There is a Balm in Gilead

“I’m Ready For My Hug Now.”

Valerie [not her actual name] has been coming to Manna House to shower on Tuesdays perhaps only slightly longer than Ann has been coming to volunteer.  So for nearly ten years, almost every Tuesday, Ann has offered Valerie hospitality. 

Valerie has been on and off the streets for many years.  She’s been battered by racism, physical abuse, rape, drugs, alcohol, mental illness, and a myriad of physical problems, including a stroke.  Ann is a Jewish woman who has lived a middle class life, and spent years as a nurse before retiring.

Together, Ann and Valerie select clothing, shoes, and other necessities to replace the dirty clothes Valerie has on.  Then Valerie showers and changes into the “new” clothes. 

After all this, Valerie and Ann work together for a few finishing flourishes, like picking out a scarf or putting on some perfume (or as some guests call it, “smell good”).

I happened into the clothing room on Tuesday morning at the end of this ritual, just in time to hear Valerie say to Ann, “I’m ready for my hug now.”  At which point Ann came around the counter, and they embraced.  Valerie left with a smile, and Ann said, “That’s my favorite part of the morning.”

“Have You Heard This Poem?”

Matt [not his actual name] is always the first at Manna House on Tuesday mornings to get on the shower list for Thursday.  While Matt waits for his name to be called for a shower or socks and hygiene, he’s often got his nose in a book reading.  He groans at my bad jokes and occasionally shares a joke with me, usually one that has a clever twist.  This morning we somehow wandered into talking about favorite authors and literature.  He doesn’t like Charles Dickens or Earnest Hemingway.  He has enjoyed Flannery O’Connor.  Then he asked me, “Have you heard this poem?”  And he proceeded to recite the following from Emily Dickinson,

Some keep the Sabbath going to Church –

I keep it, staying at Home –

With a Bobolink for a Chorister –

And an Orchard, for a Dome –

Some keep the Sabbath in Surplice –

I, just wear my Wings –

And instead of tolling the Bell, for Church,

Our little Sexton – sings.

God preaches, a noted Clergyman –

And the sermon is never long,

So instead of getting to Heaven, at last –

I’m going, all along.

(From: “The Poems of Emily Dickinson,” R. W. Franklin, ed., (Harvard University Press, 1999).

            Hospitality is so much about simple gestures of love and respect.  Greeting people by name, listening to stories, sharing joys and heartbreaks, writing a letter of referral, serving coffee, meeting a few basic human needs; none of these are complicated.  There is a healing that takes place in our guests as we offer this hospitality.  But hospitality is always a two way street.  The love and respect that come from our guests is also healing.   

           The prophet Jeremiah asked, “Is there no balm in Gilead?” (Jer 8:21-22).  In the Christian tradition, the balm in Gilead is God’s healing love, God's Spirit in our lives. An old African American spiritual sings,

“Sometimes I feel discouraged and think my work’s in vain,
But then the Holy Spirit revives my soul again.
There is a balm in Gilead to make the wounded whole;
There is a balm in Gilead to heal the sin sick soul.”

We share that balm of Gilead as we share God’s healing love with each other.  We share with our guests the brokenness of our humanity, just as they share their broken humanity with us.  And, together we turn to each other for a hug, a poem, for moments of loving grace in which we are healed.