High Cotton

High Cotton

Robert Cotton has died. I called him Robert “High” Cotton. You probably know the phrase “being in high cotton.” It means doing well, flourishing. You might not know (I certainly did not) that the term originated in the pre-Civil War South. “High cotton” meant the crops were good and so were the prices. “High cotton” likely did not mean much to those who actually did the backbreaking work of planting, weeding, and harvesting the cotton. Certainly the slaves who worked the cotton fields never enjoyed the fruits of “high cotton.”

                Robert was a descendent of slaves. He endured another type of slavery. He had worked hard in his life and yet was on the streets for many years. He experienced the multiple indignities of being Black and poor and no place to call “home.” He never had much in the way of “high cotton.” We talked one day about “high cotton.” He said he spent most of his life in “low cotton.” He liked being called “high cotton” though, because he said, “If I’m ‘high cotton’ I must be pretty good.”

                Robert often rode his bike to Manna House. He was one of the regular bike riders with a few other guests, including Reggie a good friend. Robert would trick his bike out so that it was quite fancy looking, a “high cotton” kind of bike.   

                Robert died alone in his boarding house room. He had a heart attack, Reggie said. “They found him on his knees, like he was praying.” So far no family has been found, though Reggie continues to look.

                I believe Robert is in extremely high cotton now; a place called “heaven.” The high cotton there is not the result of slavery and Jim Crow, new and old, but of Gospel liberation. It is the high cotton of the Gospel.

                Yesterday was Ash Wednesday. “Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.” For years I have heard that statement as the priest put ashes on my forehead. These days I sometimes hear the priest say “Repent and believe in the Gospel.” Both statements are fine.

                The first is a humbling phrase. It is a reminder of our shared mortality, and this should spur us to compassion and justice as we are all in this brief life together. Even those in high cotton come from the earth and return to the earth.  

                The second, “Repent and believe in the Gospel” is also a call to compassion and justice. Out in the cotton fields there was a song the slaves sang, “Everybody talkin’ ‘bout heav’n that ain’t goin’ there.” The slaves knew the truth of the Gospel “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven” (Matthew 7:21-23). Or as the song says, “Well I read about the streets of gold, And I read about the throne, Not everybody callin' ‘Lord, Lord,’ Is gonna see that heavenly home.”

                The Gospel of Jesus announces a different order than the order of racism and slavery that produced the phrase “high cotton.” This different order of the Gospel, the “Kingdom of God,” means no slaves, no restriction of high cotton to the wealthiest. This different order demands reparations so that justice can be restored. This different order of the Gospel brings good news to the poor, release to the captives, sight to the blind, freedom for the oppressed and jubilee—the year of the Lord’s favor in which all debts are forgiven and land is redistributed (Luke 4:18-19). High cotton for all. Robert “High” Cotton has entered into that promise. Those who take the fruits of high cotton off the backs of slaves need to repent and believe in the Gospel if they hope to share in that promise.

                “Repent and believe in the Gospel.” We can work for the Kingdom or against it. Ash Wednesday reminds us to make the choice for the Kingdom while we still have time. “High cotton come on earth as it is in heaven.” Robert “High” Cotton rest in peace.

The Laundry Teaches

The Laundry Teaches

We cannot know Jesus without going to those who are in poverty. He himself said so (Matthew 25:31-46). I reached into the large black garbage can filled with dirty clothes. I was sorting the clothes cast off by guests taking showers at Manna House this morning. Doing the Manna House laundry means touching the clothing of those who are in poverty. The laundry teaches.

            I pulled out what I thought was a sweatshirt. But beneath the sweatshirt were four additional layers of clothing: a t-shirt, a long-sleeve t-shirt, a long sleeve dress shirt, and another t-shirt. Five layers of clothing against the cold; still probably not enough. When you do not have a warm house in which to spend the night (and the day), or even a shelter, you make do with what you can get. Five layers of clothing. The laundry teaches about being cold on the streets.

            I pulled out socks and more socks. None of them were salvageable. The dirt was too deeply ground in and solidified with old sweat. Underwear, the same story. The dirt is engrained into the very fabric. No amount of bleach or soap will get it out. A sign of the perversion of the Gospel is to believe that cleanliness is next to godliness. To believe that those who are dirty are of the devil is to believe the lepers of old were unclean and were rejected by God. Jesus took a different approach. The lepers deserved welcome and healing, not rejection and damnation. Those who rejected the lepers in the name of God were the very ones who were far from God. The laundry teaches about dirt and poverty and about who we reject by our conventional standards but who God embraces.

