Sanctuary

The streets are a violent place.  I was reminded of this again this weekend as I heard the news of a guest who was involved in a fight and now lies in intensive care at the Med.  We prayed for him as we opened today, and we prayed again for another guest, who is still in a coma from a separate violent incident. 

Over the years we have seen guests arrive sometimes with black eyes, or stitched up cuts, and even occasionally a shirt still bloodied from a fight.  Guests get jumped, beat up, robbed, harassed verbally and physically, and sometimes they get into fights themselves.  We have lost guests over the years to murder on the streets. 

There have even been a few (very few) mornings at Manna House when harsh words, fighting words, got exchanged, and pushes and shoves or worse erupted.  And when that happens we shut down for the day.

            This morning, however, like most mornings at Manna House, was peaceful.  The cooler weather, the slight wind blowing through the shady backyard, and the feeling of sanctuary we work with our guests to create, all conspired to keep the violence of the streets far away.

             That feeling of sanctuary comes in part from the physical separation of the backyard at Manna House from the streets.  As you walk along the brick path from the sidewalk into the backyard, the ten or fifteen yards you traverse takes you from one world into another.  The noise of traffic is replaced by the melody of birds and the breeze through the trees.  Those same trees give shade that provides a cool contrast with the harsh sun on the streets.  The brightly painted picnic tables, back wall and porch of Manna House stand in contrast with the grey sidewalks and black asphalt out front.  It is a different world.

            Sanctuary also comes from the respect we offer our guests as we share hospitality.  We learn people’s names and stories.  We don’t post rules, but we do share expectations and information.  We listen for guests to make choices about the clothing they want before they head into shower, and to make choices about the hygiene items they want if they are on the “socks and hygiene” list.  We pour coffee for each guest who wants a cup.  We keep the creamer and sugar table clean and looking good.  None of this is very dramatic, but these are our consistent gestures of respect.

Our guests offer their own gestures of respect that also help to create sanctuary at Manna House.  Our guests offer us “good mornings,” handshakes or hugs and smiles, and conversation, and good natured checkers’ games.  Our guests leave out on the streets any defensiveness, mistrust, anger, or short temper they might have.  Kathleen says “our guests bring us their best” and they do, and we are grateful. 

This isn’t to say neither of us fails or our worst never emerges.  As volunteers sometimes we are too quick to judge and say “no” or we get short with a guest who is a bit rough around the edges.  And guests can sometimes bring a sourness or sullenness that isn’t helpful.  But most of the time most of us, volunteer and guest alike, give our best to try and make sure those things don’t happen. 

The result is sanctuary, a place of welcome and respite, a place where guests feel safe enough to fall asleep on chairs or couches, where volunteers bring their young children, where we look out for each other and keep the violence of the streets and the world away.

            This sanctuary is a fragile thing.  It needs careful attention and cultivation by all of us each day.  We can’t take it for granted as our failures remind us how quickly it can evaporate.  We can cherish it, acknowledge it, and give thanks for it.  And we can offer it to ourselves and to the world as an alternative to the violence of the streets and the violence in our hearts and in our world.   

            It doesn’t seem like much in the face of so much violence.  And maybe it isn’t much.  But somehow the kingdom of God is in a mustard seed, and peace may begin as we offer each other sanctuary, in a backyard like Manna House, on a border where children are crossing, in a house where Israeli and Palestinian come together to break bread.  We have to start somewhere.

