St. Amand and his demon or how do we know who's knocking at our door? (ps. Fountain 55)

    I had intended to finish the Saint-Junien and Fountain 55 post and move on to Fountain 56

 however a dip into Wikipedia-land has struck a chord with me.

                                             


                                           
                                                             St. Amand and his demon
                                                 

The history of the town of Saint-Junien began around AD 500.

Saint Amand, an ascetic of Hungarian origin, was visited at his cell late in the night by Junian, a young noble lad from the north of France. Amand, afraid that the knock at the door was possibly a demon, did not answer, leaving Junian no option but to spend the night outside. During the night there was a terrific blizzard, however the snow miraculously spared the young lad. The next morning Junian returned again to Armand's cell, where in the reassuring light of day, he was recognised for who he was: an earnest young man from a good family.
 Junian became a disciple of Saint Amand and lived as a hermit until his death.

Already by 593, the traffic of pilgrims to the saint's tomb had impressed the great
Gallo-Roman historian, Gregory of Tours, who mentioned it in his writings.
Soon an abbey was built and the city expanded until 866 when the Vikings
 came along and destroyed it.
In the 1200s fortified city walls were built to protect the town and in 2013 I passed through without so much as a glimpse.

However, the particular chord I am referring to is "how do we recognise who is earnest?"

In small towns the problem doesn't really present itself. However, in the city,
I am frequently entreated to put coins in grubby hats,
disfigured hands, sparkling white paper cups from McDonald's, etc. etc.
Old men with filmy eyes play accordions, young men juggle clubs on unicycles at traffic lights, mothers nurse spindly legged toddlers....who am I to trust?

And as I shake my head and avert my eyes or feebly smile and fumble for some coins,
I feel terrible.
I feel like the bad Samaritan who looked away and ignored someone in need.
I feel like a gullible fool aware that when the takings are counted it most likely will
 exceed my humble income.
I feel like part of the problem as I am supporting a corrupt and cruel system of exploitation.

Of course, I am no wiser and have no answers,
but I feel slightly comforted that I am in good company.
 Despite a life dedicated to prayer, simplicity and a trust in God, even Saint Amand wasn't sure who was knocking at his door.