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Years ago I worked for the San Francisco SPCA, and I made presentations to grade school children about humane pet care. I always impressed upon them that their pets need the same eight things that they do: food, water, shelter, clothing (I wasn’t advocating those cute little outfits for their pets, just a collar with an ID tag), training, grooming, medical care, and love.
Nearby was a supermarket, where I would sometimes walk on my lunch hour. There was a man who would sit at the entrance to the parking lot with his dog, and a cardboard sign asking for help. Sometimes I would come out of the store with a bag of dog food and hand it to him. My reasoning at that time for not bringing the man something to eat as well was that the dog was an innocent victim of the situation, but that the man should be able to help himself. He should just take whatever job he can get, and work his way back up. I blamed him for his predicament. Why wouldn’t he just get on with it? What was he waiting for? Why wouldn’t he just quit drinking, or quit being lazy, or whatever his problem was. Just pull himself up by his bootstraps and get over it. Why should I help him, when I was just struggling to make ends meet myself. I felt the same way when I would walk home to my apartment, and three people would ask me for money in one block. I remember saying that if I gave money to everyone who asked, I would be out there begging too.
I’ve come to learn that my initial reactions to people in need are very common. Many of us tend to believe that people can and should help themselves out of their predicaments. We wonder why they don’t try harder, and we believe the myth that they have chosen to live the way they do. But really, given appropriate options, who would choose to live outside during a Boston winter? Many of us also respond out of our own sense of scarcity, believing that if we give and give and give, then we will end up in need ourselves. The level of need out there simply feels overwhelming. It is too much for any of us to tackle alone, so we tend to just try to ignore it. When we walk by people begging on the street, we often look away and ignore them; we stay engaged in conversation with our companions, or we pretend to talk on our cell phones. Sometimes I think we are afraid that if we really look the person in the eye and recognize their humanity, that we might recognize something of ourselves in them. If we get to know their story, that we might hear something of our own story. If we come to know the person, and to be known by them, that we might recognize our own frailty and vulnerability in theirs. I might realize that by a couple twists of fate, or a couple of wrong turns, that could be me standing there with the cardboard sign and the paper cup. And that’s too scary to think about. So, instead, it is easier to draw a big fat line between me and him, to become “us” and “them”, to commit them to another category that is different from us. So instead of us all being people, children of God, fellow travelers on this earth experiencing different predicaments, we are “blessed”, and they are “the homeless” or “the needy” or “the less fortunate.” It makes them seem less than human, even less loved by God. We come to believe it, and so do they.
But we have to know that’s not true, right? Psalm 139 says that God knit us each together in our mothers’ wombs, and knows our inmost parts. God knows us intimately, and loves each of us completely, as God’s own special creation. If God can know us so well, and love us so much, shouldn’t we try to see each other through God’s eyes, and to love each other as God loves us? And I don’t just mean us right here, I mean all of us, all the people of this earth, whether we are experiencing homelessness, whether we are enjoying luxury, whether we are in material need, or in spiritual need.
Since I have come to know people who experience homelessness and material need, I have come to fill some of my own spiritual needs, even ones I didn’t know I had. I have discovered great freedom in learning from my congregation who carry all of their material belongings with them, just how little I actually need. It is incredibly freeing to discover that I can survive on very little. I have realized how burdensome material possessions can be, and have found some independence from them.