The Feast of Mary Magdalene and Women's Showers at Manna House

Today is the Feast of St. Mary Magdalene, faithful companion and disciple of Jesus even to the foot of the cross, first to see the resurrected Jesus, apostle to the apostles.  It was also “women’s shower day” at Manna House, as it is every Tuesday morning.  There is much to ponder in the coming together of this feast day and women’s shower day.
Early on, male interpreters of the New Testament identified Mary Magdalene as a prostitute, the one who washed Jesus’ feet with her tears.  They did this with no textual support, but rather with their patriarchal division of women into three groups:  virgins, mothers, or whores.  An independent woman, like Mary Magdalene, apparently didn’t fit the categories of virgin or mother, so the male interpreters forced her into the whore category, even if “reformed” as a penitent sinner.  The Scripture itself is clear that she was one of the women who provided for Jesus and his disciples out of their resources (Luke 8:3).
On women’s shower day, men are not allowed to come into the “clothing room” where the women are choosing clothing that they will change into after their showers.  So, instead of the usual “socks and hygiene” we simply pass out “socks and soap” to all of our guests while they relax in the backyard.  This way the women not only have more privacy, but as we have found, they are also free from any influence from a dominating man as they choose their clothes.
Mary Magdalene was a person who knew suffering.  She was identified as one “from whom seven demons had gone out” (Luke 8:2), an indication of possible physical and/or mental illness.   In John’s Gospel and in Matthew’s Gospel, Mary Magdalene stood at the foot of the cross.  Unlike the male disciples, she did not abandon Jesus as he was condemned and executed.  She was also the first person to see the resurrected Jesus.  She is the first witness to and preacher of the resurrection!
Women on the streets face the results of patriarchy in violence, oppression, and exploitation.  Rape, prostitution, and other forms of violence against women are common enough for those women who find themselves homeless (and all too often such violence was the precipitating event that led to homelessness).   And along with such violence, there are a number of the women guests who come who have suffered or continue to suffer from mental or physical illness.
The women who come for showers at Manna House each Tuesday have definitely known suffering.  They are often the most vulnerable people we serve all week.  This vulnerability, however, should not be taken to mean that they are not powerful women.  They are resilient and they are survivors.  They continue on in the face of tremendous odds against them.
The women who shower at Manna House have been to the cross; they have suffered from the sins of patriarchy, the sins of a society that does not value women as much as men.  Yet, their spirit is unbroken.  To listen in on their conversations as they choose clothing and prepare for their showers is to know their dignity, their refusal to be defined by the injustices and harms in their lives.  When they emerge with fresh clothes, they stand with their dignity affirmed and more clearly visible.  They witness to resurrection.  Alleluia!!

Women’s Work, Hospitality, and Getting Saved

Women’s Work, Hospitality, and Getting Saved

I’ve often noticed that at Manna House most of the volunteers are women.  There have been some mornings when the only male in the circle at the beginning of the day was me, though more typically there are one or two more.  Meanwhile, there are six or seven women.

            I’ve wondered about this gender distribution at Manna House on more than one occasion.  There are probably a number of explanations for it, but one that I think has some truth is that hospitality is considered women’s work, and therefore not valued by many men.

            What does the work of hospitality entail?  Making and serving coffee.  Helping people pick out clothes.  Doing laundry.  Cleaning showers and toilets.  Wiping up spills.  Sweeping and mopping.  It is all considered women’s work.

            Here’s Jesus describing how we’ll meet him, “for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me” (Matthew 25:25-26).  Women’s work.

            A volunteer (male) asked today, “Why do you think it is that churches find it so much more appealing to save souls, to follow the ‘Great Commission of Jesus’ to go and baptize all nations (Matthew 28:16-20) than to serve the poor, with whom Jesus identified (Matthew 25:31-46)?”  He and a few other volunteers (both male and female) shared that they’ve heard ministers (male) brag to each other about how many souls they’ve saved.

            Maybe a partial answer to his question is that a patriarchal church finds saving souls more appealing than doing the women’s work of serving the poor.

            Maybe another partial answer is that saving souls keeps a hierarchical and patriarchal order safely intact.  We who are saved (those male ministers) reach down to the “unsaved” and give them a hand up (not a hand out). 

Meanwhile, Christian hospitality insists that the poor who come for hospitality save those of us who are offering hospitality.  Christ comes to us in the stranger’s guise.  The poor are not the objects of our saving efforts; they are rather the very means to our salvation.  They are the very gracious presence of Christ in our lives.

            This kind of reversal is quite discomforting.  It knocks all of us out of controlling who gets “saved” and instead makes our salvation dependent upon a group of people who are despised, feared, even hated.

            Imagine, our salvation depends upon how we treat people experiencing homelessness.  Our salvation depends upon how we treat those children coming across the border into Texas.  And just to be clear, this isn’t “works righteousness.”  We aren’t saving ourselves through our good works.  No, we’re being saved by the gracious presence of God in those who are on the streets and those who are coming across the U.S. border.

            Goodness gracious!  God sure likes to mess with those settled hierarchical and patriarchal notions of getting people saved.  We’re saved in the midst of women’s work.  We’re saved in the midst of serving the poor.  We’re not saved (and we don’t save others) through our piety and our saying “Jesus is Lord.” 

Of course we all should have known this.  It is in the Bible after all. Jesus said it, “Whatever you do unto the least of these you do unto me” (Matthew 25:40).  And, Jesus even said, “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), a will which includes sharing bread and reconciliation (Matthew 6:9-12).  The gracious, saved life, includes, Paul said, extending hospitality to strangers (Romans 12:13).  Women’s work.

