The Trip is Over, The Journey Continues

Twenty-four states, from Portland, Maine to Portland, Oregon.  Over 6,000 miles by car, plus two flights to the west.  Twenty-two ministries serving the homeless and a conference in support of the people in those ministries.  Six national parks, numerous state parks, and miles and miles of beautiful scenery.  Oh, and one earthquake and one hurricane.  I can't tell you how often the song, "This Land is Your Land" played in my mind as we traveled.  What an incredible sabbatical.  There is no way to adequately express my thanks to the Louisville Institute and to the people of St. John's for making this adventure possible.

What have I learned?  I learned that there are people throughout the nation who care deeply for others, people who will do whatever it takes to demonstrate Christ's love to other people who haven't seen much evidence of that in their lives.  I learned that the traditional boundaries of "church" too often block the real ministry of the Church.  I learned that people who are without homes, people who may be in the grip of drug or alcohol abuse or mental illness, have a great deal to teach all of us more "fortunate" folks about faith and prayer and unconditional love.  And I learned that the whole Body of Christ must take more seriously our commission to preach the gospel to the ends of the earth, to move out of our comfort zones and go where Jesus went.  He spent most of his time with lepers and prostitutes and other "unclean" children of God.  When he spent time with the the educated and privileged, he didn't miss the opportunity to call them back to what was essential for people of faith, i.e. loving God and loving neighbor. 

We are called to spend time with the lepers of our day -- the homeless, the hungry, the grieving, the imprisoned.  And we are commanded to preach the gospel to the ends of the earth, not stopping at the doors of our church buildings, but moving out into the world, demonstrating our love of God and neighbor in tangible ways.

These blogs and my time away have given me an opportunity to focus my thinking.  I have been trying to set up an appointment with Congressman Steve Stivers, my U.S. House representative, to tell him about what I've seen and to invite him to come to Street Church (also in his district) to meet some constituents he hasn't met yet and may not know exist.  He has not responded to my invitation, but he should know that I'll keep trying! 

I've also been forming some ideas about the language we use and want to solidify those thoughts into something that I can share with others.  I'm talking about the way we use labels to describe people, the way we set up outreach committees in our churches as though reaching out to others was simply a program rather than the essence of what we do.  And my pet peeve -- the use of "feeding program" to describe what we do with outreach funds.  We feed pigs and pets. We dine with other people in a way that truly welcomes them into relationship with us.  Language matters.  We communicate meaning through our word choices, meaning deeper than we sometimes intend, meaning that is communicating very loudly to those listening.

But more on that at some other time.  It has been a pleasure to share my reflections with you.  I hope that something I have said has given you a fresh perspective or stimulated your imagination in some small way.  Thanks for taking this part of the trip with me.  Let's continue the journey together.

Meet Us at the Park and Ride

Church can happen anywhere.  In the small rural community of Guerneville, California, it happens at the Park and Ride every Sunday at 1:00.  It’s the second worship service of the day for the Rev. Pam Tinnin and a few others from the Guerneville Community Church – UCC.

We arrived early enough to see the empty parking lot begin to fill up with people in cars, on bikes, and on foot.  It was clear that just about everyone knew each other, a benefit of small town life.  A canopy was set up and chairs were brought from a nearby restaurant.  Their rock musician, Michael Adams, was not present on Sunday, so the group sang some of his original compositions with only a tambourine to help keep the rhythm. 

The scripture reading was one of the feeding of the multitude stories.  The comparisons to what happens at every street church service were readily drawn – always enough for everyone, always.  Christ’s model of ministry acted out with simplicity.  Hear the Word then break bread together. There is no need to send anyone away.  Just be where two or three others gather and share.

The lesson from Guerneville is that Street Church is not an urban ministry model.  The town has 2,200 people.  But some of those people do not feel that they can attend traditional church services.   So they come to an open space where others gather to worship, because they share the desire to worship and be in fellowship with other people of faith.  They are hungry in body and spirit and know that they will be fed, just like those thousands were fed by Jesus.

One of Michael’s songs expresses the need to worship and give thanks:

                I want to take this time to thank you God, for giving me my life.

                I want to take this time to thank you God, for giving me my life.
              Thank you God, Thank you God, for giving me my life.

              I want to take this time to ask you God, to teach me how to love……

             I want to take this time to show you God, a willingness to grow……

 To give thanks, to learn to love, and to show a willingness to grow.  Worship is praise and thanksgiving to God.  Wherever we are, with whoever shows up.  That’s Church.

Dancing with the Saints

St. Gregory’s Episcopal Church in San Francisco is known to many throughout the church for two reasons – it’s dancing saints and its food pantry.  Artist Mark Dukes painted both ancient and modern-day saints on the walls above the round sanctuary of St. Gregory’s.  They are joined in a joyous dance.  And every Friday that same sanctuary is transformed into a food pantry serving about 400 people per week.  The saints dance above while people load bags and carts with fresh produce, bread, and staples. Sara Miles has written about the ministry in Take This Bread and Jesus Freak.   John and I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to visit while in San Francisco.

The pantry isn’t so different from other food pantries.  Well, except for the saints who dance above it.   AND the joy with which people serve.   All the volunteers were dressed up for Halloween, adding to the festive mood.  We were warmly welcomed, offered coffee, given hugs, and called by name.  This simple practice is SO important  if people are to feel truly valued and welcomed.  It reminded me once again of why I do what I do, of what a great privilege and joy it is to serve others in the Name of Christ.  The only thing better would be to not have to serve the needs of the poor because there are no more poor among us.  

