Angels at Manna House

Angels at the Manna House

This past Monday, September 29^th, after the gate to the backyard was opened, we gathered with our guests as we do each morning, to pray.  On that day, as I led the prayer, I announced that it was the Feast of Archangels, Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael.  And then I shared Hebrews 13:2, “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing so some have entertained angels unawares.”  I invited all of us present to welcome each other, with the possibility that some whom we welcomed were angels, messengers of God.  (The Hebrew word for angel is mal`ach, and the Greek word is angelos; both words mean “messenger”).

Since it was specifically the Feast of the Archangels, I asked if Michael, Gabriel, or Raphael were present.  Michael raised his hand with a smile.  Not bad, I thought, we had one out of three of the archangels with us this morning.  And for that I was thankful, because as I had read about angels earlier in The Benedictine Prayer Book, “They are the hands which God extends to uphold us, the wings God spreads to shield us” (Abbot Anthanasius Recheis, Angels: Spirits, Magnificent and Mighty).

            I like that the Bible find angels and hospitality go together well.  Abraham and Sarah welcomed visitors who were angels (Genesis 18).  The same angels found Lot to be hospitable, but the people of Sodom to be utter failures when it came to hospitality (Genesis 19, Ezekial 16:49).  Mary had an angelic visitor, namely Gabriel, giving her the news that she was pregnant with Jesus (Luke 1:26-38).  Mary was quite hospitable, given the surprising news Gabriel gave in that visit.

            There is an ancient and poetic depiction of angels in the Book of Revelation, the same angels who we welcome in the practice of hospitality.  In Revelation, these angels are crucial in spiritual warfare (and in particular the angel who was with us on Monday is mentioned). “Now war arose in heaven, Michael and his angels fighting against the dragon; and the dragon and his angels fought, but they were defeated… And the great dragon was thrown down, that ancient serpent, who is called the Devil and Satan, the deceiver of the whole world…..” (Revelation 12:7-9).

After this battle is over “a loud voice” is heard “saying, ‘Now the salvation and the power and the kingdom of our God and the authority of his Christ have come, for the accuser of our brothers and sisters has been thrown down, who accuses them day and night before our God’” (Revelation 12:10-12).

So the angels acting on the authority of Jesus Christ have overturned the prosecutor who would condemn us on Judgment Day.  Or as Dorothy Day said, “I firmly believe that our salvation depends upon the poor.”  And she, of course, was reflecting Jesus’ words, “Whatever you do unto the least of these you do unto me,” as he described the judgment on the last day of the sheep who offered hospitality to the hungry, the thirsty, the naked, the sick and the imprisoned, and the goats who did not (Matthew 25:31-44).

            Who will advocate for us on Judgment Day?  It is not a question I dwell on, but talk of angels and spiritual warfare along with the shortening days of the fall (it is dark now when I arrive at Manna House to start the coffee), certainly encourages me to have apocalyptic and eschatological thoughts and feelings.  On the Feast of Archangels all of this gets jumbled up with words about hospitality, and lo and behold, the very angels to whom we offer hospitality are the ones who threw out the D.A. (District Accuser a.k.a. Satan).  Michael and the others angels, to whom we offer hospitality, are our Public Defenders advocating for us on Judgment Day.

Well, Crap!

Well, Crap!

I was doing laundry at Manna House today.  One of the important parts of that job is checking pants pockets to see if they’re empty, or to empty them of change or cigarettes or papers before putting the pants into the washing machine. 

One pair of paints yielded a pink piece of paper with the heading, “Misdemeanor Citation In Lieu of Continued Custody of Arrested Person.”  The charge on the citation was “Indecent Exposure.”  The description of the offense, “Defendant [insert name] was observed exposing himself while urinating on the outside of gas station…”  The location was “Cleveland and Poplar,” just a few blocks from Manna House. At the bottom of the pink paper was a court date at 201 Poplar.

