Church on Logan

Today we had our outdoor monthly service at Logan Square.

I have begun to think of these services as "Church on Logan" because that's exactly who we are--the people of God gathering at Logan Square, sometimes also called Logan Circle. Ironically, we set up our altar on the triangle called the "Sister Cities."

Street church is energizing. And I'm not the only one who thinks so. Today we had at least four (known) clergy present presiding at communion, coffee, cookies and conversation. But clergy are only a small part of Church on Logan. Sami led us in the 23rd psalm, the Confirmation class from Holy Apostle's Episcopal Church helped with communion, Carl offerd prayer, folks from St. John's in Essington brought home baked treats, Dr.Joe came through toting some kind of gift basket for the group, and a woman, whose words I couldn't understand but who was happy to be there, helped with the sermon.

With street church there are no "people in the pews" because we don't have any pews.

We gather in a circle and stand together. It is s a picture of being one.

Our altar is a card table covered with a beautiful cloth given to me by a dear friend. We have a cup, a plate, a small pitcher, grape juice and wafers. Usually we have a small cross on the table, but today Dennis forgot the cross. It didn't really matter because behind us was the huge Basilica of Saints Peter and Paul with it's high cross shadowing over us. Since the cross on this Roman Catholic Cathedral was about the same Jesus who died for us all, I figured no one would mind if we shared it for an hour.

Today we opened the service with "Kumbayah," a camp-y, almost cliche kind of a song except for when we thought about what it really meant...we were inviting God to "Come by here."

Someone needs you, Lord...come by here.

Someone's crying, Lord...come by here.

Someone's hungry...

lonely...

afraid...

you name it, Lord...come by here.

And then, when we were pretty convinced that we had lured Jesus away from the Winter Olympics and into the park, we had time for confession and reconciliation, closing with the healing words of The Serenity Prayer. Not just for recovering alcoholics, but for recovering sinners (as are we all) and saints (as are we all) too.

Sami led us in Psalm 23 and I read the gospel for this Sunady in Lent. The one where Jesus tells us that God loves us like a mother, only wanting to protect us the way a hen covers her brood. Even if it will cost him his life.

And once again, we were given the chance to share in the Bread of Life, the Cup of Salvation.

Afterwards one person came up to me and said, "You know, I feel really full."

This, from someone who did not know where their next meal would come from. But from someone who did have a different kind of hunger.

Tonight I thought about his words as I sat down to dinner, and I realized that I, too, felt like I had already eaten.

And, indeed, I had been fed.

Pennies on the Altar

If I were ever to write a book about The Welcome Church, I would have to call it "Pennies on the Altar." I get this name from the very first "Tuesday Church" service I did over a year ago now.

On that day, I shared how I always seem to find pennies in the most unusual places. In the past, I would ignore those pennies because they were worth,well, only a penny. This changed, however, when someone pointed out to me the words written on the penny, "In God We Trust." Finding pennies then became a reminder for me to trust God.

The odd thing was that I would find the pennies just when I needed to hear that message. Like on the seat of a plane, before taking off (I hate to fly), or on the way to a meeting where I would learn whether or not I was going to have funding for my ministry. On one particularly shaky day, I found six pennies lined up on the street as if God were trying to make sure I really got the message!

So on the day of my first service with Tuesday Church, I invited each person to look for pennies in the upcoming week and let it be a reminder to them of God's presence in all places.

The following week, I asked if anyone wanted to share their "penny stories."

As each person told of the places they found pennies (and the presence of God) they came up and placed their pennies on our altar. This went on for several weeks, until finally, I had to place a jar on the altar to hold all our pennies. One person even shared how she started leaving pennies on the street for others who needed to find them!

The ministry of The Welcome Church is a tricky one because unlike most other developing congregations, our parishioners will not be able to financially sustain the ministry. We depend on donations, grants, and miracles to keep us going. But one thing is not tricky, and that's the message of God's love and grace that is being proclaimed to one another. The message of the gospel found on a penny. Good news popping up, even on the street and in places that most of us would not even touch.

And each week that heavy jar of pennies make my own heart grow light.

Tea Time

There is a ritual at The Welcome Center that began quite by accident.