I’m writing this on All Saints’ Day, my 15^th anniversary as Vicar at St. John’s and a day to remember that we are one with the living and the dead and the ones yet to come.  The Occupy movement is certainly reminding us that we are one with the richest and the poorest and everyone in between.  My three months of travel from one street ministry to another across the nation has sharpened my awareness of the interconnectedness of all of us in our wealth and our poverty (economically and spiritually), and in our response to God’s command to love God and love one another.  I’ve seen love in action everywhere I have visited.  I have seen Christ all across the U.S. in the faces of the homeless and in the faces of those who worship and serve among them.  Let us dance with joy as we praise God in all that we do.

Preach It, Sister!

5:30 on a Thursday afternoon.  Rush hour in San Francisco.   But above the din of buses and cars, seemingly oblivious to the crush of people entering and exiting the BART station, the Revs. Monique Ortiz and Vicki Gray call whoever hears their voices to worship.  In both English and Spanish, people on the streets are welcomed to Open Cathedral in the heart of the Mission district.

Some accept worship bulletins from street ushers.  Others study their own shoes.  Still others, many others, gather on the fringes and listen.  The lesson is from Matthew 23.  First Jesus describes the scribes and Pharisees as ones who tell others to observe the law, but do not practice it themselves, ones who lay heavy burdens on others, but save the places of honor and power for themselves.  Then Jesus pronounces, “He who is greatest among you shall be your servant”, continuing with a long list of woes upon the scribes and Pharisee, the hypocrites, anyone who uses their own power to oppress others.

This was one day after a young man, a veteran, in Oakland, just across the bay from San Francisco, was seriously injured when the police tried to stop people from camping as part of the Occupy movement.  Emotions were running high for the 99% and Jesus’ lesson spoke directly to the frustration and anger of those left behind and living on the margins who had gathered for worship.  Monique, a UCC minister, preached from the depths of her being.  “You are the greatest.  You have the power.  I have seen how you serve one another, care for one another”, she boldly declared into her microphone as she gave various examples of how that congregation of homeless men and women had supported one another.   She communicated the power of her convictions and the power of Christ’s love unashamedly in that public setting.  She could really preach!

Then she moved more placidly into the consecration of a large loaf of bread and a chalice of grape juice.  The attention of the crowd became a bit more focused and when it was time for the Lord’s Prayer about 40 people joined hands and prayed together, ready for that holy meal.  Monique and Vicki moved outside the circle, extending the offer of Christ’s Body and Blood throughout the plaza. 

Open Cathedral San Francisco, holds two worship services each week, one in the Mission district that I visited, and on in the Tenderloin.  The worship is part of San Francisco Night Ministry, a ministry that goes out on the streets from 10 pm until 4 am every night, searching out and serving the needs of people living on the streets.  I am in awe of the courage in must take to do that work, but I saw the connections that Monique and Vicki had with the people in their congregation and beyond.  Christ is very present on the streets of San Francisco.  The power belongs to those who serve. Thanks be to God.

Pass It On

This photo has nothing to do with this blog entry, but it will give you a taste of the beauty we have been seeing along the Oregon coast.

We stopped in McMinnville, OR at the invitation of Ecclesia network friend, Joyce Wolcott.  She and Howie Harkema host Love in Action, a group of providers of services to the homeless in the community.  They come together every week to share information and problem-solve together.  They meet at St. Barnabas Episcopal Church which is also the site of a daily meal to over 2000 people per month.  Their model of collaboration serves their community well.

John and I were able to share our travels to Street Churches all across the country and to open up the possibility of Street Church in McMinnville.  The group does great work as individual organizations and together, but they had never considered (to our knowledge) the idea of worshiping as part of what they do, though most are from religiously affiliated programs.  I hope that we were able to plant some seeds.

The St. Barnabas Soup Kitchen brochure includes a quote from Gandhi -- "There are people in the world so hungry that God cannot appear to them except in the form of bread."  When we share bread, whether at a meal or at the Holy Table, God is very much present.  And when we share ourselves the kingdom is very near.  All people, regardless of circumstance, long for connection and meaning.  Bread, sacramental or with peanut butter and jelly, brings us together and binds our lives with God.

Collaborative, Comprehensive Community

St. Stephen's Episcopal Church in Portland, Oregon is home to a wide ranging number of ministries with people on the margins.  We visited on Saturday morning for St. Stephen's Table, a hot breakfast for whoever comes through the doors.  A man spontaneously sat down and played the piano throughout the morning, a soft jazz improvisation, lending a calmness to the gathering of over 50 guests. 

After breakfast, two nurses and an assistant set up a foot clinic and invited street-weary people to soak their feet, have their nails trimmed, and receive first aid for minor foot ailments.  Each person received a fresh pair of socks and gentle touch.  My thoughts naturally went to the night Jesus washed the feet of his disciples in an act of selfless giving.

On Sunday we met the Rev. John Paul Davis in a park in the center of Portland for Communion in the Park.  He pulled a red wagon behind him full of sandwiches and hard-cooked eggs.  He set up communion on a stone sculpture and nine of us worshipped as people passed by.  A woman brought along her therapy dog to say hello to strangers in a way that reduced the discomfort of meeting people for the first time.  After a brief communion service we took off down the length of the park, handing out sandwiches and eggs.  Crowds of theater goers watched as we demonstrated caring concern for our new friends on the streets.  Maybe they will remember the scene and repeat it themselves at some point.

