A few days ago, I exited tram 25 at Letenske Namesti. I was on my way to Chris’s office because he was, as usual, running behind. The original plan was to synchronize a meeting at Vltavska (that is, I was to hop on a tram he was already on). It was scrapped. As I shuffled down the three steps and onto the pavement, I saw a shimmering reflection of light fall and clink sadly on the ground. A lady had dropped her keys. The keychain was a green bottle opener fastened to a ring. There were three keys on the ring. Another woman asked someone quickly if the keys were theirs, but got no reply. They lay stepped on and generally ignored during the following seconds. So I grabbed them. I walked to the crossing where I knew the lady to be - most who disembarked went that direction. I didn’t know exactly which person the keys belonged to and was readying myself to proclaim I’d found lost keys and were they any of yours… I was lucky. The first lady I spoke two claimed them. At my ‘prosim’, she looked at me, startled and actually a bit frightened, I believe. When she saw the keys, relief shown in her face, however.
I relate this because I thought about it several times in the ensuing hours. Had I done nothing, I believe I’d have been guilt ridden for much of the remaining day. Surely the feeling would have eventually passed (by evening, probably) but I’d have felt the pangs (like echoes strong but waning in power one after another). So, in the end, it was a selfish act. Is this what motivates the saint? The wish to wash away any possibility of negative feelings spawns the desire to aid others?