One afternoon, in the early months of The Welcome Center, I brought out my little plastic hotpot that my husband gave me so that I might have tea at my desk. I filled it with water, plugged it in and sat down at one of the round tables where people folks had gathered, but not saying much. Though we have pots of hot water run through our coffee maker, I am one of those people who likes my tea water to be McDonald's boiling hot and not tasting like coffee.
I also brought out what our guests began to refer to as my "special tea" (peppermint) from home.

I didn't think much about this other than I was going to have my afternoon tea as I talked with some of our guests. It wasn't long, though, before people started asking if they could have some of that "special tea" made with water from my "special pot." Soon, 3:00 became known as "Tea Time with the Pastor"---a time to gather around one of the tables, choose from a variety of herbal teas (now with two special pots), share a tea-time treat, and have conversation.

I love tea-time at The Welcome Center, and on Tuesdays I move right from our Welcome Church service in the large room next door into The Welcome Center room where folks are gathered and waiting for me to join them for tea.

I love tea-time for many reasons, but mostly because it is such a normalizing and social activity.

Still, our conversations vary a bit in context from most Wanamaker Crystal Tea Room kind of talk.

Today, one person shared how he had been arrested twice this past week for loitering. Someone else jumped in to to share the frustration of shelters and cafes being too full to accommodate people during this cold and rainy weather but getting kicked out of the train stations with no other inside place to go. Another very resourceful person said that if you buy a train ticket a little after the last train, then you could stay in the station until the first train in the morning, allowing five "legal" hours inside. And someone else shared how when he was arrested for loitering, the police took away the crochet hook I had given him for the small animals he crochets because it was a "weapon."

I shared my dream of opening a drop-in center in one of the vacant shops at Suburban Station.

One guy said, "You really are crazy...they don't want us there." But someone else shared how if we did this, she thought we could get many volunteers to paint, decorate and maintain such a facility. So then someone else talked about the need for more affordable housing. And another talked about jobs and maybe a business we could start together so that they could pay for the housing...and the conversation became filled with ideas and dreams and I dare say...hope.

All this, as we sipped a very expensive brand of white tea that had been donated, and shared another misspelled birthday cake that cut to look like a fancy tea-time treat.

OK. So we're not the Crystal Tea Room. And we don't have a chandelier. But we are The Welcome Center and these folks are the heartbeat of The Welcome Church and for that special 3:00 hour on Tuesdays and Fridays, we do have a roof overhead in a lovely Center City space.

So, maybe it wasn't such an accident that prompted me to drag my little hot pot out of my office and into the large room that day after all.

Oh, yeah. We found another crochet hook for our friend to keep on crocheting his little dogs.

Jesus on the Main Line, Tell Him What you Want...

There's an old gospel song called "Jesus on the Main Line." In this song, the main line refers to a telephone line and not the upper class old money section of Philadelpia which is also called "The Main Line." Anyway, I thought of this song, when in the middle of our Tuesday Church service, someone's cell phone rang.

In most situations, I would be very annoyed if I heard a cell phone ring during a service. For the folks at The Welcome Church, however, a phone call could mean a house, a job, a lost relative, a doctor, a probation officer, or a slot in a rehab. And the phones are not easy to come by, even with SafeLink, a government program designed to provide limited coverage cell phones for low income people. So I am a bit more liberal about a phone ringing during Tuesday Church than I would be in most ther situations.

OK. We had just finished praying and the phone rang. The person answered it and respectfully stepped back to finish his conversation. He then came back to the group as I raised the bread to be blessed and he said, "I have an announcement." Because he was visibly upset, I put the words of Jesus on hold for a minute and let him speak.

His fiancee had been arrested.

The charges were old and it had something to do with reporting to her P.O., but my parishioner was struggling to remain calm.

One by one, the congregants began to comfort and encourage him, even sharing their own experiences and some pretty sophisticated legal advice. Someone looked at me and said, can we pray again?

So, there we were, a little out of order, but asking God to protect them and keep them safe, the community surrounding my parishioner with love and prayer.

I then went back to where I was before the call, raised the bread in my hands and said the words of Institution..."This is my body given for you..."

When my very worried parishioner took that bread and sipped that juice, I could see that he was eating the bread and drinking the juice in a way that he knew he would be strenghtened.

Afterwards, we made a plan for the next few days and I saw the calmness envelop him even in his worry.

Maybe, I thought, Jesus really was on the main line, sending that call at a time when my parishioner could be surrounded by support and fed with the bread of life.

