Here's a thought on general morality.
Saturday night the brakes went out in my car and I had to crash into a dumpster to stop it. Duly shaken, I called a tow truck to come get me. Being that I was not in my hometown and didn't know where to go, I asked the guy if he knew anyone who fixed brakes, so he took me to a friend of his, a Mexican guy who spoke very little English.
Now, to get the full picture, you have to know that the tow truck looked like it shouldn't be running, the guy was a crusty looking redneck with long white hair and no teeth. His friend's house was a hovel and he had several cars on blocks in the backyard where he did his work. Tony (the towing guy) then proceeded to tell me I owed him $60 for the tow, but not to pay him until I knew how much it would cost to fix the brakes, as I had told him exactly how much money I had on me. He then took me all over town during the course of the day, which was now Sunday, to seven different auto parts stores to get all the parts I needed, bought me lunch, took me to his house (also a hovel) so I could take a nap, made me coffee and never once complained about the pain in the ass I obviously was in his life. Then he drove me past several strip clubs on his side of town that I didn't know about so I could make more money when my car was working again.
During the course of the day, he told me stories of his drunken adventures interspersed with stories of the misfortunes of others he had helped so as to make me feel better about my own situation.
This man lived in a house that was not square or level. The roof leaked. He had VERY modest furnishings and very little food in the fridge. He did, however, have a large bag of dogfood and plenty of water for his dogs, and a big puddle in the front yard that he kept full with the garden hose for the neighborhood squirrels who might be hot in the summer sun. Several people of questionable character stopped by asking if he had any odd jobs for them to do- he directed them to whatever friend they were suited to work for. Many of these people were obviously dependant on him for their meals.
Overwhelmed by my experience with the generousity of the human spirit, I told this story to a friend of mine when I got back home, and he immediately asked me if I prayed, because I had just met an angel. This man was no angel! For some reason, that just rubbed me the wrong way. This was a human being, who made the choices he did because it was his will to do so. He had other options, he CHOSE to do good, because that is simply how he lived his life.
I think it's sad that we tell our children that Santa Claus brought them presents on Christmas rather than telling them "I bought these things for you because I love you". That day, I was struck by the fact that this man showed me kindness because he was a good man, not because he feared God. Truth is, I don't imagine he was very religious at all or it would have come up in the ten hours we spent together.
Before I left that day, he lent me $20 in addition to everything else he had done so I could get dinner and smokes.
Many who love God would have done exactly the same thing, but many would have done far less. I don't know what I'd have done myself. On a good day, I'd have helped out, although I doubt I'd have gone that far. What's clear to me is that religion and morality are not synonymous, you can have one without the other, in either direction. It would have been easy to dismiss this weather-worn, booze guzzling guy as a creep if I had judged by appearances only, passed him off as a loser from looking at his house and cars- but this was a genuinely decent person who lived in abundance from his perspective, because all his needs were met and he had plenty to share and the will to do so. What could be more Christ-like than the kindness to a stranger this man showed me?
So, the brakes are fixed, I spent about three hundred dollars less than I would have had I gone to a shop. I now know a mechanic I couldn't have spoken to otherwise, I have two new clubs to sell my wares in. I got Tony's phone number because I talked to a drunk in a bar about my car- a manic depressive sociopath who was contemplating suicide and came there to escape his house. He bought some outfits from me that night, and I would have neither had the money to fix my brakes that were to go out only an hour later nor Tony's number had it not been for him. So who is moral? Is it the man who looks good but talks down his nose at you, or the man who is desperately struggling, but does good anyway?