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.
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