It made me think that sometimes those annoying interruptions might be the Spirit's way of making us stop and pause for a moment of grace.

I left the service singing that song,
"Jesus on the main line,
tell him what you want
Jesus on the main line,
tell him what you want.
Jesus on th main line,
tell him what you want...
call him up and tell him what you want..."

Snow Days

This week in Philadelphia we have had record breaking snow. Other than the dripping in my dining room from a snow blocked gutter, my husband and I spent two wonderful days together at home where the severe weather conditions gave us permission to watch movies, bake bread, play Scrabble, and catch up on email. I took some photos from my window including this one of the snow covered branches, marveling at the beauty and brightness of our surroundings. But the storm had another side, too, and that was made very real to me when I received a call from Sam on Thursday telling me that yet another life had been lost on the street.

His name was Bruce and he slept on the side of the church. Though Bruce was not one to come inside, he did speak to a number of us, including church members who would give him blankets and coffee. Bruce was found in an abandoned building where the snow had gotten in. He had been dead for several days when he was found.

In the short six weeks that I have been writing this blog, three of my entries have included people who died. I have not even written about John, whom I visited in Intensive Care and who also almost died from the cold.

Something is strangely out of balance here.

People should not be freezing to death.

I remember talking to one formerly homeless person after had he just moved into his apartment. He had lived on the Parkway for eighteen years and it took some adjustment after he had moved inside. One of the most difficult things, he shared, was being inside when there was bad weather. He told me that whenever it rained, he would go to the window and think about everyone that was still on the street. He said that it was hard for him to enjoy his new home when he knew there were so many still outside with no where to go. A type of survivor's guilt, maybe, but perhaps what he felt was the embodiment of Project H.O.M.E.'s motto that "None of us is home until all of us are home."

So snow days have new meaning for me. I still love the slower pace, the kids sledding and building snow sculptures. I love the way the neighbors come together on my street to see who needs what and the informal block party that happens on "dig out day." I love the way the snow sparkles in the sun like the coarse sugar I use to decorate my cookies. But I can't help but wonder who is out in the cold, alone and needing help.

And silently I pray the Serenity Prayer, asking especially for the wisdom to change the things I can.

Holy Cowl...calling all knitters!

I have an office that looks like a Costco warehouse. I mean, really.

It is filled with the latest art projects from Welcome Art, the drum set we use for our Tuesday services in one corner, household items for those who are newly housed in another, and bins and boxes of donations that come in even on days when I am not there. And somewhere, in the midst of all this is my desk, which---like Costco---offers free samples of snacks homemade from my kitchen and made especially for our volunteers.

The other day I walked (tripped?) in to find yet another addition to our stock: bags and bags of yarn.

The yarn was mostly Red Heart acrylic and it made my own heart warm to see this since this is the only yarn my mother insists on using for the afghans she loves to crochet.

Our donor, a neighbor from the co-op apartments across from the church, had visited me a day earlier because she had heard we had a group of knitters at The Welcome Center. Barbara, a petite woman with a Southern accent (that's Virginia, not South Phila) sat down to share with me how she had crocheted hundreds of hats for two cancer clinics where family members had been patients. She was now ready to try her hand at the digital sewing machine that she had barely time to use. Sharing her stash of yarn was a step towards doing this.

Smart woman, I thought. To say yes to one thing, we often have to say no to something else.

Anyway, we had a delightful visit and I learned how Barbara had been a competitive roller skater, how she made marbleized paper, and we even managed to squeeze a brief crochet lesson
into our visit. Barbara seemed perfectly comfortable sitting among the bins and boxes and even sampled one of the treats of the day...oatmeal marble cookie bars. My kind of woman.

So we have this yarn, and on Friday a group of us will sort and knit and in between stitches I know I will hear life stories that will be made easier to share as we slide those little knots back and forth on the knitting needles that I keep in a cup along with my pencils and pens.

So, I invite you and anyone you know to be part of our group by making a simple project called a "cowl."

After making one for myself, I realized how practical this was for life on the street.

A cowl is like a very loose turtle neck that is just the neck part. It is like a scarf that is connected that you put over your head to keep your neck warm. But here's the best part...you can also pull the scarf up over your head, like a hood. It doesn't fall off, and can even be worn while asleep (if you are sleeping in your clothes to keep warm outside, this is important.)