            I pulled out pants, mostly blue jeans, and a few khakis. They were wrinkled, and in various states of weariness. A few holes here and there. Random stains on some. Mostly just dirty. They tell of sleeping on the ground or in an abandoned building or under a bridge. Psalm 113 comes to mind,

Who is like the Lord our God,
    who is seated on high,
who looks far down
    on the heavens and the earth?
God raises the poor from the dust,
    and lifts the needy from the ash heap,

 to make them sit with princes,
    with the princes of God’s people.

The laundry teaches about those in the dust and on the ash heap and about where God intends them to be contrary to where society has cast them.

            I pulled out towels, damp from wiping dry freshly showered bodies. I remember a Gospel story (John 13:1-17). Jesus “got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him.” When Jesus came to Peter, he did not want Jesus to wash his feet. Such a task was reserved for the lowest of the low, for slaves. Jesus would be dishonored by doing such work. Jesus answered Peter, “Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.” What does this mean? What does it mean to be washed by Jesus?

            Jesus himself tells us. “if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you. … If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them.” The laundry teaches about how to experience blessing.

            The laundry teaches, if we are willing to learn.

Loving the Unlovable

Loving the Unlovable

I do not easily love every guest that comes to Manna House. There are a few, in fact, that I would be quite happy if they never came back. Most are easy to love, to welcome, to serve. Some are not. In other words, guests at Manna House are human, and so am I. We all have our rough edges; places where we rub one another the wrong way.

            I love to love those that love me (and laugh at my jokes). Loving those folks is easy. Offering them hospitality is a snap. Jesus however, has a higher bar for being his disciples. “But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet only your brothers and sisters, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same?” (Matthew 5:44-47).

            I struggle with this teaching of Jesus and ask for the grace, the loving presence of God in my life, so I might be able to love those who are not lovable. This gets a bit complicated sometimes. At Manna House, like elsewhere, the unlovable might be more than merely unpleasant, they might also do things that hurt others.

            I think of a guest who flares up in anger and threatens to do violence to another guest for the smallest of bumps in a crowded house. I think of a guest who mocks other guests who are “different,” not meeting certain standards for sexuality or sanity and personal hygiene. How to love the guests who sometimes threaten the very practice of hospitality at Manna House?

            Love does not mean accepting wrong behavior by another person. Did Jesus love King Herod who had John the Baptist killed? Yes. But Jesus also clearly rejected Herod’s execution of John. Did Jesus love Peter who denied him three times? Yes. But Jesus also clearly called Peter to repent. It is a mistaken notion of love to equate it with accepting abuse, injustice, or any wrongdoing.

            So love sometimes involves confrontation, conflict, and challenging another person, all with the purpose of creating a loving (and just) community. This is how God loved King David when God sent the prophet Nathan to confront him about the murder of Bathsheba’s husband, Uriah. This is how God loves each of us when we are called to account for our sin. In Ezekiel we read, “ Say to them, As I live, says the Lord God, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but that the wicked turn from their ways and live; turn back, turn back from your evil ways; for why will you die, O house of Israel?” (Ezekiel 33:11).

            Correction for the sake of conversion and community is loving. Paul points to such love (and more) when he writes, “Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things” (1 Corinthians 13:4-8).

            So, I can ask a guest not to smoke on the front porch because the smoke blows into the house. I can tell a guest that his language is not acceptable because it degrades another guest. I can even ask a guest to leave when her behavior threatens the well-being of another guest. This can all be done in love, with kindness in the words used, without recourse to violence, with continuing respect for the guest being corrected.

            At the same time, love requires that I treat the guests I find difficult to love with as much love and respect as I treat the guests who are easy to love. This is when I especially have to practice patience and kindness, and I have to leave behind arrogance and rudeness and insisting on my own way.

            I fail at this kind of love on a regular basis. Trying to offer hospitality to a cantankerous or sullen or irritating guest is humbling. I have to face my own shortcomings in the practice of love. Maybe that is how God reminds me of how unlovable I am, how I have rough edges, how I fail to love. And maybe that is how God tells me of God’s love for me. God loves even the unloving me. Does not the Bible tell me so?

Stay Woke

Stay Woke

Cleaning the front yard at Manna House, picking up a few stray coffee cups, I came across the latest issue of “Awake!”

            The Jehovah’s Witnesses distribute “Awake!” I do not know how this issue arrived at Manna House. We have had a Jehovah Witness or two occasionally come by to pass out their tracts. Or maybe a guest brought it. Either way, it was now abandoned on a picnic table in the front yard.

            I thumbed through it. I am always curious about things religious. The articles (including one trying to debunk evolution) all pointed to a triumph of Christianity. Funny, I thought, how a magazine called “Awake!” was nearly putting me to sleep. Maybe that was also why it had been discarded. But the title stuck with me, “Awake!”

