Love Without Justice is Baloney

Love Without Justice is Baloney.

Gary Smith’s “Radical Compassion: Finding Christ in the Heart of the Poor” has been an important book for our practice of hospitality at Manna House.      

Smith writes, “Among the poor, the church learns to be indignant at the sight of discarded human beings, and it is taught to passionately challenge systems and structures that produce such human beings.  It is one thing to practice charity, to give a poor person some bread or to treat the same person with respect.  It is quite another thing to challenge a system in which people are hungry, in which some can be rich and many are poor.  As Cardinal Sin of the Philippines once said, ‘Love without justice is baloney.’”

            Manna House supports the Workers Interfaith Network in its efforts for worker justice and a living wage.  Manna House supports the MidSouth Peace and Justice Center and others who are working for a Civilian Law Enforcement Review Board with real power to investigate and discipline police who wrongly use their authority.  Manna House wants housing, good decent housing, for all of its guests who are without homes.  Manna House is against the death penalty, and the criminalization of the poor, and the “New Jim Crow” that uses policing and imprisonment to enforce an ongoing racist economic system.

This morning at Manna House, the conversation in the front yard and on the porch turned to the events in Baltimore, beginning with the death of Freddie Gray who died from injuries sustained while in police custody.  Among his injuries, a severed spinal cord.  His death follows many more of African American men and women at the hands of the police.

“When did ‘Protect and Serve’ become ‘Judge and Execute’?” a guest at Manna House asked.  

            “Cops using too much force” said another, “Helluva of way for that man to die.  People just ain’t gonna accept this anymore.”

            Other guests talked about the times they’ve been harshly treated by the police in Memphis.  Several shared that they have been taken on a “rough ride” in a squad car after being arrested.  Freddie Gray’s injuries may have happened in such a “rough ride” when cops take sharp turns and made sudden hard stops with their police car so that a handcuffed prisoner gets bounced around in the vehicle.   

Another said, “I’d get arrested and in the summer they’d leave me to sit in the back of the car with all the windows up and no air conditioning.  Man, it’d get so hot.  They thought it was funny.”

            “People can only take so much for so long,” said a guest who lived in Baltimore for a while.  “No jobs.  No hope.  And you keep stopping us and arresting us.  Now you’re seeing what happens.  Those people up there; they’re not playing.”

            All of these guests are black.  I’m white.  Today, as has been the case for many years, I’ve learned a great deal from these teachers on the streets.  

            “I’m tired.  We’re tired of all this,” a guest said, “This city, like Baltimore, is brutal. It’s a hard city.  I just want some respect.”

            These voices of these black men and women need to be heard.  White people especially need to shut up and listen.  A change needs to come.  Their heartache and their analysis come right out of Psalm 55.  God is with them.  

“My heart is in anguish within me, the terrors of death have fallen upon me.  Fear and trembling come upon me, and horror overwhelms me.  And I say, ‘O that I had wings like a dove!  I would fly away and be at rest; truly I would flee far away…  I would hurry to find a shelter for myself from the raging wind and tempest. …  for I see violence and strife in the city.  Day and night they go around it on its walls [note this would be the police force keeping security from atop the city walls] and iniquity and trouble are within it; ruin is in its midst; oppression and fraud do not depart from its marketplace. … But I call upon God, and the Lord will save me.  Evening and morning and at noon I utter my complaint and moan, and God will hear my voice.”

"I wait for the Lord"

"I wait for the Lord"

People who are on the streets or are otherwise poor have to wait.  Every morning when I come to Manna House to start the coffee at 6:30a.m., there are people already waiting. 

“How long have you been here?” I ask. 

“I dunno, maybe an hour.” 

After I unlock the gate, they wait for Manna House to open at 8:00a.m.  They wait to get on the “socks and hygiene” list or the “shower” list, and then they wait again for their names to be called. 

“Where am I on the list?” is a frequent question; a polite but persistent way to ask, “How long do I have to wait?”

They wait in the coffee line once we are open.  These are the people, on the streets and poor, who also wait in soup kitchen lines.  They wait for the bus.  They wait to get hired at a labor pool.  They wait in emergency rooms for medical care.  They wait in jail for a court date because they can’t make bail.  They wait in jail hoping for a letter or a visit or maybe for someone to put money on their “book” (few get any of those things).   They wait to get housing to open up for them.  They wait to get into a shelter.  They wait to get into rehab for an addiction.  They wait for social workers and ministers and cops and judges.

They wait.  They keep vigil.  They watch.

Spend a night on the streets.  The darkness seems to last so long one begins to wonder if day will ever come.  When will the dawn begin to break?  The temperature drops throughout the night, and it is coldest just before first light.  In addition to everything else for which they wait, they wait for the sun to rise.