The pattern is simple, even for beginning knitters:

Cast 120 stitches on to size 9 circular needles and join, placinmg a marker on the right hand needle.

Knit 2, Purl 2 ribbing for 2".

Knit for 7" more.

Knit 2, Purl 2 ribbing for 2".

Bind off loosely.

My cowl was done in merino wool. We will be doing a bunch others in Red Heart acrylic which is washable and warm (and covers my office floor at the moment).

I believe cowls were a part of the garb that religious orders (like monks) used to wear. Thus the name I gave it, "Holy Cowls."

If you make one for yourself, please think of our friends on the street and keep them in prayer as you knit. If you'd like to share your cowl, it may be sent to The Welcome Center, 2111 Sansom Street, Phila, PA 19103.

Happy knitting!

Unshopping

The following was shared with friends and family early on in January. Some folks have asked me to include this idea of "unshopping" in my blog, so here goes...

One cold morning several years ago I was getting ready to leave my house and go into town. It was close to Christmas and when I opened the closet to grab a bag, I was struck by the number of shopping bags I had accumulated from the various stores. Of course, these bags also represented all the "stuff" I had accumulated from shopping.

I suddenly had the idea to go "unshopping."

I ran up to my bedroom and chose two sweaters that I had not yet worn. I wrapped them in tissue paper (upscale dept store style) and put them in one of the shopping bags. My goal was to "unshop" finding the right home for the sweaters.

I did this before the Ladies' Room at Suburban had been renovated. There was a little ante-room where some of the women I now see at The Welcome Center would change their clothes or just hang out. A little table was in the bathroom. I laid out the sweaters and began talking with the women, as if we were shopping together. It was not long before the sweaters were tried on and claimed. I had "unshopped." This felt so much better than shopping.

I shared this story with my previous congregation at St. Michael's and encouraged folks to unshop in other ways. Soon it became habit to carry with me an extra pair of gloves or a hat when I went into town. I met so many folks through this experience. I also began to make an extra lunch. Sometimes I would sit down with my lunchmate and we would eat together; but even if I was off running somewhere, there was always someone who appreciated the lunch.

During this particularly cold time of year and following a time when so many of us have been given more than we could ever use, I invite you to "unshop." Carry that extra pair of mittens, scarf, blanket, perfume, book or whatever it is that you might share with someone you meet in your travels. Make an extra lunch or share those Christmas cookies and a cup of tea and maybe a hello with someone you meet who is struggling. Use your judgement and respect a person's privacy. And if you are shy about talking to someone you haven't yet met, I can help you unshop through The Welcome Center and The Welcome Church.

I know that those who are reading this already do so much for so many. I know your compassion and generosity, and I know the thought of seeing folks cold or hungry brings you pain.

So, I give thanks for knowing so many good folks. feel free to share you experiences of "unshopping." I know that through the people I have met, I have received so much more than I ever could have given.

With love as we near the feast of St. Valentine!
violet

Sherwood Forest

There is an area beneath Philadelphia's City Hall leading to Suburban Station known to most as "Sherwood Forest." It got its name from the many concrete pillars that fill this area.
In the evening, this is a place where dozens of folks sleep. This is also the place that one of the men suggested might be a good spot to hold our Sunday services during inclement weather.

I really like this idea of holding service in the train station...warmth, a bathroom nearby, Dunkin Donuts for our coffee hour, and easy to find. What is more, I was reassured that SEPTA police would not chase us away.

That's the good news.

The bad news is that we would not be bothered because few people cared about what happened at all in this area that often smells like urine and has rodents scurrying after the remains of food left by those who sought shelter in this space.

I hear the name "Sherwood Forest" and immediately I think of Robin Hood. Pretty up front kind of guy---you know, stole from the rich to give to the poor; and as much as I would never encourage stealing, there is something terribly out of balance when people are sleeping on cardboard in the midst of rats while above them in our Center City hotels the thread counts on the sheets are higher than the number of calories a person might get to eat that day.

So here's an idea that I'd like to put out to my seven blog followers and to anyone else who might be reading this post. It was inspired by my friend Janet who talked about buying "shares"
to support this ministry and others like it, and by Pat who spoke to me of a ministry of welcome that might include all the work of The Welcome Church and other ministries like it. I like the word "share" because that is what's at the heart of this idea.