            I thought of Martin Luther King, Jr. who once gave a talk, “Remaining Awake Through a Great Revolution.” He said, ““One of the great liabilities of history is that all too many people fail to remain awake through great periods of social change. Every society has its protectors of status quo and its fraternities of the indifferent who are notorious for sleeping through revolutions. Today, our very survival depends on our ability to stay awake, to adjust to new ideas, to remain vigilant and to face the challenge of change.”

            Jesus said something similar to his disciples, “Beware, keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come. It is like a man going on a journey, when he leaves home and puts his slaves in charge, each with his work, and commands the doorkeeper to be on the watch. Therefore, keep awake—for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or at dawn, or else he may find you asleep when he comes suddenly. And what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake.” (Mark 13:33-37)

            Black Lives Matter has a saying, “Stay Woke.” The hashtag #StayWoke has been a way to urge people to remain vigilant about social issues, especially those related to police violence and white supremacy. It might be another way to update the old school Public Enemy, “Don’t believe the hype.”

            I thought about the morning at Manna House. An hour or so earlier a few men in bright fluorescent orange vests had come down the street. They were picking up trash. Following them were two men in a white Shelby County truck. The two men picking up trash were prisoners supervised by the men in the truck. A guest said, “The chain gang returns.”

            A guest before had told me about his pending appointment with his probation officer.

“I’ll be heading there soon. If I don’t go, I get fined or go back to jail. I had a job for today, but I can’t go to work because I have to see my probation officer. It’s a catch 22.”

            A Memphis police car went by at one point in the morning. “The occupation force” a guest said.

            A Shelby County Sheriff’s car went by at another time. “They’re out serving warrants” a guest said.

             A long time guest, who we had not seen for quite a while, had come into the house about half way through the morning. “I’ve been in jail,” he said. “A year of jail. Now I’m looking for work. Probably won’t find any, but I’m looking. Can I get some gloves and a hat?”

            There’s a deadly system at work running through these events of the morning. There’s an education to be had if you pay attention and listen to the guests. Things are not as they might seem. William Stringfellow wrote, “In the face of death, live humanly. In the middle of chaos, celebrate the Word. Amidst Babel, speak the truth. Confront noise and verbiage and falsehood of death with the truth and potency of the Word of God.”

             “Awake!” “Stay awake.” “Keep awake.” “Stay woke.” “Don’t believe the hype.”

Our Treasured Guests

Our Treasured Guests  

“I’m most treasured, not ‘most wanted’” a guest said pointing to his photo on the wall at Manna House. Like any home, Manna House has lots of pictures of our “family members,” our guests, up on the walls. The photos span the years we have been open.

                Some of the guests in the photos have died. Semaj. Freddie. Elvis. Harmon. Sarah. Abe. They look into the rooms where they once came for coffee and jokes and conversation. We hope they are enjoying heavenly housing. We enjoyed their presence when they were alive. We still treasure their lives as we share stories about them from their time with us.

                Some of the guests pictured are also gone. We just do not know where. Maybe they are housed. Maybe in jail or prison. Maybe they moved to another part of town, but are still housing deprived. Maybe they have gone to another city. Or, they might have died. Wherever they are, they enriched us and moved on. They, too, have stories we remember that bring a smile even as we worry about where they are now.

                Some of the guests pictured still come to Manna House. Among them some have homes and others do not. June Averyt’s organization, “Outreach, Housing, and Community” can be thanked for getting a number of the guests at Manna House into housing. Housed or not, Manna House remains a gathering place for people in need of some support and some community, a place where they will be welcomed. People come and share their lives, and in that there is the great wealth of human warmth.

                Looking at these photos of our guests the other day, I thought of the story of St. Lawrence. He was a deacon in the church when the Roman Empire still conducted sporadic persecutions. The role of deacon in the early church was distinguished by service of the poor. Deacons were appointed to both the service of the table (corporal works of mercy) and to the service of the word (spiritual works of mercy). Lawrence was a deacon in Rome.

                An imperial official in the city, the prefect, imagining the church to be rich, ordered Lawrence to bring to him all of the church’s wealth. Lawrence asked for three days to complete the task. During those three days he quickly gave away all that the church had to the poor.

                On the third day he returned to the prefect and brought with him a motley crew of poor people, including those who were blind, lame, and I imagine, mentally ill, addicts, prostitutes. Lawrence pointed to these people struggling in poverty and said to the prefect, “Here are the true treasures of the Church.” Then he added, "The Church is truly rich, far richer than your emperor."

