Maria

Today it was "Code Blue" here in Philadelphia, a phrase that means the temperature outside was low enough to be life threatening. For Maria, the weather not only threatened her life, it took it.



On such days we open our doors earlier than usual at The Welcome Center. We can't stand to have anyone waiting outside in the cold, so the church where are housed not only gives us additional hours but additional space. Today, nearly 90 folks came to the Center.



The feeling was good inside...warmth and movies and plenty of lunch for everyone. It felt like a collective snow day without the snow, just the being together in warmth and safety. If I had not known the stories and the struggles of so many of the folks with us today, I would have thought we were at some kind of a social club with laughter being exchanged, warm greetings, and comfort. But I did know many of the stories and it amazed me to experience so much joy in spite of the struggles.



And then I got the call from Sam. The connection on my cell phone was not good and I was struggling to hear his words. Maybe the struggle had to do with what Sam was saying or the pain I heard in his voice. Sam, from Outreach, had shared that Maria was found dead under one of the bridges where she slept. He was with some of the medical team from Jefferson and they were waiting for the Medical Examiner. Though he couldn't tell for sure, most likely Maria died from drinking to stay warm, then falling into a deep sleep and freezing to death.



This should never be. Ever.



Sam asked for prayers for Maria, her family, and all who are on the street , and I prayed for him, too. And he asked me to plead with the folks at The Welcome Center to please be careful in this very cold weather.



I went into the room where folks were gathered as we prepared for lunch. I shared this sad announcement and one man who knew Maria well let out an agonizing cry. When he asked me if she was dead, I said, "Yes, I believe so..." still having a hard time taking this in myself.



We paused and offered prayers and I did talk to folks about alcohol in this weather and making sure they had a place inside tonight. One person said to me, "This is just wrong!" and it is...



An article in the Los Angeles Times done on street medicine (Doctors who go out on the street with outeach teams) said that the average age of death for someone who is living on the street is 48--an age that most of us in this country would call "middle age." An age when some of us are just getting the hang of life.



I don't know Maria's age or much of anything about her. I do know her last name, and I hesitate to use it on the off chance her family, if any, is reading this and does not yet know that she has died. All I know is that her life was precious and she should not have frozen to death under a bridge.



I'm writing way past midnight and it is still so cold outside. There is a chance of snow and I can't help but wonder about all the Marias outside tonight. I hand it over to God and pray for their protection, but God always gives a little piece of it back over to me, and I don't get off the hook that easily. And so I do what I can, and I am grateful for so many good people who struggle with me to end homelessness.



Into your hands, O God we commend, Maria's spirit. Amen.

Take and Eat

A funny thing happened to me last week. I was in the middle of our Tuesday Church service getting ready to distribute communion when I noticed a piece of soft pretzel on the plate along with the thin wafers we use for communion. It wasn't on the plate before I started the service---really---and when I asked who put it there no one seemed to know. I didn't get that "I'm in trouble with the principal" kind of look; nor did anyone laugh. Rather, folks really didn't know how it got there, nor did anyone seem to think it was a particularly big deal.

So, after all these months of talking about how Jesus chose bread as a way to be present with us, I was the only one thinking it a bit odd that a piece of a Philadelphia soft pretzel appeared on the plate.

OK, it was strange.

I distributed communion, taking the pretzel off the plate and placing it on the altar. Quite a different picture from having grown up in the fifties in a tradition where I wasn't allowed to scrape the sticky wafer off the the roof of my mouth for fear of disrespecting Jesus. Back then, it was better to choke than have my fingers touch the body of Christ.

But decades later, even in the church of my childhood, communion is to be touched, cradled, and taken within...the reality of incarnation, the Word made flesh and living among us and in us.

When we first started celebrating communion together at Tuesday Church, communion was whatever bread I had in my house. Sometimes it was a stale Italian bread, sometimes leftover French, and sometimes it was even Nann. Jesus as bread, common to all of humankind, across the globe.

And last week, there was that Philadelphia pretzel. A very contextual theology.

What would Jesus look like if he came into The Welcome Church today?

I kind of think Jesus does come, every day, every where, and just to be sure I don't miss him...well, I'd better treat each one as if they were the Christ dwelling in our midst.
And somehow, we continue to be fed by the one who still invites us to "Take and eat..."