Ordinary Time, Ordinary Grace

Ordinary Time, Ordinary Grace

Manna House is slowing getting back to the ordinary days of offering hospitality.  For the past three weeks we’ve had the Catholic Heart Work Camp and then two different classes from Memphis Theological Seminary come to help with the offering of hospitality.  Though there is another group here this week from Martin, TN, they are a bit smaller and next week, no groups!

            For those of you who are in a “liturgical church” it just so happens that this past Sunday was the first Sunday in “ordinary time” since Lent began back on March 5^th.   The Sundays of Lent passed into Holy Week and Easter Sunday.  The Easter season passed into the Sundays celebrating Pentecost, Corpus Christi, Trinity Sunday, and finally the Feasts of St. Peter and Paul. 

            So, in both the Church and at Manna House, we’re back to “ordinary time.”  In the Church, liturgists will tell you that “ordinary” does not mean “usual or average” but rather “not seasonal.”  But I think they are kidding.  Instead of the big feasts or seasons we get the ordinary Gospel stories.  I call these stories, “Jesus for the long haul.”  Sure, there’s a miracle or two, but they are pretty much what you’d expect from Jesus.  The emphasis is more on Jesus teaching through his words and deeds what it means to be his disciples.  Nothing too spectacular happens; Jesus and his disciples just go about the ordinary grace of living out the Beloved Community.

            And that’s the kind of ordinary grace surfacing again at Manna House:  practicing hospitality for the long haul.  God’s gracious presence is seen in the ordinary gifts we share with each other day in and day out as we offer each other hospitality.  We experience God in the simple clasp of hands in our opening prayer, the routines of making and serving coffee, offering showers, the usual Mondays and Thursdays of “socks and hygiene” and Tuesday’s “socks and soap,” haircuts on Thursdays (and occasionally Mondays), writing referrals, doing laundry, sweeping floors, cleaning showers and bathrooms, and taking out the trash.  It isn’t flashy; its hospitality.

            I like both ordinary time and the seasons of special celebration.  I like the liturgical rhythm that alternates between special seasons and ordinary time.  There are times of intensity and times to embrace the daily realities of faith.  There are peak experiences and there is the ongoing steady journey.  There’s conversion and then the living out of the commitment.  God is present in both.

            I saw, or rather heard, today’s “ordinary grace” as I was folding laundry.  Tuesday is women’s shower day, and three young female volunteers, the oldest 16 and the youngest 12 were helping a woman get her clothes picked out before she headed into the shower.  I could hear their conversation as I worked in the laundry room.  They went back and forth on both styles and sizes on pants, a shirt, and undergarments, trying to find the right combination.  As I listened, I could hear the guest carefully considering her options and the young women carefully responding.  Both guest and hosts were very patient with each other.  Occasionally they laughed about a size proposed or a style. Really, they seemed to be enjoying the whole process. The guest gave heartfelt thanks as she finished and headed into the shower room.

            I thought about our “word for the day” which I had shared earlier with a few guests who had asked, and it seemed just right for this ordinary grace.  “Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your graciousness be known to everyone. The Lord is near.  Don’t worry about anything, but in everything, through prayer and petition with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God.  And the peace of God, which surpasses every thought, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:4-7).

Why MANNA House?