Some guests at Manna House wait better than others.  “I just can’t wait any longer” says one, and off he goes before his name is called.  Another says, “I can wait.  Where else do I have to go?”  Some wait by reading a book or the newspaper.  Some wait by playing Scrabble. Some wait by sleeping quietly on the couch in the midst of the noise of a busy morning.  A person has to be deeply tired to be able to sleep in all the commotion.

Sometimes a guest asks a volunteer working the list to enter into the waiting, to share the waiting, “Can you wait for me until I get back?”  Or, "I just got a cup of coffee.  Can you wait while I put in cream and sugar?"

We have been invited into waiting in a more difficult way lately.  We wait these days for a beloved guest to show back up at Manna House.  Where is he?  We don’t know.  We wait.  Two other guests, that we know, are in prison.  For how long?  They don’t know, and so they wait.  And since they don’t know, neither do we, and so we wait.

Waiting isn’t easy.  Our guests face waiting for so much.  We seek to serve them in ways that respect that they have waited, and in ways that do not make the waiting worse. 

And maybe, too, I can learn from our guests about how to wait in ways that are patient but not passive, hopeful and not merely resigned.  There is a lot to ruminate on in considering how to wait faithfully. How might I enter into waiting as a spiritual discipline that might even challenge the systems that make people on the streets and people who are poor wait?  How might I wait with my whole being for the Lord and for a different world in which there is justice and not all this infernal waiting?

Jesus chastised his disciples for falling asleep in the Garden of Gethsemane, “So, you could not keep watch with Me for one hour? Keep watching and praying that you may not enter into temptation; the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.” (Matthew 26:40-41).

            The Psalmist wrote, “I wait for the Lord, my whole being waits, and in God’s word I put my hope. I wait for the Lord, more than watchmen wait for the morning, more than watchmen wait for the morning.”

"This is My Truth"

“This is My Truth”

Manna House is a place where we come to listen and to be heard, to share stories and our lives.  Some days the stories run between deep sorrow and deep joy.

Al came by today.  I hadn’t seen him for quite a while.  I wondered where he had been.

“I’ve been in rehab,” he said, “sober now for eight months.”

I noticed his eyes were starting to water, and he sniffled a little bit as he talked.  Al isn’t a softie.  I certainly would never expect him to get emotional, and why was he starting to cry anyway?

“You remember Howard?”

“Sure I do, he was quite the character.”

“Well, when he died, I was lost.  I didn’t know what to do.  I just knew I didn’t want to die on the streets.  But I kept drinking.”

I just kept listening.

“You know I’d be dead without the love I got at Manna House.  You guys loved me so much I started loving myself.  I got into rehab.”

“Thank you Al,” I said, and I reached out to shake his hand as my eyes started to water a little too.  “I’m so very happy you’re sober and living.”

Phil told me he was newly homeless.

“I was living in my car.  Then one day another car ran into me.  I woke up in the Med.  I spent a few days there and then they released me to the streets Monday.  So here I am.  No car.  No place to live.  I never thought I’d be homeless, but here I am down on my luck.”

It is not so easy to find work in this economy, and a minimum wage job won’t get you off the street.  I was wearing my Workers Interfaith Network t-shirt, “Fight Poverty, Pass the Living Wage.”

Phil continued, “My Grandpa gave me some advice, ‘Treat people well on the way up because you never know when you might need help on the way down.’  I’m a college graduate.  I’ve had good jobs.  But I was laid off and then divorced and I only had my car, but now after the accident that’s gone too.”

Mark interrupted us, “Hey Pete, what’s the Word for today?  I need the Word for today”

Phil said he would also like to hear the Word.

So, I read, “Live by the Spirit… the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self control”(Galatians 5:16, 22-23).

“That’s a good one,” said Phil, “I always try to live by those.  I think my Grandpa did too.”

Tommy wanted to sing today.  He didn’t know why except it just seemed like a fine day to sing.  So he sang “My Redeemer Lives.” I thought he said he was going to sing, “I Know that My Redeemer Lives” but instead of that classic it was a simple praise hymn.   His voice was clear, and he slowly made his way through the song that he made much more solemn and significant in his struggles with alcoholism and mental illness and being on the streets.  

“I know He rescued my soul… 

My shame, He’s taken away.

My pain, He’s healed in His name.”

“You know,” he said when he was finished singing, “This is my truth.”

Holy Names

Holy Names

Sometimes I think she comes each morning to Manna House just to hear her name.  She never needs much in the clothing room, and she never gets a shower and a change of clothes.  Her greatest delight seems to be when she hears her name. 

She hears her name when she’s greeted at the front door or in the living room.  She hears her name when she’s called for “socks and hygiene.”  And she hears her name one last time as she leaves, “Good bye Miss Linda.  I hope you have a good day.”   