St. Stephen's is also home to Operation Nightwatch, an independent program that extends hospitality both at the church and on the streets throughout the week.  In addition to food and a place to get inside, they offer movies, Open Mic nights, karaoke, games, Birthday Night, art, and even acupuncture.  They also offer worship.

I was impressed by the extent of support offered to people who are without homes through St. Stephen's Church and by the way that two organizations have collaborated so successfully.  It is not the norm for churches to open their doors every day of the week to the community beyond their membership.  St. Stephen's provides a model for us all.

On another note, the Occupy movement is in full swing in Portland.  Oregonians cherish their right to free speech and the mayor of Portland has allowed Occupy Portland camps in defense of that right.  When the homeless challenged him on that decision while, at the same time, being prevented from camping in Portland themselves, he refused them the right.  A private citizen stepped in and allowed a homeless camp to be set up on his property, just a few blocks from the Occupy Portland site.  The question is: Do free-speech rights take precedence over the right to a place to lay one's head at night?  Think about it.

The Power of Prayer

City Gates Ministries in Olympia, Washington is like none other that we have visited.  At 7:00 each Thursday night, two large vans, one smaller one, and various other vehicles pull onto a parking lot in the middle of the city, just across the street from a major transit center.  Out come tables, canopies, and a sound system.  The Rev. Phil Prietto takes the microphone and for the next hour preaches and invites the testimony of the group. 

The ministry has been growing since 1995.  Their mission -- "to show the love of Jesus Christ by unifying the Church to meet the needs of people in the community".   Their uniqueness is their size and that phrase "unifying the Church".  Approximately 14 congregations, mostly non-denominational and evangelical,  come together, not because they sign up to do specific tasks, but because they are acting as the Church in the world.  They are acting not as separate congregations, but as one Church with the sole purpose of walking with others on whatever journey they happen to be on.

The size of the ministry is impressive.  The trucks and vans are packed full of blankets, clothing, baby supplies, and hygiene items.  A simple meal of sandwiches and coffee or hot chocolate is served to about 150 people.  A photographer takes pictures that are ready the following week for people to take with them.  A woman explained, "Every time you look at the picture, you see Christ looking back at you."  There is a children's area with activities and toys or books for children to take with them.  And there is a massage table to relieve the stress of life on the streets.

And there is PRAYER.  At every opportunity, prayer is offered -- as people wait in line for various items and as people tell their stories to "ministry leaders".  It is clear in written guidelines that prayer is offered, not required, but I didn't see anyone refuse the offer.  The prayers are typically offered by small groups of people surrounding and laying hands on the one being prayed for.  As uptight Episcopalians it was a bit unnerving for John and me to be drawn into so much spontaneous prayer, but it became clear that our discomfort was our problem, not theirs.  The prayers are not isolated from the further offer of other help -- a place to sleep, drug/alcohol treatment options, assistance with social service agencies. And love and support were not contingent on the person's response to offers of help -- spiritual or otherwise.  Pastor Phil was clear that relationships come first and foremost.

As the evening was wrapping up at about 10:00 pm, a young man came up to greet us.  He had his two month old daughter with him.  He shared his story of coming to City Gates for five years arguing that God didn't even exist.  But he kept coming and is now a believer.  He has a home and a job and a family.  He has a community of people, a Church, that he can rely on for continued support and encouragement.  And now he feels that it's his turn to give back as he reaches out to others who share his struggles.

Prayer.  We (I) need to get over our (my) reluctance to pray freely and openly with others and to believe, really believe, in the transformative power of prayer.  The words we use don't really matter.  What matters is that we trust God enough to imagine our lives and the lives of others as whole and holy, renewed and recreated by God.

They Just Keep Coming

It was a gorgeous fall day, mid-afternoon on a football Sunday in Nashville  (home of the Tennessee Titans).  Church in the Yard, a ministry of Holy Trinity Episcopal Church in Nashville, worships at 2:00 in the yard adjacent to the church.  It's a very traditional service, straight out of the Book of Common Prayer.  About 50 people, primarily men, gathered for Eucharist.  Members of a coffee-house church brought lunch for 200 and the food was gone in 1/2 an hour.

It amazed me to see the number of men lining up for hot dogs and chips.  They came from a shelter just a couple of blocks away for food and fellowship.  One of the lunch servers commented, "They just keep coming".  They just keep coming.  The number of people living on the streets of America is staggering.  The injustice of homelessness is heart breaking.  Lack of adequate housing, too few treatment facilities, lack of support of veterans damaged by war, only a few jobs, and no jobs for people who have no place to bathe or store their belongings.  How can we allow how brothers and sisters to live in these dehumanizing conditions?  When will we, as Christians, rise up and shout "Enough!"?

We've all been hearing the news about the Occupy Wall Street movement.  Perhaps some of us are participating.  While the movement needs to find its focus, I am hopeful that "the 99%" will begin to open the eyes of the "1%" to the fact that we are all intimately interwined, part of one family.  The country, the world, cannot continue to widen the gap between the very rich and the very poor without dire consequences for all. 

A major biblical theme is that of justice for the poor in light of the extreme privilege of the wealthy and powerful.  Where is our compassion?  Where is our faith?  In Matthew 23:23-24, Jesus admonishes, "Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites!  For you tithe mint, dill, and cummin, and have neglected the weightier matters of the law: justice and mercy and faith.  It is these you ought to have practiced without neglecting the others.  You blind guides!  Your strain out a gnat but swallow a camel!"