When I read this I started to wonder.  Is it possible to urinate without exposing oneself?  I also wondered if people know that access to a toilet is quite difficult for persons experiencing homelessness.  I know our bathroom is continuously used from the moment we open until the moment we close.

Businesses don’t like people from the streets using their bathrooms.  Quite often they even have signs saying so, “Bathrooms are for customers only.”  Back in the day the signs would read, “Whites Only.”  Denying access to toilets is one way the powers that be (Paul called them “principalities and powers”) exert dehumanizing control over those that they oppress.  This might also be called the “criminalizing of poverty.”

The underwear of our guests at Manna House also tell this story.  As I sort the laundry of our guests who come in to shower, I see a lot of soiled underwear.  People have crapped in their pants or couldn’t get themselves quite clean because they didn’t have access to a toilet and toilet paper. I’m guessing that doesn’t feel very good, to walk around in soiled underwear.

Jesus said, “I soiled my underwear and you gave me a new pair.”  He also said, “I had to go to the bathroom and you provided me a restroom.”

If you don’t remember those verses check out Matthew 25:31-46.  Ok, I paraphrased a little bit, sort of like “The Message” paraphrases, only this is “The Message from the Streets.”

Rest in Peace Bennie

Rest in Peace Bennie             

James came by Manna House today.  He had some sad news to share.  His uncle Bennie died two weeks ago.  Bennie was a regular guest with us for several years.  Miss Roberta, his sister, would bring him.  They’d walk quite a distance to get to Manna House.  They weren’t homeless; they just liked to come to Manna House for the company, and to get a few personal hygiene items that they couldn’t really afford. 

For Miss Roberta, who was getting up in age, this certainly was not an easy journey to make to Manna House.  Bennie was lighter in his step, but he was a bit hunched over, and his stride was a distinctive short, almost hopping, motion.  He had a lot of nervous energy and moved about in the house and the yard quite a bit.  When they stopped coming to Manna House it was because they lived too far away, and Miss Roberta just couldn’t make the trip anymore.  Bennie did come without Miss Roberta on a few occasions, but it was quite rare.  He seemed lost without her.

Bennie was very difficult to understand.  He had, a number of years before, inadvertently ingested something that was poisonous (apparently from a girlfriend who was mad at him), and as Miss Roberta would say, “After that he just wasn’t right anymore.”  She would alternate between sweet patience and frustration with Bennie.  Bennie loved coffee, with lots of sugar and creamer.  He would put so much in the coffee that it became like soup, and he would sip it using a spoon.  He was a bit susceptible to spills, which Miss Roberta would clean up.  

Bennie also loved to get “napkins” which was what he called tissue for blowing his nose, which seemed to be perpetually running.  The clearest we ever heard Bennie speak was when he came in the clothing room one day, and he was asked if he wanted some clothes hangers (we had so many extras we were giving them away).  He very forcefully said, “I don’t want any damn hangers.”  There was no misunderstanding him that day.

Bennie had a hard time staying out of the clothing room.  He’d remember something that he had forgotten to ask for and he’d want to come back in.  Some days this would happen five or six times, and each time we’d have to tell Bennie he couldn’t come back in after leaving.  I’m thinking Miss Roberta was probably right to alternate between patience and frustration with Bennie. 

One of the things about their relationship that was very evident was that she loved him dearly.  She watched out for him, made sure the street was clear before they’d cross.  She served as his translator when he’d come into the clothing room for “socks and hygiene.”  In some ways she seemed like a parent to him, caring for him, making sure he was safe.

When we started Manna House nine years ago, I had no idea how many wonderful people I’d meet as we shared hospitality.  And some of those wonderful folks have also been unforgettable characters.  Bennie was certainly one of those.  Rest in peace Bennie.  You will be missed.

A Miraculous Resurrection Story

A Miraculous Resurrection Story

Sometimes we are graced to see a transformation in a person that rises to the level where the words “miraculous” and “resurrection” seem accurate in description.  We catch a glimpse of the fullness of God’s Kingdom for which we hope and by which we offer hospitality.