So wafer or tortilla, cracker or pretzel, I guess what really matters is that , the Word made flesh lives among us, and was given for us.

And so I say Amen!

Remembering Jimmy

Earlier this week I learned that Jimmy died.

I heard of his death the way I usually hear of such things on thestreet---through word of mouth. No obituary, no viewing, and I still don't know the exact circumstances, when or where or how Jimmy died. There is part of me that doesn't even quite believe he died, almost like on a soap opera when someone either fakes their death or when there is no body and they miraculously show up years later. I even sent Jimmy an email after I had heard that he died, hoping the information was incorrect. And for those who don't know, many folks on the street do have email addresses using the computers in the public library.

I looked up some of the last emails Jimmy sent me. It was in September around the time of my installation. Jimmy had gotten a job for that afternoon playing piano at a chuch and he wasn't sure he would make it over to the park in time for my installation. He missed it, but he came to visit me at The Welcome Center excited that his disability insurance had come through. He also said that he would like to play for our Tuesday Church services as part of his "tithe", refusing to accept the stipend I offered.

But let me tell you about Jimmy and how we met.

Jimmy showed up at The Welcome Center one day, nearly three years ago when he was pretty down on his luck. Our sexton, at that time, invited Jimmy to come inside and have some lunch. Jimmy said that what he really wanted was to play the piano. Jason brought Jimmy into the chapel where we had a keyboard and Jimmy sat down and played. He was amazing. Soon a small crowd of us gathered around and Jimmy began to sing. He sang, "Pass Me Not, O Gentle Savior." This man who had been passed by on the street so many times, sang "Pass Me Not," and we were mesmerized. His voice brought us to another place, a place of peace and beauty, but also to a place of one who knew the deepest suffering. Peace and suffering, both at the same time.

Jimmy continued to visit us and to play and sing whenever he could. The playing and singing brought him healing, but for the rest of us it was pure gift.

Jimmy gave me many gifts, including a string of antique pearls he found and was given while cleaning someone's basement. The pearls were in a pink box from The Blum Store, an old Philadelphia store that no longer existed. They are the kind of pearls that are individually knotted, so if one breaks all the others won't fall apart.

It was the first time a parishioner had given me pearls; but in The Welcome Church, people offer what they have, and this time it was pearls.

Jimmy gave me many gifts, and I want to say thank you....

For bringing me the gospel music that I had missed so much from St. Michael's, my former congregation.

For teaching us a Welcome Church favorite, "There is None Like You."

For starting Tuesday Church with me and allowing me to believe that we could form a choir.

For calling me "sis" which for Jimmy meant I was part of his family, maybe a kind of nun, and someone to whom he often confided.

For being part of my life and our life together in both The Welcome Center and The Welcome Church in so many ways.

Rest in peace, Jimmy, in the arms of the One who passes no one by.

Compassion

It's been several days since I have written. The devastation in Haiti has left me speechless. But today, remembering Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. I'd like to share something that happened the other day during "Tea Time" at The Welcome Center. For me, it was a true picture of compassion, the word that means "to suffer with."

We were gathered around an especially full table for tea. Ralph had a good donation day from ShopRite, so along with out tea we were treated to somebody's birthday cake with their misspelled name, a blueberry marble cake, donuts, and the soft philadelphia pretzels that Ralph gets from his cousin in South Philly. It had been cold and many of the folks with me that day were coming from their homes on the street, in the tunnels, and various other creative spots wher people "camped."

We were having tea and light conversation when one person asked, "What can we do about Haiti?" The conversation shifted to the people of this tiny country and the tragic earthquake.

What followed was one of the most compassionate discussions I have ever experienced. The men and women gathered around the table tried to think of what they might do to help. They connected especially around their experience of homelessness, not separating out the Americans from the Haitians in the midst of this horror, but really connecting in the suffering.

Martin Luther King Jr. spoke of us being woven into one web of humanity. Sister Mary Scullion, and the good people of Project H.O.M.E. say that "none of us is home until all of us are home."
For the Israelites, the concept of shalom meant that their could be no peace untill all were at peace; and St. paul talks about us being members of "one body."

I have shared with many the story of my friend, Linda. Linda had no feeling from the waist down, due to a terrible car accident. One day she fell out of her wheelcair at home. She was not in pain, so she didn't think much about the fall---that is, until an infection in her fractured leg almost cost Linda her life.