We are the scribes and Pharisees as long as we can allow the long lines to continue to form week after week after week.  Or we can follow Jesus.  We can speak up.  We can shout, "Enough!".  We can demand that our public policies work toward building God's reign on earth through support for adequate housing for all, for increased access to high quality alcohol, drug, and mental health treatment programs, for guaranteed food for everyone, and for excelllent educational opportunities for all.  All that will mean that we may have to give up something, for we may not be in the top 1%, but most of us are near the top 10%.

Does Christ have a firm enough grip on our lives to move us to action?

Backpack Justice

"Woe to him who builds his house by unrighteousness, and his upper rooms by injustice; who makes his neighbors work for nothing, and does not give them their wages" (Jeremiah 22:13). 

The Church of the Common Ground meets every Wednesday in Woodruff Park in downtown Atlanta.  The day was beautiful, the park full of business people and people with no place else to go.  The noise around us was cacophonous -- cars honking, sirens screaming, fountains gushing, people talking, music playing.  But that did not deter our group from serious consideration of Jeremiah's words.  Mitsy knows what it's like to be labeled as homeless, and therefore not get paid a full day's pay for a full day's work.  "Yeah," she said, "they see someone with a backpack and they figure they can get something for nothing."  Backpack justice.  Others shared stories of injustices done to them, sounding at times resigned to their fate and at times determined to break the cycle. 

Into the midst of the conversation walked Teresa.  Applause broke out as she approached.  She just passed an exam that will allow her to become a nursing assistant, a dream she has had "forever".  There is hope.

Eucharist followed Bible Study, along with laying on of hands and anointing for healing.  Teresa joined Deacon Carol in praying with the one being anointed as the rest of the group remained in silent prayer.  There is always hope.

I've been reading the book  The Dangerous Act of Loving Your Neighbor: Seeing Others Through the Eyes of Jesus by Mark Labberton.  He takes his readers on a spiral through Seeing, Naming, and Acting as a way toward transformation and justice.  Good stuff for a Lenten study.  His chapters on "naming" especially touched me.  He talks about how the names we use to describe others shape their lives, and our own.  "Names are first and foremost expressions of relationship (p. 128)," he says. Generalizations we use (i.e., the homeless, the poor, the hungry) objectifiy and distance "us" from "them".  Labberton goes on to say, "Justice renames the forgotten as the remembered, the widow as the loved and the oppressed as the treasured" (p. 155).   When "the homeless" become Teresa and Mitsy and Lamar and Walter our relationships are transformed.  We become friends.  We begin to care on a very personal level about the injustices that shape their lives.  "Outreach" is renamed as simply what we do every day.  "Homeless ministry" is transformed into relationship building within our communities of faith.  "Programs" are transformed into acts of worship.  "Us" and "them" are renamed brother and sister in Christ and "that homeless man" becomes my friend, cherished by me and cherished by Christ.

The Jeremiah passage we studied on Wednesday concludes, "He [the former king] judged the cause of the poor and needy: then it was well.  Is not this to know me? says the Lord" (Jer. 22:16).  How will we come to know God?

Collective Wisdom, Shared Struggles

Ecclesia Ministry leaders from all over the US and a very special bishop from Rio de Janeiro gathered at beautiful, peaceful Lake Logan in North Carolina for retreat, sharing, learning, and prayer.  I want to share some of the wisdom and the struggles from that gathering.

We who are engaged in ministry with people living on the streets share many of the same struggles.  It is hard, painful work at times and nothing can adequately prepare us for the heartbreak and (sometimes) danger that we encounter.  We struggle to remain faithful to God's command that we show mercy without judgment.  We struggle to balance the needs of others with our own needs and the needs of our loved ones.  We struggle to identify and maintain resources for our ministries.  And we struggle to meet the needs of our volunteers who minister along with us.

But the struggles are minor when compared to the joy of serving God among the forgotten, oppressed, discarded children of God.  Those of us who have been doing street ministry for a while took some time to consider the word "mercy".   The word actually means "non-abandonment".  God promised never to abandon us and we, in turn, are called never to abandon God or God's people.  When we show mercy, we say to the other person, through words and actions, that God will never abandon him/her and neither will we.  Our sole objective in street ministry is to communicate God's mercy.  Isn't that, in fact, our sole objective as Christians?  All of our works of compassion in meeting the material needs of others, all of our efforts to bring justice to the poor and oppressed, all of our prayer and worship, are directed at being instruments of God's mercy in the world.

Mercy is, of course, closely tied to forgiveness.  We were introduced to a book called Jesus, A Historical Approximation by Jose Pagola.  In the book he writes "Jesus sits at the table with sinners, not as a severe judge but as a reassuring friend.  Grace comes before judgment in God's reign....The surprise is that Jesus accepts sinners without first requiring repentance as it is traditionally understood....He accepts them as they are, sinners, trusting totally in God's mercy which is seeking them out.  So Jesus was accused of being a friend of people who are still sinners.   That was intolerable.....He offers forgiveness without first requiring change (italics added)."  This quote made me think of the group of people who have been picketing St. John's Street Church.  Their signs read, "Repent" and "Jesus Saves".   They expect repentance and change before offering God's love and forgiveness and ridicule us for loving first.  Loving first is what sets Ecclesia ministries apart from what we traditionally think of as street preaching.  And it is also one of our challenges as we approach potential funders.  Funders, be they foundations, other churches, or individuals, ask what impact we make on people's lives, how many people we have gotten into permanent housing, or how many have overcome their addictions as a result of our ministries.