            Each time she hears her name, she smiles.  She never says much; just smiles.  I love her smile.  It slightly creases her face, makes little wrinkles appear around her eyes, and suggests her satisfaction with being known at Manna House.

            Maybe I should have been a doorman at a hotel.  One of my favorite jobs at Manna House is standing at the front gate, and greeting people as they arrive, and wishing them a good day as they leave.  Some arrive ready to smile; others arrive a bit grumpy.  All appreciate being called by name, or at least acknowledged with a “Good morning.”

            Something similar happens when the person working the list calls out guests’ names, when guests are welcomed into the clothing room, or when guests are served coffee.  Greetings are extended and names are said.  Each volunteer also wears a name tag (a piece of masking tape upon which each has written their name).  We get to know our guests by name, and they get to know us by name.

            This is a little practice, this saying of names, but it is a crucial part of our vision at Manna House.  For our guests, we hope to be a place of welcome, where their humanity is recognized, where each person is treated with respect.  We hope to be a place that says to each guest, “Your life matters.”  All of us need welcome, recognition, respect.  All of us need our lives to count for something.  Poverty and homelessness conspire to deny human dignity, to deny respect.  Poverty and homelessness proclaim, “You are worthless and unwanted.  You aren’t a name; you’re nobody.”  When we say names, we mark each other as holy, as persons made in the image of God.

            I got a letter yesterday from a Manna House guest who is now in prison.  He’s not a name where he is; he’s just a number.  And in the midst of that hell he writes of greeting people by name, “Tell Kathleen, Ben, Ashley, and Caitlen and the rest of the volunteers I said hello and thanks for showing me hospitality."  He asked for prayers, “because the devil is coming at me from every angle there is to imagine.”  The devil, the presence of evil in our lives, denies human dignity, denigrates human beings, and tries to get us to be disgusted with one another.  The devil takes away our names and makes us into replaceable numbers. 

            In John’s Gospel, Mary Magdalene doesn’t recognize the resurrected Jesus until he says her name, “Mary” (John 20:11-16).  Resurrection is practiced when we share our names.  Life is restored when we hear our names.  Miss Linda knows this and keeps coming back to Manna House.  And we who serve there come back for the same reason, to share in this place of holy naming.  

Holy Days and Easter at Manna House in One day

Holy Week and Easter in One Day at Manna House

Holy Thursday at Manna House began with showers. Kalculus, Ben, and Ashley ably served the first two guests that Kathleen called into the clothing room. They set the guests up with fresh clothing, and then the guests were off to the showers. Nearly twenty guests showered on Thursday. John tells the story of how Jesus “got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing and wrapped a towel around his waist. After that he poured water in a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet…. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you” (John 13:1-16). In our Holy Thursday, the meal came after the showers as some folks showed up with sack lunches and then a little bit later some cornbread and soup. It wasn’t exactly bread and wine, but Jesus was definitely present. 
Good Friday came as the morning unfolded. I looked around the front yard, the porch, and the house. The crucifixion of the poor continues. Terry’s glasses are covered with tape holding them together, and one lens is cracked. Eye care is restricted to those who can afford it. Larry, like so many guests, is missing most of his teeth. Dental care is restricted to those who can afford it. Michael and Joe and Rennie along with Sarah and Lana sometimes talk into the air to people who are not there. Pat sits alone, talking about a convoluted plot to by the Russians to take over our minds. Mental health care is restricted to those who can afford it. Joe hurt his back working a few weeks ago. He hasn’t been able to work since. It is still very sore. Health care is restricted to those who can afford it. The police came by a few days ago and arrested a guest. We haven’t seen him since. The criminal justice system is constructed so that there is plenty of room for the poor and plenty of profit for corporate owned “corrections.”
Holy Saturday happened this morning as well. We sit and wait for the resurrection. We sit with death. We watch as guests decline from the wear and tear of the streets and poverty. Mr. Smith is walking more and more slowly and now relies on a crutch. Mr. Lee is more and more incoherent. Miss Lorna showed up drunk and bruised. In sitting with death, we also remember guests who have died. Sarah’s portrait overlooks the living room. Tyler used to sleep on the porch and guard Manna House. Elena used to yell at Kathleen, “Hey Lady!” They and many more have died. We also sit with failure, the failure of our guests (they fail like the rest of us in the same way), and we sit with the failure of ourselves, and our society, to embrace the stranger, welcome the alien, do justice for the poor.
Graciously, Easter Sunday also happened this Thursday. Remember Terry and his glasses? Generous donors and the Southern College of Optometry will make sure he gets at new pair (along with two other guests this past week). Two guests this week got housing and a third is moving ever more closely to having his own place. Mr. King got his phone activated and he has a way to communicate with family and friends now. Kirk had a conversation with a guest in which the guest educated him on Freud, and then they moved on to speak with each other about musical theory, at which point they found speaking in Spanish to be most helpful. We all sang “Happy Birthday” to a guest, and his embarrassed smile was huge. There was a lot of laughter, many stories shared, the sun was warm but not hot, the breeze just right. There were little seeds of the Beloved Community being planted all around on this fine Spring morning. 
Three Holy Days and Easter all in one morning. Thank you God. Alleluia!