Over the years, our guests have come to call Manna House, “THE Manna House.” And a few days ago, a friend of mine asked me, “What is the deep spiritual and moral meaning of the word ‘manna’ in Manna House?” 
He rightly assumed our use of the word “manna” is derived from Exodus 16, the wonderful story of the Israelites being fed by God on their journey from slavery in Egypt to the Promised Land. Ched Myers, an activist biblical scholar and teacher, has written about God’s economy reflected in the story of the manna, and it is God’s economy that we seek to share in our offering of hospitality at Manna House. This economy is also evident in the Gospel stories of Jesus feeding the 4,000 and the 5,000.
Simply put, in God’s economy, God the Creator creates a world which is good, in which there is enough for everybody, if we share, and do not hoard. God provides manna in the desert for the Israelites to eat, with the clear instructions to not gather more than what they needed, and to not store any. When some gathered more than they needed, they found the measure they had gathered only equaled what they should have gathered, and when others tried to hoard, they found that it had gone rotten.
In the Gospel stories, the disciples do not think there is enough food to feed the crowds of people. But Jesus, trusting in God, asks that they present what they have, blesses it, and then instructs them to share. Lo and behold, there is more than enough for everybody!
Both hospitality and justice depend upon our trusting that God will provide enough for all, and our commitment to share rather than to hoard. At Manna House, we have many stories of days when we were about to open without enough shoes, or pants, or socks, or underwear for our guests. On each of those days, God did provide. People arrived with donations, living out their trust that God would provide, and so they gave instead of hoarding.
When we fear that we don’t have enough, we are susceptible to the temptation to hoard. I’ve seen a guest share socks with a guest who came too late to get on the list for “socks and hygiene.” I’ve seen a guest arrive barefoot because he shared his shoes with another person on the streets. He trusted that he could then get shoes at Manna House; which he did. Our guests are quite good at living in God’s economy of sharing. They look out for each other, making sure people have enough to survive. They trust in God.
The fear of “illegal aliens” has a lot to do with the fear of scarcity. We don’t have enough for all of “those people.” The fear of giving money to a panhandler has a lot to do with the fear of scarcity. We don’t have enough to give to whoever asks. The fear of the poor has a lot to do with the fear of scarcity. We don’t have enough to take care of everybody. But scarcity is a heresy in the face of God who creates abundance. We create scarcity as we hoard out of fear.
Fear of scarcity (and perhaps fear of robbers still being about) made the priest and the Levite pass by the man on the road who had been robbed. It was the Good Samaritan who trusted in God and shared. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., saw the social justice implications in this story, “On the one hand we are called to play the good Samaritan on life's roadside; but that will be only an initial act. One day we must come to see that the whole Jericho road must be transformed so that men and women will not be constantly beaten and robbed as they make their journey on life's highway. True compassion is more than flinging a coin to a beggar; it is not haphazard and superficial. It comes to see that an edifice which produces beggars needs restructuring.”
When the Israelites entered the Promised Land the manna was no more. But they were to ensure that everyone had enough through the practice of justice. God’s law was to care for the poor through redistribution of goods. The prophets enjoined the same, as Zechariah said, “Thus says the Lord of hosts, Render true judgments, show kindness and mercy each to his brother and sister, do not oppress the widow, the orphan, the sojourner, or the poor; and let none of you devise evil against his brother or sister in your heart” (Zechariah 7:10). This was Jesus’ clear teaching over and over again as well, “Whatever you do to the least of these you do unto me” (Mt 25:31-46).
God’s economy teaches us to not only trust in God, but to trust in each other. There is no need to hoard if we believe God provides, and if we believe others will share. We are called at Manna House to live this alternative reality, that God does provide and that others will provide. So we seek to practice compassion in our hospitality with “the least of these.” We redistribute to those who are need, and we depend upon donations from people who are committed to sharing. We also practice compassion as we learn about the structural causes of homelessness, and so agitate for the justice of housing, food, medical care, and an economy that pays a living wage.
Calling where we do all of this “Manna House” reminds us again and again that everything we do depends upon the abundance of God, an abundance we can trust.

Waiting in Lines

Guests at Manna House are always waiting when I arrive in the morning to unlock the gate.  I’m there to start the coffee.  They are waiting so that they can be first in line, or nearly so.  Montrell is the most faithful of these early morning “waiters.”  He is there almost every morning, and I think I have only arrived before him once or twice.

There is a lot of waiting in the Bible, and there is a lot of waiting in the lives of our guests.  Waiting requires hope.  Psalm 33, “Our soul is waiting for the Lord.  The Lord is our help and our shield.  In God do our hearts find joy.  We trust in God’s holy name.  May your love be upon us O Lord, as we place all our hope in you.”

            On the mornings I start the coffee, I usually get to Manna House around 6:40a.m. The guests who are already there are joined by others and they will form a line and keeping waiting until around 7:45a.m.  That’s the time when some of us volunteers will come out of the house to “take the list” for the day.  

Whoever will “work the list” that morning will write in a notebook the names of the guests who are signing up either for a shower or for “socks and hygiene.”  Imagine waiting an hour or more just to get on a list!  Once we open, guests will wait in the backyard for their names to be called.  From time to time the person “working the list” will be asked by a guest, “Where am I on the list?” 

            As the morning at Manna House goes forward, guests often have to wait to use the bathroom.  With the amount of coffee that is consumed, it is no surprise that the bathroom is needed early and often.   