Those are the wrong questions.   The questions we are asking ourselves as we go into the streets are: Have we loved well?  Have we accepted the friends we meet as our sisters and brothers in Christ, without placing conditions on that friendship?  Have we offered God's forgiveness without first requiring change?  When those with resources can hear these as the essential questions, our ministries will flourish and they will understand that lives are changed.  The reign of God will come.

In closing I want to share a prayer that the Eccelsia community in Wooster, MA uses in their worship.  The prayer is attributed to Archbishop Oscar Romero: 


It helps, now and then, to step back and take a long view. The kingdom is not only beyond our efforts, it is even beyond our vision.
We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction of the magnificent enterprise that is God’s work.
Nothing we do is complete, which is a way of saying that the Kingdom always lies beyond us.
No statement says all that could be said.
No prayer fully expresses our faith.
No confession brings perfection.
No pastoral visit brings wholeness.
No program accomplishes the Church’s mission.
No set of goals and objectives includes everything.
This is what we are about.
We plant the seeds that one day will grow.
We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise.
We lay foundations that will need further development.
We provide yeast that produces far beyond our capabilities.
We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that.
This enables us to do something, and to do it very well.
It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way, an opportunity for the Lord’s grace to enter and do the rest.
We may never see the end results, but that is the difference between the master builder and the worker.
 We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs.
 We are prophets of a future not our own.

In the Shadow of the White House

Every Tuesday a group of dedicated volunteers gathers in the kitchen of the Episcopal Church of the Epiphany to make sandwiches, delegate tasks, and pray before they push three shopping carts several blocks to Franklin Square Park.  The park is just two blocks from the White House and a popular spot for the homeless to rest.

It was almost impossible to hear the priest, Susan, over the fountain in the background and other street noise, but that didn't stop about 40 people from joining the group to listen, to pray, and to break bread together.  I was impressed by how actively welcoming the more experienced members of Street Church were as they stayed alert to people coming up to the group, speaking to them and handing them a sheet with the liturgy and songs printed on it.  It was clear that there are no strangers at Street Church.

What does it say about us as a nation that so many people are without homes so very close to the seat of our government, that some of the most privileged individuals in America walk past the most in need without as much as a nod of recognition?   What has happened to our sense of justice and compassion, if it really ever existed beyond rhetoric? 

Those of us involved in ministry to the homeless, the addicted, the mentally ill, the veterans who are still at war within themselves, constantly struggle with how to be in relationship with our friends on the street and, at the same time, work for justice on a broader scale.  The reality is that we cannot do it all, that we must rely on and trust others to do some of the work.  But a larger reality dictates that we who know the homeless as our friends must work to bring about justice for and with them.  We know the stories and it is our responsibility to tell them to those in positions of power and influence.  When is the last time any of us wrote a letter to our senators or representatives at the state and national levels sharing the stories of the people we meet every week or every day on the street?  When is the last time we asked a government leader to accompany us to our street ministry, to break bread with us and meet the very poor one-on-one?  Jesus became so angry at the hypocrisy of the temple system of his day that he overturned the money-changers' tables.  Perhaps it is time for us to do the modern-day equivalent and challenge the actions of politicians and citizens who have turned their backs on the most vulnerable among us.

The Liturgy of the Broken Bread

"Welcome, Bienvenidos.  It is a good night to be together.  We are a community of equals, a community of faith, and a community of fellowship.  So, as disciples on the road to Emmaus did so long ago with Jesus, we too invite you to 'stay with us because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over.'"  Thus begins Common Cathedral's Liturgy of the Broken Bread in Collyer Park, Longmont, Colorado at 6 PM each Friday night.

People gather from the streets of Longmont, from Ft. Collins, and from Boulder to share two meals--the Holy Meal of Christ's Body and a Holy Meal prepared by volunteers or donated by restaurants.  Deacon Marc Genty has led the gathering for 3-1/2 years, but has worked among the homeless for much longer, finding housing and identifying needed resources.  Polly and others lead the group in song from an extensive songbook the group has developed.

I was impressed by the liturgy.  It was written in simple language accessible to everyone present, shortened to accommodate the outdoor space, yet including all the elements of a more traditional service.  The sermon is interactive.  The story of the rich man whose debt was forgiven by the king, but who, in turn, did not forgive the much smaller debt of his servant (Matt. 18:21-35), elicited stories of forgiveness asked, forgiveness given, and forgiveness denied.  How often should we forgive?  As many times as it takes, Jesus said.  Difficult words for the man whose family member was murdered or the father whose children have been taken away.  Difficult words for all of us. Yet words we must hear.  Marc had the sensitivity to listen, allow the question to hang in the air, and let the Spirit do her work.

One of the things we teach in our lay preaching class (taught by the Rev. Stephen Smith and me in the Diocese of Southern Ohio) is that the task of the preacher is to open the scriptures, but not try to provide answers that are not there.  To issue the challenge, but not to shove listeners into corners from which they can't escape.  To join the congregation in the struggle of Jesus' words, but never, ever to assume a superior stance.  In the lesson from Matthew we are exhorted to forgive 70 X 7 times, but we are not told how to go about the task.  That is for us to figure out for ourselves in the fellowship of other Christians.  Participatory sermons and personal storytelling have a place among more traditional styles and I am always blessed to hear the wisdom of those with whom I worship and serve, from the most highly educated to the most battered by life -- maybe especially from the battered and bruised.