In the Gospel of Mark the story begins, “They came to the other side of the sea, into the country of the Gerasenes.  When Jesus got out of the boat, immediately a man from the tombs with an unclean spirit met Him, and he had his dwelling among the tombs. And no one was able to bind him anymore, even with a chain… no one was strong enough to subdue him. Constantly, night and day, he was screaming among the tombs and in the mountains, and gashing himself with stones” (Mark 5:1-5).

This could have been written about Sherri (not her real name).  Though she was a regular guest at Manna House, and could restrain herself for a short time to get coffee or a shower, she mostly moved about the streets completely unrestrained, screaming, and wildly gesticulating.  There was a wild and vacant stare in her eyes.  Her clothes were unkempt, and she was often barefoot from losing her shoes.  Surely to see her was to see her in the state of being cursed and crucified, as cursed and as crucified as Jesus when he was hung upon a tree (Deuteronomy 21:22-23, Galatians 3:13).

Then something happened, and Tuesday we lived into this Gospel passage of miracle and resurrection as we saw Sherri at Manna House:  “They came to Jesus and observed the man who had been demon-possessed sitting down, clothed and in his right mind, the very man who had had the ‘legion’” (Mark 5:15).

Sherri came to Manna House for coffee and a shower and change of clothes, like she has done so many other times.  But now she had on slightly worn but good and clean clothing, including comfortable shoes.  Her eyes were bright, and welcoming.  She spoke softly and laughed easily as Ann and Kathleen worked with her helping her select new (gently used) clothing to change into after showering.  Sherri had been healed.  Sherri was now housed, we learned, and she was starting to access the mental health care she needed.  The transformation was miraculous.  Resurrection was evident.  Her oppression had been overthrown, and she was released into her humanity and dignity, which had for so long been denied.

There is a an organization in Memphis that works with Sherri and others like her.  It has the completely accurate name of “Friends for Life."  Manna House was the place where Sherri was welcomed even as she was cursed and crucified, and then "Friends for Life" welcomed her further, into housing, into mental health care, into community.  "Friends for Life" had acted like Jesus who said, “Come out of this person you unclean spirit” (Mark 5:8).  And truly this demon’s name was “Legion”—the organized systemic evil of an empire that is death-dealing, that oppresses, curses, and crucifies the poor, the mentally ill, and those living among the tombs and mountains of homelessness.

Thanks be to God for "Friends for Life" (and another organization that does very similar work, "Outreach, Housing and Community") that resists those ways of Legion.  Thanks be to God for their working of miracles.  Thanks be to God for Sherri, resurrected!  Now if only the demons of Legion, poverty, racism, homelessness, lack of health care—the system that curses and crucifies—would go away completely into the sea!  (Mark 5:13)  We live and work toward that Kingdom of God. “Amen.  Come, Lord Jesus!” (Revelation 22:20).

Sugar and Honey from the Rock

Sugar and Honey from the Rock

“… with honey from the rock I would satisfy you” (Psalm 81:16)

“Don’t do any task in order to get it over with. Resolve to do each job in a relaxed way, with all your attention. Enjoy and be one with your work.” ― Thích Nhất Hạnh

Given the amount of sugar our guests put into their coffee it is no wonder that they are sweet.  Each morning we set out two tables in the backyard.  On each table there are two sugar containers, along with two containers of powdered creamer, and two mugs filled with water and stirring spoons.  Once we open, guests line up and are served coffee.  From the coffee line they walk to one of those two tables and mix in sugar and creamer.

Our guests love their coffee (we usually serve 350-450 cups each morning).  They also love sugar and creamer in their coffee.  New volunteers assigned to make sure the sugar and creamer stays available to our guests throughout the morning are always surprised at the amount of both our guests go through.

On Monday and Tuesday, I am typically the one who gets to Manna House early to start the coffee.  On most of those mornings, before others get there, I also do a few other jobs to get Manna House ready for hospitality.  One of those jobs is filling the sugar containers.