            Away from Manna House, guests wait in line to enter soup kitchens and get a meal.  Guests wait in line to get into a night shelter.  Guests wait in line at the Social Security Office.  Guests wait at the Unemployment Office.  Guests wait in lines when there is an “employment fair.”  Guests wait in line at labor pools, hoping for a job. Guests “take a number” and wait at emergency rooms or at the pharmacy at the Med.  Guests even wait at jail.  There is a lot of waiting there; it takes five or six hours to get processed into the jail.  And, of course, they also wait to get out.  Waiting in all of these places can be a time of frustration or a time of hope. 

Sometimes it might be a bit of both.  The Book of Revelation describes the challenges disciples of Jesus faced in the Roman Empire (and we face in the U.S. Empire), and several times it urges endurance, “Here is a call for the endurance of the holy ones, those who keep the commandments of God and hold fast to the faith of Jesus” (Rev 14:12, see also Rev 1:9, 2:2, 19, 3:10, 13:10).  Paul and the early church like this  “endurance” word too, as he writes in his letter to the Romans that “endurance produces character, and character produces hope” (Romans 5:4, see also 2 Corinthians 6:4, Colossians 1:11, and Hebrews 10:36). 

For Revelation and for Paul, this endurance is sustained by an apocalyptic hope, not in the sense of awaiting the destruction of all, but in the sense of having a better world in view, in which we see “a new heaven and a new earth… the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God” (Rev 21:1-2).  In this apocalyptic hope we wait for that time when God will dwell among us, and God “will wipe every tear from [our] eyes.  Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more” (Rev 21:3-4).  This is the hope of the Beloved Community in which there will be no lines, and no waiting.

            We get a little taste of this Beloved Community each morning at Manna House as that first line our guests wait in to get on the list is transformed into our circle for prayer.  The line is no more as we open Manna House and we gather together to hold hands, guests and volunteers alike.  We welcome each other as we face each other.  God’s holy presence is felt as we reach out our hands to touch one another and be touched. God’s holy presence is felt in the breeze that reminds us of the Holy Spirit coming close to enliven us. 

Our prayer in this circle is outside the lines.  We envision and wait for a world in which everyone is housed, has health care, meaningful work with a living wage, food that is nourishing, and each person’s dignity is affirmed.  No more racism.  No more war.  No more poverty.  No more death penalty.  Meanwhile, we ask God to bless our coffee and make it hot, bless our sugar and make it sweet, and bless the creamer that it may take all life’s bitterness away.  “We trust in God’s holy name.  May your love be upon us O Lord, as we place all our hope in you.”

Aron Guest of Manna House: Presente!

“When all the congregation saw that Aaron had died, all the house of Israel wept for Aaron thirty days” (Numbers 20:29).

We received word today that Aron died. He was a very quiet man with a shy smile. He never said much, though he did offer once that he was from Memphis. He wasn’t a daily guest at Manna House, but he came often enough that those of us who volunteer every day or most days, came to know him.
Aron pushed a shopping cart in which he carried both his possessions and his various finds. To earn a few bucks, Aron would take what he had found either to the recycling center or to the pawnshop.
Aron walked with a significant limp, with one foot curled in so far that it almost dragged. I’m not sure what had happened. He mentioned an accident, but he wasn’t too clear about it.
The first time he came to Manna House he was looking for some shoes. His old shoes were so completely worn down that he had gone through the outer sole and even the next layer of cushioning. The shoe for his curled in foot rolled decidedly to the outside, and its side was scraped up by the way Aron walked. We got him a new pair of shoes. His pattern became that about every three months or so, he would come by for a replacement pair.
This was done outside of “regular channels” because Aron usually arrived too late to get on either the shower list or the “socks and hygiene” list which are the usual ways to get shoes. In fact, I don’t think Aron ever came for a shower at Manna House, and he rarely got on the “socks and hygiene” list. Other than the occasional pair of shoes, his typical request was simply for a pair of socks. In the winter he might ask for a hat or a pair of gloves.
Since we have a Moses at Manna House, I liked to kid Aron that his brother Moses was had already arrived. Whenever I’d say this, Aron would flash his smile and chuckle softly.
Aron never hung around much. After getting his socks, he’d be on his way, pushing his cart. I looked for a picture of Aron but couldn’t find one. This just deepens my grief over Aron’s death.
I don’t want his death to go unmarked. In the hustle and bustle of Manna House today, a woman I did not recognize shared with me the news of Aron’s passing. At first I thought she had said “A-Rod” and I wasn’t sure who she was talking about. She did promise to return with news of the funeral arrangements. We prayed briefly and I shared my sorrow with her about his death. We loved you Aron and you will be missed.