We are one body, and we must pay attention when any part is suffering. If we don't, it could cost us our lives. It is really that important.

So, with Martin and Sister Mary, with St. Paul and the saints of The Welcome Church, I pray that I may never stop feeling the pain of others, and that with the help of God, I might tend to the wounds in whatever way I can.

With gratitude for the life and legacy of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and all the prophets in our midst on this third anniversary of The WelcomeCenter,

violet

We Have a Drummer!

"Behold...I will do something new..." Isaiah 43

Since last Tuesday was our first service together in the new year, I read the above text from Isaiah and asked the question, "What new thing would you hope for in this year?"

The answers varied and were thoughtful. As we continued to share, I could feel the hope growing in the room. One person, a quiet and gentle young man with a smile that gave as much light as our candles, spoke about playing the drums. He said that he had played since he was five and that he drummed and sang for several different churches. I became quite excited and asked if he would play for us and he said he would really like that. I didn't know how, but I assured him the drums would come.

That was Tuesday.

The following Monday I was talking with someone who said, "Could you use a set of drums?"
She had not known about the conversaion at Tuesday Church; rather, she was cleaning out some things and had a set of drums!

Now, you have to believe me that I don't usually get such offers. Usually, I get offers of coats or socks or household things for people moving into apartments. But drums?

They were delivered on Tuesday, in time for me to announce this gift at yesterday's service, and I did notice a few new folks when they heard this series of events. Folks thought it was nothing short of a miracle. And it was...but no less a miracle than having this young man speak of his dream and share what he needed to make that happen.

My challenge was not to have folks look upon God as a divine Santa Claus...at the same time, I do believe that God really, really wants us to use our gifts and to find joy in sharing those gifts with others. In fact, I believe God was as excited as we were when one generous person thought to share these drums with us in a place where a drummer was ready to drum! And I could see new things happening, not only for our drummer, but for each one of us at The Welcome Church.

At the end of yesterday's service, our drummer asked if he could also sing next week and teach us a song he used to sing at his other churches. I was thrilled.

So we have a drummer, and we have drums!

Okay...now for the keys and bass....and the choir...

and whatever new surprises God has in store for us.

Bridge Over Troubled Waters

When I was in college, ther was a very popular Simon and Garfunkel song called "Bridge Over Troubled Waters." It started out with these words,
"When you're weary...feelin' small
when tears are in your eyes
I will dry them all."
I loved this song, especially the image of someone being my "Bridge Over Troubled Waters."

This week, however, a dear friend sent me a favorite Bible passage:
Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by name, you are mine.
When you pass through the waters,
I will be with you;
and through the rivers,
they shall not overwhelm you… Isaiah 43:1-2

I like this even better than what Simon and Garfunkel had to offer. I like it better because what I have learned since my college days is that there will always be times of "troubled waters" and that the way to get ot the other side of them isn't so much about "getting over" them as it is about "going through."

So this is the promise we are given. That even going through the most troubled waters, we will never be alone.

Maybe the next time we hear someone say that they are "goin' through it" we can be the voice that echoes the prophet.

Taking Risks

This week I had the joy of being able to give three supermarket gift cards away. The only stipulation I was given was that the cards be offered to someone with children who was struggling financially. Most of the folks I see are not currently living with their children; if a person is living on the street, their children are either with relatives or in foster homes. Still, I was able to think of three folks who were working really hard to take care of their children.

I met with each of these three folks, good people facing some really hard times. Each was thrilled to be given this gift that was donated by the very generous Honickman family and made available to me through Sister Mary Scullion of Project H.O.M.E. I was happy these families would have the thrill of doing something for their children.

Yesterday I learned that one of the recipients sold their card. I felt betrayed and even a little angry; but riding home in the car I was reminded that maybe the card was sold for something else that was needed more immediately. As far as I knew, this person did not have any addictons; but he did have a serious illness.

At any rate, this made me think of something Elie Wiesel, said one time when I had heard him speak at a college commencement. Someone asked Mr. Wiesel, Holocaust survivor and writer, what he did when people on the street asked him for money. He said that he struggled with this as much as anyone, but that he often ended up giving something. When the student said, "What if the person used the money for drugs or alcohol?" Elie Wiesel looked at him and said, "I think when I get to heave and stand face to face with my Creator the question won't be what the person did with the money I gave him; rather, I believe the almighty will ask, 'How did you respond to a person who asked you for help?'"