This past Tuesday, as I stood in the kitchen, filling sugar containers, I reflected on the number of mundane tasks that have to be done well if hospitality is to be done well.  One of those tasks, filling the sugar containers, is quite simple, but also requires attention.  Attention is not required because of the complexity of the work.  Attention is required because otherwise the work might not be done well, and might not be done with an attitude of openness to God’s loving presence in the work of hospitality.  Without this kind of attention, filling the sugar containers (or any of the other multiple mundane tasks at Manna House) can easily become just one more damn thing that has to be done.

Attention means making sure the sugar going into the containers isn’t filled with lumps.  Attention means making sure the sugar container lids go on gently, so they don’t get stuck.  Attention means not dropping a sugar container on the floor.  Attention means remembering that all of this work is for our guests, and that our guests bring to us the very loving presence of God.  Attention means remembering that our guests are God’s “sweet honey in the rock.”  Attention makes filling the sugar containers a prayer, a time of openness to God’s loving presence.

            In prayer on Tuesday, before I started filling the sugar containers, I was intrigued by that phrase in the Psalms, “honey from the rock.”  What kind of honey is that?  What kind of sweetness comes from a rock?  One biblical commentary said the phrase, “evidently means ‘honey of the best’ –native honey, stored by the bees in clefts of the rocks.”  It makes me think of our guests, with very rocky lives.  Yet when we pay attention to do the work of hospitality well, a place emerges in which our guests are willing to (in Kathleen’s phrase), “bring us their best.”  They offer us their sweetness.

            Somehow everything comes together:  the sweetness our guests pour into their coffee, the sweetness our guests offer to each other and to us at Manna House, and paying attention, which makes for a sweet time putting sugar into sugar containers.

Sanctuary Part II

Manna House, I wrote last week, is a sanctuary, a holy place, which is to say a place set aside from the ordinary, a place to encounter God, and as a sanctuary Manna House is also a place of refuge and protection.  Last week I did not address why sanctuary is needed.  Why do we need a place for encounter with God, which is also a place of refuge and protection?

A few weeks ago, near the end of the morning at Manna House, I was sitting with some students from the Southern College of Optometry who had volunteered with us.  They had to leave a bit early to get back to classes, so we shared a time in which they could ask questions about Manna House, and also reflect on their experience. 

As we sat in the living room, a guest came to the door.  I invited him in, and he began to say that he wanted to speak with me in private.  I told him we don’t do private conversations at Manna House, but he could tell me what he needed.  Just then a man came up the porch, rushed into the house, and began to slug the guest about the head.  I quickly moved between the two, and pushed the aggressor toward the door.  Meanwhile others in the room pulled the guest away and into the clothing room.  I guess the aggressor saw that he was out numbered, as he took off.

            After he was gone, I talked with the guest.  He had been on the run that morning, and was scared; so scared that he had crapped his pants.  That is what he wanted to tell me in private.  So, we got him a shower and a change of clothes.  The streets can be violent.  There needs to be a place where someone can run to and be safe.  Sanctuary.

Guests at Manna House have been beat up, run over by cars, arrested and jailed, told to “move along,” assaulted by security guards, verbally abused, and turned away from restaurants when they have wanted to use the bathroom.  People experiencing homelessness are often feared, hated, despised, rejected, mocked.   There needs to be a place where everyone is accepted and treated with dignity. Sanctuary.

            Last week, I came across an article that detailed a national problem of young people who are gay, lesbian, or transgendered being rejected by their parents and ending up out on the streets.  We continue to welcome all people to Manna House, as we have from the beginning.  Over the years we have had many guests who are on the streets because their sexuality meant they were kicked out of their family’s home, and shunned by the churches in which they had grown up.  Some have shared how those experiences led to suicide attempts and other forms of self-destructive behaviors.  God too often gets presented in a way that is hateful, violent; anything but One who offers love and welcome.  There needs to be a place where God is not the basis for hatred of others, but where God welcomes all of us in the name of life, liberation, and love.  Sanctuary. 