Deacons at Work in Denver

I've had a very full couple of days in Denver shadowing some dedicated deacons as they work with homeless ministries supported by the Episcopal Church here.  On Tuesday evening I visited St. Clare's Ministry at the parish of St. Peter and St. Mary in Denver, a program very similar to His Place at St. John's.   The evening opened with Eucharist in the church, followed by a dinner for about 100 in the parish hall.  After dinner, the clothing and "stuff" closet opened where I helped new friends find jeans and other clothing for the cool night to come.  Started in 1983, the ministry has continued to evolve thanks, in large part, to the efforts of three deacons, Melanie Christopher, Becky Jones, and Cammy Haupt, who take their call to serve Christ in the world very seriously.  They are each assigned to a parish, but serve the larger community at St. Clare's and elsewhere.  I also met Darrell, pictured here in his role as crucifer.  Earlier in the day he was cutting the lawn of the church and welcoming guests.  But only a few years ago Darrell was living in a box under a bridge.  St. Clare's Ministry walked with Darrell as his circumstances stabilized and he moved into permanent housing.  Now he is an important leader in the community.

Wednesday I accompanied Deacon Becky Jones to the 32nd Avenue Jubilee Center, a multi-service resource center for families housed in an Episcopal parish house, and to the St. Francis Center, a day shelter for the homeless which also has permanent, supportive housing units and a full range of resources for guests at the center.  Becky and a visiting priest offer Eucharist every Sunday at 8 AM at St. Francis Center.  At both programs I was greeted by yet more deacons, "retired" yet still actively serving.

In the afternoon, I joined Reuben to walk along the 16th Street Mall in Denver.  We talked to people who appeared to be spending a lot of time on the streets. Reuben talked to friends and met some new folks as he offered referrals and assistance.  Up to 100 people sleep on benches and over sidewalk grates along the mall each night.  I especially enjoyed talking to Reuben (an OSU graduate!) who has been doing street outreach for six years.  He got his start when he lived in an intentional Christian community in Camden, NJ started by Shane Claiborne, author of The Irresistible Revolution: Living as an Ordinary Radical and other books.  I talked enthusiastically about the young people moving into Franklinton and their work there.  We hope that Reuben will visit us in Columbus in 2012.

Now, back to the extraordinary visibility of deacons in Denver.  What impressed me is how seriously the deacons I met take their call to "take the church to the world and bring the world to the church".  They combine their liturgical responsibilities in a congregation with active work in the community that requires a significant commitment of time.  This may be due, in part, to the level of commitment the diocese has to Episcopal Jubilee Ministries.  The Diocese of Colorado has 23 Jubilee Ministries, so designated by the Episcopal Church because of their efforts to eliminate poverty and advocate for the vulnerable.  Deacon Becky Jones is the Jubilee officer for the diocese and works to keep the various ministries actively engaged with one another and with all the parishes in the diocese.

The emphasis on Jublilee Ministries may also be transforming churches with a long and rich history in Denver that are now struggling to survive be re-imagined into vibrant ministries that serve the poor and marginalized.  Sunday morning may see few people at worship, but ministries throughout the week demonstrate Christ's love and compassion.   The question is, of course, how to financially support these churches.  But that's the reason we all pay mission shares to the diocese, isn't it????

Wherever Two or Three are Gathered

Janet walks the streets of a run-down neighborhood of Cincinnati every Sunday after worshipping at Church of Our Savior.  Why?  Because she's been there.  Sunday was her 13th anniversary of being clean and sober.  Her journey has been a long one and she understands what people who still live on the streets are experiencing.  Accompanied by the Rev. Paula Jackson, Janet greeted people warmly and gave out sandwiches as Mother Paula handed out Sunday's scripture readings and a reflection by the Presiding Bishop about 9/11, and offered to pray in small groups.  "What are you thankful for today?" she would ask.  "Anything you want to pray about?"  A group of teenagers trying to look tough accepted the offer, as did several others.

I posed the question, "What makes this church?"  Without hesitation, Mother Paula responded, "Did you hear what the man said when we pulled up? 'Here's church'.  We gather, we pray, we share a meal -- that's church."

Our Savior Street Church has been active since 1998, helping define the parish as a community that is not satisfied with sitting in one place, waiting for people to come through the doors. They have moved around the city, searching out the homeless and marginalized, taking Christ's love to the streets.  Unlike many street ministries, they don't pressure anyone to pray.  They give out sandwiches first, then they ask about prayers, respecting the answer they receive.  One of the teenagers we met didn't want to pray at first, but when his friends said "OK" he joined in.  Afterwards he said, "Whoa, that prayer got to me.  Give me one of those" (referring to the scripture readings and reflection).  Is walking the streets with sandwiches and the offer of prayer church?  We need to remember Jesus' words, "Whenever two or three are gathered in my Name, I am in the midst of them"

Responding to God's Call

St. Andrew's Episcopal Church sits along a tree-lined avenue in the upscale community of Longmeadow, MA, just outside of Springfield.  Four years ago the people of St. Andrew's launched a capital campaign to do needed updating to their building AND to take worship to the streets of Springfield.  They were able to hire a full-time priest to get the ministry off the ground, but now he has moved on and the ministry is led by a Core Team of lay people with support from other members of the congregation.  Clergy from around the deanery celebrate the Eucharist on a rotating basis.

