A guest column by Michael J. Groetsch – nola.com

While leaving Immaculate Conception Church on Baronne Street recently, I  became dismayed at how desensitized we have become to the plight of  homeless people who wander aimlessly on the streets of New Orleans. As I  walked in stride with a blind beggar dressed in tattered clothing and  holding a cardboard sign and metal cup, I noticed how many well-dressed  pedestrians avoided eye contact with a man who can no longer see. I  stuffed a $5 bill into the blind man's cup and declared its value. He  immediately took it from his can, placed it into his right shirt pocket  and expressed his appreciation.

As I turned onto Canal Street and walked toward the Mississippi  River, the feel of a cool breeze suddenly caressed my face and reminded  me that it was early fall. The change of seasons always seems to nurture  our spirits. That is, of course, if you do not live among the street  people who must endure the frigid elements of winter.

As I  proceeded towards the river, I noticed the silhouette of a ragged man in  the near distance stretched sideways on the concrete sidewalk. Attached  to his back was a tiny checkered knapsack. A pint bottle of whiskey  protruded from the waistband of his khaki pants.

My first  impression was that he was in a drunken stupor. But as I passed him, I  noticed that his dark eyes remained wide open and glazed. On second  thought, I wondered if he was dead. But like the others who stepped over  him, I continued to walk. I guess that looking away protected me from  feeling another's pain.

But it immediately occurred to me that if  the fallen man was a stray or sick dog, most of us would have stopped to  provide assistance. Why is it, then, that we are so quick to walk past a  person lying motionless on our city sidewalks?

Is it fear? Is it  class consciousness? Is it because we feel so helpless in assisting  someone we feel can no longer be helped? In a spate of guilt, I returned  to see if the homeless man was OK. As I approached a second time, he  slowly rolled onto his back. His subtle movements confirmed my initial  impression that he was alive but heavily intoxicated. Feeling somewhat  relieved, I continued my stroll past the small shops and tall elegant  palm trees that line historic Canal Street.

Having worked with the  homeless, I recognize that the subculture of people who live within our  urban landscape are an eclectic group in which rehabilitation is often  not a viable option. The street subculture is heavily populated with  mentally ill people who have been callously deinstitutionalized, chronic  alcoholics and substance abusers who are rarely motivated to change and  severely under-socialized individuals who simply do not fit into the  mainstream of society.

They are human, however, and like the  helpless stray animals that wander our city streets, we have the  responsibility to assist when it becomes apparent that they are in  physical or medical distress.

Mahatma Gandhi once noted that "the  greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way  its animals are treated." So can be said relative to how our community  treats fellow humans who are down and out in life.

Treating  homeless people to a free meal or perhaps paying the costs for their  shelter for a week would be a good start. Volunteering or donating money  to Ozanam Inn, the New Orleans Mission or a health care facility that  assists the homeless would be a good finish. As is the case with  Gandhi's statement, the greatness of New Orleans and its moral progress  can be judged by the way we treat our homeless.

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