The Panhandler In Panera: A Parable

    There was an op-ed piece in Saturday's New York Times praising the declaration by Pope Francis that giving to panhandlers is always right, that if anyone approaches you on the street asking for money then they're in need so  just give them the money, no questions asked, and don't worry about it.
​     Every Wednesday morning I meet at Panera with a group of friends that I call my Posse.

     There's a young man who now and then comes into our Panera and goes from table to table begging money from the customers.  His shabby clothes hang off his emaciated frame, his face is pale and drawn, he moves like a zombie but has twitchy manner about him.  I never give him money nor do my friends, though we've offered to buy him food. Like a naggy mother I've tried to press him to sit down and eat or drink something, a bowl of soup, a sandwich, some coffee, something, but he always refuses.  He just wants money.  Money for bus fare, he says in a torpid, listless voice. He can be persistent, and it aggravates me to see him  hovering over people sitting at their tables and booths.  I can't stand to watch people hesitantly pull out their wallets, I want to yell, No!  Stop! Don't give him that money!  But I don't yell it and people, our instinct to want to help each other being part of our nature, do give him money.  Especially the older people. 
       A couple of times I've sought out the manager.  Sometimes when the manager kicks him out he hangs around outside the restaurant to hit people up on their way in and out.  Once the manger called the police on him.
      Of course I only see him at Panera on the Wednesdays when I'm there.  I imagine he must come there on other days as well.  And he must have other places where he panhandles.
       Last Wednesday he was back again. He looked more haggard, more drawn, worse than ever.  After he tried without luck to pick up some money from my friends and I he stopped at the booth across from our table where there sat two middle-aged women.  It was the usual scenario: the women hesitated while he hung over them, waiting for them to relent, which they finally did.  Don't do it!  I tried to call to the women via mental telepathy as they dug into their purses.
      After the man ambled down the aisle looking for the next likely hand-out I impulsively sprung up, went over to the women in the booth and informed them that that guy comes here regularly, that he's just looking for drug money. 
     One of the ladies told me that that was between himself and God, that if someone asks her for money she's going to give it to them, it's not for her to decide what they use it for. 
      Duly humbled and put in my place by this disciple of Pope Francis, I returned to my seat, where I should have stayed in the first  place.
      Following his statement that one should always give money when approached for it, Pope Francis was asked, "But what if someone uses the money, say, for a glass of wine?" His answer was, “If a glass of wine is the only happiness he has in life, that’s O.K. Instead, ask yourself, what do you do on the sly? What ‘happiness’ do you seek in secret?”
       What I would like to ask Pope Francis is, "But what if someone uses the money to buy crystal meth?"

Reference
"The Pope On Panhandling,"
https://www.nytimes.com/2017/03/03/opinion/the-pope-on-panhandling-give-without-worry.html?_r=0