                The photos on the wall at Manna House point to the treasure, the richness that are guests bring to us. As Kathleen says, “They bring us their best.” Like Lawrence’s group, they are a motley crew, marked in a variety of ways by what has been denied them: housing, work, health care, friendship, trust, love, hope, basic human compassion and justice. At the same time they are not defined by that denial; rather they persist in their particular personalities. The photos give some hint of those personalities: smiles and frowns, and various poses from arms crossed to arms thrown around each other in a hug.

                Lawrence’s act of defiance led directly to his martyrdom. He was tied on top of an iron griddle over a fire. Spectators hoped he would writhe and wriggle in pain, but Lawrence disappointed them by laying there quietly. Finally he said, "Turn me over, I'm done on this side!” Then shortly before he died he said, “I’m cooked.”

                I think it likely that Lawrence had his sense of humor deepened by his love for and service to the poor. When you face the deprivation a society places on people deemed “failures” or “losers” and then find those very people are really the winners, you can only laugh. Laugh at the powers and principalities who so harshly judge and exclude based upon material possessions. Laugh at the politicians who pander to people afraid of the poor. Laugh at the stupidity of social policies designed to hurt and punish them even more. Laugh at those who claim to be “Christian” and despise the poor.

                “I’m most treasured, not ‘most wanted’.” Indeed, this guest has it right. He is not a criminal because he is poor. He is rather the very treasure to which Jesus pointed to when he said, “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (Matthew 6:19-21). Lawrence’s heart, his treasure was with the poor. My hope is that at Manna House our hearts are too.

Trying to Enjoy the Cold

Trying to Enjoy the Cold

“I’ve been trying to enjoy the cold, but it won’t let me,” said a Manna House guest Monday morning. Nighttime temperatures in the low twenties and daytime highs in the low forties are not the worst temperatures that people deprived of housing will experience this winter. But stay outside for a few hours and see how the cold seeps into your bones.

                Monday night I helped Kathleen get people signed in for Room in the Inn. Three churches offered free shelter to thirty six people. That’s three churches in a city of at least a thousand churches. About a half mile away the Union Mission was jammed with hundreds more seeking shelter. Other shelters were also full.

                After the Room in the Inn churches picked up the fortunate thirty six, five people walked away into the cold night. Unwilling or unable (for a variety of reasons) to go to any of the other shelters, they faced the night’s cold. Even before this, another twenty or so people had left to try their luck with shelters or stay outside.

                Shelter, of course, is not housing. Those of us who are housed might not realize that housing is a matter of life and death. If you live on the streets your death rate is nearly twice as high as those who are housed. And the average age of death for those deprived of housing is around 48 compared with nearly 78 for those who are housed. Without a house not only are people directly exposed to the elements such as the cold of winter and the heat and humidity of summer, they are also exposed to direct, individualized abuse and attack.

                I have been reading a challenging book by Craig Willse, The Value of Homelessness: Managing Surplus Life in the United States. He writes, the truth is that “Housing insecurity and housing deprivation make people sick and make people die,” and “this insecurity and deprivation roll out along entrenched lines of gender, sexual, and racial difference” (Craig Willse, p. 24).

                The majority of those seeking shelter Monday night were African American men. Sixteen women, also mostly African American were also there. Among the African American men was an elderly man, recently released from a mental health facility. He was incoherent, and all of his possessions were in two medium-sized Christmas gift bags. Our society systemically deprives those who struggle with mental illness of housing and then blames the individual, “He’s homeless because he’s mentally ill.”

                Willse further observes, “The systemic nature of housing insecurity is masked by the objectifying work of the term ‘the homeless.’ When we speak of ‘the homeless,’ we mobilize a pathological category that directs attention to an individual, as if living without housing is a personal experience rather than a social phenomenon. Instead, we might talk in terms of ‘housing deprivation.’ This phrase expresses that living without housing is systemically produced and must be understood as the active taking away of shelter, as the social making of house-less lives” (Willse, p. 2).

                I have been meditating on that statement for several days now. I have been putting it into dialogue with Isaiah the prophet. Isaiah warns that if we do not share our bread with the hungry, house those without homes, clothe those who are naked, and recognize our shared humanity with those oppressed, we will be rejected by God, our humanity will shrivel and die, and our society will fall apart (Isaiah 58).

                And, of course Isaiah brings the opposite prophetic promise as well. “If you remove the yoke from among you, the giving of the finger, the speaking of evil, if you offer your food to the hungry and satisfy the needs of the afflicted, then your light shall rise in the darkness, and your gloom will be like the noonday sun. The Lord will guide you continually, and satisfy your needs in parched places… Your ancient ruins will be rebuilt… you shall be called the repairer of the breach, the restorer of streets to live in” (Isaiah 58:10-12).