A Few Vignettes from Manna House over the Past Week

A Few Vignettes from Manna House over the Past Week

Some vignettes that give a quick glimpse into the myriad forms hospitality takes at Manna House.  

            “Working the List.”

The first act of hospitality we do with guests each morning is “taking the list.”  Around 7:45a.m., guests line up on the front porch, and we take their names for showers or for socks and hygiene.  Whoever is “working the list” calls guests’ names throughout the morning, and then introduces them in the clothing room, where they will be served. 

The person working the list repeatedly hears the question from guests, “Where am I on the list?”  And as new guests arrive they always seek out the person working the list.  The hardest part of working the list is saying “no” to people who arrive after the list is full.   

Each person working the list has a distinctive style of calling the names. Guests enjoy when Kathleen works the list because she has a mother’s voice which is loud and clear.  A guest once told her (perhaps in jest), “I could hear you all the way from Cleveland and Poplar.” (That’s about a half mile away). 

“Meeting Special Needs”

Last Thursday, June came by mid-morning looking for someone who could help a guest of Manna House, and of her organization, Outreach, Housing, and Community. The guest was scheduled for surgery, but the hospital would not do the surgery if he didn’t have someone to pick him up and take him home after the surgery.  One small problem, he doesn’t have a home.  Ashley agreed that she would go to the hospital, pick up the guest, and with Manna House funds (thanks all you generous donors) make sure that the guest had a place to stay for the night.  Ashley reported later that the surgery had gone well, the guest had been picked up, taken out for a meal, and put up for the evening at a local (inexpensive) hotel.

Meanwhile, Kalculus, our volunteer/intern from LeMoyne Owen, quietly guided a guest through the process of getting qualified for housing with Outreach, Housing, and Community.  This particular guest can be quite difficult.  He has a prickly personality combined with his ongoing struggle with mental illness.  Kalculus was patient, understanding, and ultimately successful in guiding the guest through the process.  When the guest was done he came up to me and excitedly shared, “I’m gonna get a place to live!”

I was asked by a guest to help him fill out paper work to apply for food stamps.  He said, “I can’t read, and even if I could I wouldn’t understand all this stuff.”  We found a quiet place on the front porch and went to work together.  He knew the answer to every question on the forms, so it didn’t take too long.  There was a lot of presumption in the questions that people were going to cheat, or be ineligible for other nefarious reasons (like living with someone wanted for a felony). 

“Serving Coffee”

All morning long, coffee is served.  We think it is important to serve the coffee, to greet guests and offer a cup of coffee.  Mondays, Charles, and Inge rotate pouring coffee.  Tuesdays, Chuck is the main server.  Thursdays, Clyde, Martin, and Jenina keep the coffee serving going.  Others join in as needed, but these are the regular baristas.  The coffee servers also make sure that there’s plenty of sugar and creamer available to guests for them to mix into their coffee as they see fit. 

This work of coffee serving allows for a lot of interaction with guests, and when the coffee line slows, there’s plenty of time for sitting and listening to stories.  A key attribute for this aspect of hospitality is “generous ears.”

 “Garbage”

When I was taking out the garbage cans on Thursday, a guest was sitting in a car with a social worker.  He was getting “qualified” for housing.  As part of that process he needed a “letter of homelessness” to certify that he is homeless.  I was asked to write that letter so I asked him for his full name.  Turns out his full name is not even close to the name he’s gone by for the two plus years he’d been coming to Manna House.  I asked him why, and he smiled a bit sheepishly as he gave me an answer I’ve heard before, “I wasn’t sure I could trust you all.”

There is a whole history of abusive poverty pimps behind that statement.  I’ve been asked if offering hospitality is dangerous, after all, you’re with “those people” who are on the streets.  What is rarely considered is the danger for those who are in need of hospitality.  They have to rely on others for basic human needs.  Bad food, unsafe shelter, surly attitudes from those serving, and sexual coercion for “special favors,” are just a few ways our guests are treated like garbage by those doing “charity.” 

I hope we do better as we seek to follow three interrelated rules of hospitality. The first rule of hospitality: Be respectful of the dignity of the guests for they are made in the image of God (Genesis 1:26-27).  The second rule, “Welcome one another just as Christ has welcomed you” (Romans 15:7).  The third rule, “Whatever you do to the least of these you do unto me” (Matthew 25:31-46).