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.