                As a society we have the resources for everyone to be decently housed. Our military budget is larger than the next eight nations COMBINED. Rev. Earle Fisher shares that “yesterday Powerball sold $323,000 worth of tickets PER MINUTE. They made $29.7 BILLION YESTERDAY ALONE.” We have the resources. Isaiah is clear. In a good society, no one is left out in the cold.  

The Joy of Hospitality

The Joy of Hospitality

Biblically, joy comes with the presence of God. Nehemiah wrote, “the joy of the LORD is your strength” (Neh 8:10) while in the Psalms we read, for “all who take refuge in you [God] rejoice; let them ever sing for joy” (Psalm 5:11). God, says the Psalms “put more joy in my heart” (Psalm 4:7) and in God’s “presence there is fullness of joy” (Psalm 16:11). When God is present, there is joy.

            When we opened Manna House this morning, we prayed with our guests on the front porch. We always hold hands for this opening prayer. This morning the hands of the guests that I held were icy cold. I made the prayer short so people with cold hands could get inside quickly and wrap their hands around a hot cup of coffee. About 500 cups of coffee were served through the course of the morning. “Manna House coffee sure hits the spot!” “This coffee is strong. Thank God.”

                Kathleen worked with a guest and her husband to get them housing. He had been spending most nights outside while she had stayed at various shelters. Thanks to generous donors, Manna House has the resources to cover a few months’ rent. They moved into their new apartment this afternoon. It is one mile from where she works and on a bus line. Now she will be able to keep her job and take care of her husband. He is hoping to find steady work too.

                A guest came out of the shower room to let us know that someone had crapped in one of the showers. I went in to see what needed to be done to clean up. The shower stall with the crap was still occupied. I was surprised. The elderly and frail man in the shower said, “I’m so sorry. I just go. I can’t help it.”

                “Don’t worry about it,” I said, “it’s only crap. I’m glad you came to shower.” Given my sense of smell, the clean-up was not that bad. The man left showered and with clean clothes, smelling fresh.

                Carolyn and Bergen staffed the clothing room, offering “socks and hygiene” and getting guests set up for showers. Hats, gloves, scarves were also given freely.

                 Byron shared the story during our time of reflection at the end of the morning at Manna House. Two guests, one a white male, the other a black woman. Both struggle with mental illness. The man usually has an angry scowl on his face and his hair is disheveled. The woman smells of urine. The zipper on the woman’s coat was not working. The man offered to help. He worked diligently and patiently for about ten minutes. He got the zipper fixed. The woman was able to close her coat against the cold.

                Read a few stories in the Bible about hospitality and a common theme emerges: joy. Abraham and Sarah offer hospitality to three passing strangers (angels disguised as men). Before long Sarah is laughing at the joke these strangers were telling that she and Abraham will have a child when they return a year hence. Turns out, it is better than a joke. Sarah and Abraham have a child in their old age and experience the joyously surprising way God keeps God’s promises. (See Genesis 18).

                A widow and her son are near death from starvation. The widow welcomes Elijah the prophet to share her last meal. Only it is not her last meal. There ends up being enough for her and her son for years to come. And later, when her son takes deathly ill, the prophet heals the son. (See 1 Kings 17). Elisha the prophet is welcomed and he shares the blessings of God’s abundance with a widow who was in poverty. He is welcomed and he heals the only child of the couple that welcomed him. (See 1 Kings 4). In the New Testament, Jesus affirms that in offering hospitality we will welcome him (Matthew 25:31-46), and that those who offer hospitality will enjoy a banquet with God (Luke 14:12-14). Then there is the story of those who welcomed the risen Jesus and shared a meal with him. They find their hearts strangely warmed (and they were not even Methodist) (Luke 24:13-32). In Hebrews we read that in offering hospitality the joy of welcoming angels will be experienced.

                The angels came this morning with cold hands, with struggles for housing, with struggles for health, mental and physical. They witnessed to the injustice of the world. They also brought with them the very presence of God. And when one of the angels asked for the “Word of the Day” we found this passage that speaks of God’s just priorities and a joyous day which is to come:

We give you praise, O God of life; both now and evermore we bless your name.

From east to west, and north to south, from sunrise to sunset may your name be praised.

You, O God are the eternal light. Your glory reaches higher than the heavens.

Who is like you, magnificent in holiness? And yet you live so close within.

You raise the poor from their lowliness; you lift the oppressed from the depths.

You give dignity to their lives, a place of honor with all the faithful.

You renew and strengthen all that lives; you make empty hearts content. (Psalm 113)