What is significant about this ministry is that it was centered on worship from the very beginning.  In fact, lunch did not become part of the ministry until another lunch program was no longer available. The focus is not on feeding people or giving out "stuff", or on fixing anyone's problems.  Some of those things happen, but the primary focus in on worship, on being part of a community of faith very different from the Longmeadow community and much more like the kingdom community. 

Each Sunday the group gathers across the street from City Hall, opening with a time of fellowship and a small snack.  Wally plays his guitar, accompanied by a man on his harmonica and the voices of all assembled, as the community gathers around the Table.  A member of the congregation volunteers to read the Gospel, several others comment on the lesson, still others offer prayers.  Healing prayers are offered by laypeople.  After worship a simple meal of sandwiches and chips is distributed and folks visit with one another.

Most mainline congregations are more comfortable giving out of their bounty to the needs of others -- food, used clothing, toiletry items, money.  That feels like we're helping someone who needs our help.  It makes the giver feel good and it's safe.  And it feels like we're helping to fix things for others.  If we can find housing for the homeless, teach job skills to the unemployed, lead alcoholics and drug addicts to treatment, or at least provide a meal to a hungry neighbor, then we have done something worthwhile.

But we tend to become very uncomfortable when it comes to sharing our faith with others and building lasting relationships with people different from ourselves.  We certainly don't want to become like the stereotypical street preachers who holler "Repent!" and threaten everlasting damnation. But at a much more fundamental level, I think we are afraid that if we share our faith openly with others, we may have to admit that we are as vulnerable spiritually, maybe even more so, than people who are so visibly broken as the homeless, the mentally ill, and the very, very poor.  What if our faith doesn't have answers for the injustice of our relative wealth in the face of abject poverty?  What if our prayers for healing aren't answered?  What if our presence doesn't fix anyone's problems?  And what if it is our own spiritual lives that need the healing as much as those to whom we are ministering?

Whenever I get caught up in this kind of thinking (which is frequently) I remember the ones that Jesus chose as disciples.  They were not chosen because of their great faith.  They were not chosen because of their great wisdom.  They were chosen because of their hope, because of their openness to new possibilities, and because of their doubts.  We don't promise eternal damnation because we're not sure the sins of those being called to repent by street preachers are any greater than our own.  If fact, we're pretty sure that they're not.  And we want to communicate the LOVE of God, not God's wrath.

And that's what we do when we go to the streets with worship.  We stand in solidarity and community with others who, just like ourselves, need to hear the message of God's love, God's forgiveness, and God's never-failing presence with us, no matter what.  And the way we hear that message is to proclaim it through Word and Sacrament, through Eucharist and sandwiches, through song and conversation.

The people of St. Andrew's are examples for other suburban congregations who are ready to risk reaching out beyond their comfort zones to be in community with others.  Contact them at www.st-andrews-longmeadow.org.

What is Church?

Our last visit was to Grace Street Ministry in Portland, Maine.  Mair Honan and Elizabeth Peterson have a four day per week ministry to the homeless in Portland, making stops at three different day shelters and two night-time shelters.  On Sundays they conduct a prayer and communion service and on other days they link people to needed resources and lead spirituality groups.  At other times Mair and Elizabeth are preaching and teaching at area churches, raising funds for their continued ministry.  When I asked Mair about her ministry she said, "We're not like other Ecclesia ministries.  We don't have a place.  We don't have a church."

I challenge her (and anyone reading this) on that.  Grace Street Ministry may not have a place, but it IS the church on the streets of Portland.  The day we walked with Mair, a young woman called out, "Pastor Mair, will you baptize my baby?"  She introduced us to her infant son and talked with Mair about her desire to have her son baptized before she leaves to do some jail time.  She also wants her new home blessed.  She has known Mair for some time now and shared the ups and downs of life on the streets.  Now she is determined to raise her son well.  Grace Street Ministry will be there to support this young woman.

THAT"S CHURCH.  Mair said it best.   "We just walk in the footsteps of Jesus."  EXACTLY.  Jesus didn't "have" a church.  Jesus walked around, met people along the way, preached, prayed, taught, and healed.  He didn't have a building or committees, and certainly no hierarchy.  He just walked around and brought the kingdom of God close, very close, to the people.

Being on the streets, bringing the church to people instead of waiting for people to come to the church, has taught me and lots of others that it is time to re-imagine church.  And by re-imagine, I don't mean changing the words we use in liturgy or using contemporary music, though both of those changes are important and necessary additions to what we have now.  No. I mean that we must imagine an everywhere, all the time church.  Church-to-go, if you will.  Church that goes with us whereever we go.  Church that doesn't stop at the door of a building, but begins there.  Church that walks in the footsteps of Jesus.  Church that is so accessible that a person can call out to us from across a city park, "I want my child baptized" and it happens.

How many times have you heard someone say that they experience God in nature?  We certainly did this week as we explored Acadia National Park and the north woods of Maine.  Perhaps if you aren't ready to take church to the streets and among the homeless, you are more ready to take the church to a beautiful suburban park or to a campground by a lake.  The point is, church is where people are.  It's as simple as that.

Waiting for Irene

Non-stop TV reports told us to prepare for the storm of the century.  Hurricane Irene was coming to New England, headed straight through the center of Connecticut making landfall sometime after dark on Saturday.  We planned to visit street churches in Hartford on Saturday and in New Haven on Sunday.  The governor had called for pretty much everything in the state to shut down on Sunday, cancelling our plans for New Haven.