I have been privileged to hear some very difficult stories, and there’s one I’d like to share with you. A man named Joel was a factory worker. He had a wife and two children, and lived in an apartment in a modest suburb of Boston. One night, as he was about to end his shift, the foreman came to ask if he would stay to work the overnight shift, as they were shorthanded. Joel jumped at the opportunity to earn some overtime, as he was having trouble making ends meet. He called his wife to say that he loved her, asked her to kiss the kids for him, and said he’d see them in the morning. But he never saw his wife and kids again. During the night, there was a fire in the building where they lived, and his family was killed. The building was a complete loss. And Joel was never the same again. Not only was he instantly homeless, but emotionally devastated, as you can imagine. The worst part was that Joel blamed himself. He believed that if he had not taken that second shift, if he had been home, that he would have been able to save his family…should have saved his family. He’s angry at God, and angry at himself. And he tries to make up for it by taking care of everyone he meets. Not a bad thing in itself, but it has become an obsession for Joel. He can concentrate on nothing else. Joel was already struggling with some depression before the fire, but he was still able to function. Now his depression and his caretaking obsession are both so severe that he simply can’t function. He was on the streets and in and out of shelters for several years, and resorted to self-medication with alcohol to numb the pain. Now, ten years later, he lives in housing run by the Department of Mental Health, he drinks a lot less, and he attends common cathedral when he can manage it. While Joel does a lot of good for a lot of people, he can’t hold down a job. If Joel hadn’t blessed me with his story, and if I hadn’t gotten to know and to love him, I probably would look at him just like I did that guy with the dog in San Francisco and say, “he looks quite able to work. Why doesn’t he just get on with it?” And worse, I would probably have forgotten the eighth thing that I used to tell the kids that their pets and all of us need: LOVE.
The common cathedral community is full of people like Joel, each with their own unique and very complicated history. The common theme among them is tragedy, whether from abuse, war, accident or illness, or most often some combination of the above. Who knows what they were like before tragedy struck, and before they fell into homelessness. Substance abuse and mental illness (especially depression) are often involved, sometimes as a contributing factor to their homelessness, or sometimes as a result of their experiencing homelessness. In the face of all of that, many people have simply given up, and often don’t believe that they deserve anything better than what they have, so why would they try? If this feels overwhelming for you to hear about, think how it feels for the people who are living it.
But there is good news: At common cathedral, we form supportive spiritual community to help people rise above the despair and hopelessness that they feel so that they can advocate for themselves to receive the basic necessities of life. We meet them where they are – on the streets – and try to help them find some hope through witnessing to God’s love. Our ministers, volunteers, and partner congregations build relationships with the poorest people of Boston to walk with them on their journey, and to be the embracing, loving family that they need. Everyone needs a place where they are known by name, and where they can feel safe, loved and valued. Common cathedral is that “place”, that spiritual home, that family in which people who have experienced homelessness for a long time can begin to find hope for a better life.
A large part of Ecclesia’s mission is bringing together housed and unhoused people in spiritual community. When church groups visit common cathedral, they usually come because they want to help. They are often focused on feeding lunch and on filling the needs of others. But once they’ve been part of our worshiping community, stood side by side with people who live outside and praised the same God, held hands with them and proclaimed that we will overcome, by the end they’re usually telling me, “It was hard to tell who was homeless and who wasn’t. They’re just like us!” These faithful people, who come with the intention of feeding the poorest among us, are often surprised to find that they too were fed by the interaction.
Our common cathedral worship takes place every Sunday on Boston Common at the fountain, near the Park Street T stop. We gather in a circle around a portable altar. After blessing the bread and grape juice, we invite the people with the words “The gifts of God, for the people of God.” Then, while elevating the gifts, we turn 360 degrees (demonstrate). When I make this gesture, I understand it to mean that the gifts are for everyone, and that the people of God are everywhere – in front, behind and on all sides, even beyond range of my eyes. This gesture helps me to remember that the people of God are not just us, huddled inside this building, but the people of God are all of us, even those people out there, too.
Ecclesia Ministries needs your help now, more than ever – with more people in need, and fewer people in a position to help this year! Ecclesia is an independent, ecumenical organization, and is not directly financed by any denomination’s governing body. We depend on the generosity of congregations like yours, and individuals such as yourselves. We ask that when you and your congregation, and you and your family are considering your giving for the year, that you would remember Ecclesia Ministries. If any of you have connections to charitable foundations, we would love to be invited to apply for a grant. We’re always in need of volunteers for our regular programs, about which you’ll hear more after the service. And finally, we ask that you keep the common cathedral community in your prayers. Thank you for inviting me here today, and I look forward to showing you a brief movie and speaking with you after the service.
Amen.
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