What if we invited folks to buy shares in The Welcome Church? Or maybe just call it the Ministry of Welcome? What if we were to set it up like a corporation, and many were invited to be "shareholders"? A share could be something small, like $5.00 (then kids could even get involved) and shareholders could have some say as to how the money would be spent. And the return? That would be the wonderful way lives are transformed, and dignity is returned, and hope is renewed for people who often feel alone and neglected.

Not stealing from the rich to give to the poor, but just giving, knowing that giving is a privilege
and that healing is contagious.

I believe in the generosity of humankind. Maybe, the way to end homelessness is to "take stock." So, I am putting it out there for comments or for personal emails.

Because no one should have to sleep in Sherwood Forest.

What do QVC and The Welcome Church have in common?

The answer is testimony.

We opened today's service with a lively old gospel song, "I've Got a Testimony!"

I chose it because I thought it would be a great song for Spencer to play along with on the drums...and it was...but then we began to talk about this word, testimony, used in law, Twelve Step Meetings, church...and yes--QVC.

For those of you not familiar with QVC, it is a home shopping network that I first came across when the war began in Iraq. I was so distressed by the war and the coverage on every station that I started watching QVC, one big info-mercial that I knew would have nothing to say about the horrors beginning in Iraq.

What caught my eye about QVC was their "testimonial line." The testimonial line was a place
where folks who had used a featured product could call in and "witness" or "give testimony" to the product's effectiveness, durability, beauty, or any other reason why they loved it. The testimonial line was what sold me on my first product from QVC, Space Bags---those things that you use to pack away all those extra and out of season clothing. Now I just try to give those things away and not spend more money on ways to store them.

But back to Tuesday Church. After hearing "I've Got A Testimony" and being energized by Spence's playing on the drums I asked the group, "So, what's a tetsimony?"

The answers were all wonderful and included words like "sharing" and "praising" and all kinds of good ways of telling, but the one that stayed with me came from someone who I am not sure was completely sober but who spoke from his heart saying, " A testimony is when you think that nobody cares or sees you and you think there is no hope and you're lying in the street and then you feel something that pulls you up and is with you and loves you and then you tell other people about it."

And there it was...testimony.

Abraham Heschel, sage and rabbi once said that in the end, faith is not about proof but about witness. Not about quoting one Scripture text to support whatever it is you are trying to prove, but listening to the stories of the amazing things God has done in the lives of God's people, in spite of ourselves.

The service continued and , then just as I was to say the prayer over the bread and the grape juice, someone raised his hand with the "ooo-ooo" excitement of Arnold Horschak on "Welcome Back Kotter" (an ancient sit-com) and asked, "So, why would God, lead us into temptation, anyway?" referring to a line we had just prayed from The Lord's Prayer.

I looked at him and promised we could talk about it next Tuesday, hoping that, by then, I'd find the answer...

So that's a hint of Tuesday church, shaped by the "interruptions" but always held together by the glue of grace.

And that's my testimony!

So how do you take your communion? aka street church

So, how do you take your communion?

The phrase kept popping up in my mind as I distributed the sacrament to folks simultaneously being given cups of hot coffee from Dunkin' Donuts.

It was sixteen degrees at Logan Circle and we had gathered for our second "street church" service. The coffee had been intended for our "Coffee Hour" following the service, but it was cold, and for many the coffee was what warmed their hands as I reminded them that the body of Christ really was given for us all.

With each cracked hand that received the bread and each dry tongue that waited for the wafer I was reminded over and over of Jesus saying, "Take and eat...take and eat..."

So we had our second service at Logan Circle, praying the 23rd psalm and the serenity prayer, hearing Dennis proclaim the radical word of God that charity does not begin at home but wherever there is need, giving thanks for the birth of twins born to Arthur's daughter only hours earlier, and hearing the prayer of a son for his mother returning home from surgery, culminating in communion and coffee or coffee and communion, depending on where you were standing.

And, even after all the coffee and danish were gone, and following several attempts to pack up, folks kept coming for the body of Christ, wanting to be part of the body that joined us together.

Dave thought there were at least 100 folks present based on the coffee that was distributed, and somehow, the oneness of it all could be felt.

So, how do you take your communion? I think Jesus might say in whatever way spoke of his presence in the suffering. So, today, it was with coffee and danish.