I know that in three years since I began The Welcome Center ther were times when folks were not completely honest with me. But trust takes time, addictions are powerful, and when faced with life threatening situations, we often do whatever it takes to survive. So ther are some risks in doing the work that I do. But to me, the bigger risk is not responding to a person who is suffering. Because when one person hurts, we all hurt.

The We in Me...

Last night I had a dream that I was on retreat with some of the folks from The Welcome Center.
This was not so much of a stretch since myself and eight other women did go on retreat together several weeks ago to Cranaleith Spiritual Center. In my dream, however, we were directed to a recovery group known as "The We in Me."

As someone who is a psychotherapist and has extensively studied psychoanalysis, I must admit that this sounds a little like multiple personalities. Reflecting upon my dream, however, I came to realize that it is difficult separating out the work I have done these past three years as Founder and Director of The Welcome Center and now moving into the position of Pastor of The Welcome Church.

The fact is that it is impossible to separate the mind from the body and the body from the soul. A person who is hungry might have a very difficult time participating a Bible study. At the same time, The Welcome Church evolved because a full belly was not enough to hang on to during those long nights on the street.

I remember coming back from a "Come and See" weekend in Cambridge where The Reverend Debbie Little, founder of Ecclesia Ministries and The Common Cathedral in Boston first place the Ecclesia cross around my neck. I brought one back for each of our volunteers at The Welcome Center and for any of the guests who asked for one. One person told me later that week that the cross was a way for her to carry us with her during the night. Another person wore it when admitted to the hospital and would not let anyone take it off. A seminarian who worked with us said that he hung his over the mirror, so that he would always see the cross in his reflection reminding him that he was a child of God.

So, what does it mean as I transition from Director to Pastor when I never actually stopped being Pastor?

Some days, like today, I will be helping someone get into a respite.

Some days, like today, I will be serving tea and sharing birthday cake.

and some days, like today, I will be praying with someone struggling to get clean from using drugs.

But always, I pray that everything I do speaks of the God who loves us and wants no one to be homeless or hungry or lonely.

So, I am guessing that the "We in Me" is about all the different parts of who I am as a pastor...therapist...and everything else...all held together as one child of God.

Church Without Walls

After watching the delightful movie "Julie and Julia" and receiving a recipe book for my Crock Pot based on yet another blog, I decided it was time to do my own blog around this new ministry called "The Welcome Church."

Like most important things in my life, The Welcome Church happened in a "backwards" sort of way. First came the non-religious (but very spiritual) non-profit called The Welcome Center, a place of healing and hospitality for people experiencing homelessness. It was not long, however, that a worshipping community formed among our guests, and we began doing Bible study, having prayer, and weekly communion services. Thus grew "The Welcome Church," open to all, and recognized by the ELCA (Evangelical Lutheran Church in America) as a SAWC, or Synodically Authorized Worshipping Community. OK. So this means that as one ordained in the Lutheran Church, I can serve as pastor.

But why a church without walls?

Though our weekly communion services are held inside and hosted by Lutheran Church of the Holy Communion at 2111 Sansom Street, Tuesdays at 2:00, our ultimate goal is to have services outdoors. We have begun with monthly services on the Benjamin Franklin Parkway, at Logan Circle in Philadelphia.

So why outdoors, especially when we are hit with Arctic blast such as we are now experiencing?

Well, many of our friends living on the street simply are not comfortable inside the walls of a church.

Actually, many of my housed friends are not so comfortable inside a church either.

Building costs are cheap...well, really, non-existent.

Great for folks with claustrophobia, or for people who just need to move around, or feel they can't get through a whole service without taking a smoke break (we do ask folks to step back a little if they are going to smoke)

Street church is terrifc for those who might just want to "listen in".

And being church outdoors is a wonderful public witness of hope and grace.

So, a group of us clergy type folks from several different traditions will be gathering in a few weeks to explore ways to be this church without walls.

This is my first attempt at blogging and I could use all the help I can get, including your commnets, prayers, and ideas. So thanks to anyone who takes the time to read and write.