             We all need sanctuary, guest and volunteer alike, where we can feel safe, be accepted and treated with dignity, and where God is experienced as compassionate rather than as dominating and oppressing control.   

            I know Manna House offers a limited sanctuary, and also fails from time to time in offering sanctuary.  For one, we’re not always open.  And, on occasion (very rare but it happens) violence has so overwhelmed hospitality that we had to close for the day.  I’m also sure, not everyone who comes to Manna House, whether guest or volunteer, gets the sanctuary they are seeking.  Personalities clash, disagreements erupt, relationships end. 

            But the most important way sanctuary is limited at Manna House is that finally it is never enough.  Beyond sanctuary we need to be engaged in ongoing agitation to change a world that requires sanctuary into a world that is just and therefore welcoming of all.  To be the change we seek to see, yes, but we must also seek the change that needs to be.

Sanctuary

Sanctuary.  A guest who was with us when Manna House began, stopped by today.  He’s been off the streets now for three plus years.  “I’m doing what I need to do.  Going to AA Meetings, going to church, staying sober, watching what I eat, taking care of my health—I quit smoking last year.  I see my old friends from the streets, I say ‘hi’ but then I say ‘goodbye.’  I’m only human.  I have my old weaknesses.  I can’t be around them.”
We talked about the day, when he was still on the streets, and he was at Manna House waiting for his shower, and he stopped a police cruiser from driving into the backyard of Manna House.  He had seen us stop the police before from coming onto the property, and on this day he had stepped up and told the police they could go no further.  I saw from a window in the house what was happening and went out to back him up.  A police officer asked me if I was in charge, and I said “No.  He’s in charge,” and then I pointed at the guest.  The police turned away and left.  Sanctuary.
We had haircuts at Manna House today.  Two volunteers, one black man, one white woman, carefully listened and responded to requests for styles of cut, and offered shaves as well.  During reflection these two volunteers shared about how doing haircuts is similar to the practice of washing feet that Jesus shared with his disciples, and that some Christian traditions continue to this day (including Manna House on the third Thursday of each month at the Foot Clinic).  The first observed, “I can’t really explain the experience, the holiness of what happens, but doing this work brings out the Holy Spirit.  Our faces are a place of intimacy and vulnerability.  We don’t let just anybody touch our faces.  So here our guests gift us with their trust; they offer us their faces.”  The second told about a guest who suffers greatly from mental illness, he doesn’t let anyone get very close to him.  He came up at the end of the day and asked for a haircut and a shave. “I was careful to be especially gentle.  He sat quietly and let me cut his hair and shave his beard.”  Sanctuary.
 “This place is changing me,” another volunteer offered.  “I didn’t come expecting to learn so much, to be offered so much by the guests.  Their humanity is changing me.  I’m learning to offer respect, love, myself, and not see giving as just giving money.  Jesus didn’t offer money to people in need; he offered himself, he offered a healing touch, food to be shared.”  Sanctuary.
I recalled a line from the Rule of St. Benedict: a monastery is to be a “School in the Lord’s Service.”  Manna House is that kind of school.  We learn here how to serve God in serving Jesus incarnate in the person from the streets, the person wrestling with mental illness and addiction, the person deeply grieving the loss of his son, or mother, or wife, or other loved one, the person without work or with work that is never enough for a place to live.  This place teaches us to love one another, to offer welcome and receive welcome, to share life.  Sanctuary.
  Sanctuary, the word comes from the Latin “sanctus” which means “holy.”  A sanctuary is a holy place, which is to say a place set aside from the ordinary, a place to encounter God, but sanctuary is also a place of refuge and protection.  Perhaps, in the end, the Psalmist expresses both as he writes, “I call on you, my God, for you will answer me; turn your ear to me and hear my prayer.  Show me the wonders of your great love, you who save by your right hand those who take refuge in you from their foes.  Keep me as the apple of your eye; hide me in the shadow of your wings” (Psalm 17:6-8).