hand and sat down next to where I had been sitting. He ate the food so quickly, with such relish that there was no doubt of the need. I was seated next to him when he finished and he then turned to me, his eyes no longer wild, but gentle, and he very softly whispered, “Thank you.”

The train pulled into the first stop in Manhattan. The five tourists raced for the salvation of the open doors. The man slowly followed, dragging his garbage bags behind him. The doors closed and I returned home enriched by the experi­ence. He had given me clear evidence that all transformations are possible and all are His grace.

His guidance taken and applied
Seeds courage and strength inside
The Lord’s presence dissolves fear
Steady practice brings Him near.

~Hal Honig, New York
Source: Sanathana Sarathi, May 1993