But we got to Hartford for their 2 PM service.  We found Bushnell Park in the shadow of the Connecticut Statehouse and saw a man carrying a box of sandwiches to a vacant building across from the park with a large overhang that protected us from a driving rain. The mood was tense with anticipation of what the storm might mean for those living on the streets, as well as for those who would not have their usual Sunday meal.  Amy Malick and the Rev. Don Richey greeted us.  Amy was on the phone trying to find shelters that would be open during the hurricane and Don introduced us to congregation members as he checked in with them.  I was impressed that he knew so many folks by name after only 6 weeks of worshiping with them.  I was also moved by the offering of anointing for healing by Linda, the priest on Saturday -- an intimate prayer for healing, the touch of her hands, the sign of the cross traced in oil on the forehead.  A calming presence in the face of the uncertainty of the coming storm -- like Jesus' calming words as he approached the disciples on the sea, "Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid".  Thankfully, the storm did not hit us as hard as predicted.  Tree limbs down, electricity off, flooding.  An inconvenience for most, but I keep thinking about those with no homes, no shelter from the rain and wind, no one to check on their well-being.  Thank God for people like Amy and Don and Linda and all the others at On the Pond in Hartford.

On This Rock

On Sunday, August 21 we worshiped in Marcus Garvey Park in Harlem with about 9 others.  The gospel reading was Matt. 16:13-20 -- Peter's declaration that Jesus was the Messiah and Jesus' proclamation that Peter was the rock upon which the church would be built.  The park we were in has a very large rock formation at its center, a fitting location for the reading of this lesson.  The Rev. Lincoln Miller told those gathered that WE are the rock upon which the church is built, ALL of us.  He assured us that we have the strength, just as Peter did, to be the church, to be the face of Christ in the world.  Later the Rev. Miller and I prayed with a man who was very unstable on his feet from drinking.  Tears rolled down his face as we prayed for freedom from that which prevents each of us from fully accepting God's love and forgiveness and we asked for strength for our journeys.

On Monday and Tuesday we visited two Episcopal Service Corps sites, one in West Harlem and the other on the Upper East Side.  These are programs in which young people take a year to live among the poor, work in social service agencies, discern where God is leading them, and live together in community.  St. John's is well positioned to be an ESC site and plans are progressing for this to happen in the next year or so.  John and I gathered lots of valuable information and insights into the program.  Many thanks to Sarah Nazimova-Baum at the New York Intern Program and to the Rev. R.C. Laird at the Rhinelander Volunteers Project for their hospitality and wisdom.

It wasn't all work, though.  We had a great visit with the Rev. Steven Paulikas who was sponsored for ordination by St. John's.  He is the new Rector of All Saints' Episcopal Church in the Park Slope neighborhood of Brooklyn.  His joy in serving this primarily West Indian congregation and his gifts as a priest and preacher made us so proud.  We also had a super evening with Jamie Roberts, daughter of our Senoir Warden, Gay Roberts.  Jamie is a fashion designer in NY, but was able to find time to join us for a huge and delicious meal at Carmines right off of Times Square.

Scheduling Compassion?

We haven't left town yet, but I saw the sign in this picture today and just have to comment on it.  It is proudly displayed on the lawn of a mainline church not far from my home.  I am certain that the event is being planned by well-meaning people who think they understand Jesus' command to serve others.  And I am certain that those who participate believe that they will be doing just what Jesus commanded.

But seriously?  "Compassion Weekend". Really? We can schedule compassion for a particular weekend or day? Our readings from Matthew this summer share the common theme of the disciples wanting to send the people away because of their own needs for rest or time with Jesus for themselves. And every time Jesus calls the people to him, blesses them, heals them, gives them what they need. We can be no different.

And what about the tagline? "No Worship Sunday -- Out Serving". There can be no Christ-centered service in the absence of worship. All that we do as Christians must be grounded in prayer and worship. The Body of Christ must come together for formation, discernment, and action, always keeping God at the very center of our activity.  We go out from worship to serve; we don't replace one with the other.

Our Street Church and other ministries are often the recipients of these efforts to engage middle-class, privileged church-folk in ministry among the poor.  We appreciate the extra hands and, at times, build lasting relationships.  I do not object to "project compassion" if participants understand fully that they are the ones beings served more than the poor.  They are learning something about the realities of poverty and meeting people they might not meet otherwise.  It's a good beginning point, but it not enough.  What they are not doing is affecting any long-term change in people's lives.  That takes long-term commitment.  It demands political advocacy that will bring about changes in economic and social systems.  Real change, real compassion, cannot be a once-in-a-while event planned on a schedule that is convenient to those who are reaching out.  Poverty, hunger, homelessness, and despair know no schedule.

I will be praying on Sunday that the people participating in "Compassion Weekend" will have their hearts and eyes opened to the reality of suffering in our midst and that they will make compassion a way of life rather than one more scheduled event.  And I will pray that I, that all of us, remember the same thing.

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Welcome

In just a few days, I will embark on a journey across the US, visiting Street Churches that are part of the Ecclesia network.  My first trip will be to the Northeast where I will visit street ministires in New York, Connecticut, and Massachusetts.  In each of these locations, mainline churches are taking Christ to the streets, to people who feel abandoned and rejected by inside churches and who often are living on the streets themselves.

Join me in my travels over the next 3 months.   Experience the Church outside and share in my reflections.