“Ana, can you get me a drink of water?” 

It was the second week of Lent. Words that might otherwise have been innocuous so closely echoed Jesus’ words to the Samaritan woman. And they were being offered to me by a beggar in Newtown. 

“Beggar” is not a term many people use today. Yet it places this man squarely within the gospel narratives: among those whom Jesus noticed, valued, and loved. 

In Jesus’ day, beggars were considered unclean. The health conditions that plagued some were considered a curse from God. Beggars were often shunned, despised, and treated as an inconvenience to be hidden away from public view.  

But that was not how Jesus responded to them. In the story of Bartimaeus, when he first tries to get Jesus' attention, others attempt to silence him. Jesus does the opposite. He notices him, calls him forward, and asks: "What do you want me to do for you?" Bartimaeus asks for his sight to be restored – and Jesus responds in kind. 

“There is an uncomfortable parallel between proposed Move-On Orders—which allow people to be directed away from public spaces and potentially criminalised for non-compliance—and the way beggars were treated in Jesus’ day. ”

Jesus offers clear, unequivocal teaching to the crowds on this. In Luke 6:30, he commands, “Give to everyone who asks you… Do to others as you would have them do to you.” I frequently qualify Jesus' command. Yet those qualifications can reveal how readily I prioritise self-righteousness, self-comfort, and self-preservation over the costly generosity that Jesus embodied. 

Although I often give food to those who ask, there are many times when I do not. However much I may try to justify it, I am disobeying Jesus’ words every time I do so. Jesus’ words are simple and straightforward. It is my own self-obsession that leads to a more complex reading rather than the simple act of love, generosity and compassion that my Lord commands. 

As I was trying to put this reflection on paper outside a favourite cafe, that same beggar sat down next to me on a bench. As he left, a member of the public who was walking by stopped to tell me that I shouldn’t help those who won’t help themselves. He asked me what I did for work. When I explained that I was a Bishop, he commented “Oh, I suppose you should help the vulnerable then. But I worry about other people being taken advantage of.” 

After our conversation, this concerned member of the public carried on his way - but I found his words confronting as I continued to reflect on the reality on our streets. The week before, I heard a commotion outside our local supermarket while I was inside. One man was chasing and whipping another with the chain end of a dog leash. The beaten man fell between parked cars next to the curb as the other stood over him, continuing the assault. As I approached, I imagined the place where Jesus would place himself. Jesus would shelter the man on the ground from the one standing over, taking the blows on his own back. No questions asked about whether the man on the ground was deserving of protection – the cross tells us that Jesus selflessly offers everything to those who are undeserving.  

By the time I arrived on scene, other witnesses had already intervened, and the police had been called.  

These experiences came to mind as I prepared for a submission on the proposed Move-On Orders. Others have already outlined the concerns from the perspectives of law enforcement, social work, child protection, and youth development. Many point out that the proposed orders are not only ineffective but may actively undermine efforts to support people experiencing poverty, high and complex needs, or homelessness. 

As a follower of Jesus, I find the proposed orders particularly problematic because of the way they include children, those begging and those experiencing homelessness. This is not a law aimed at aggressive or disorderly behaviour that affects public safety. Those powers already exist. Nor is the law aimed at addressing poverty or homelessness. If it were, the resources that will go into enforcement, prosecution and incarceration would be diverted towards those providing evidence-based support and solutions.  

I recognise that I am still struggling to love others as Jesus did. I cannot write with the authority of someone who has all the answers, and there are all sorts of nuances that these reflections do not capture. But I know this much: the God I worship consistently moved toward those others wished to move on. He gave freely, not because people were deserving, but because they were loved. He gave even when it cost him everything. 

That’s the direction in which Jesus calls me—as His follower-to walk in.