Concerning Panhandling

I had some guests in town the other week, so we went out for dinner one night. Afterwards, happy to be in each other's company, we decided to walk to the river, a distance of about 11 blocks. When we got the Chattanooga aquarium, we were immediately approached by a fifty-something, white man with a swollen face wearing dirty jeans and a denim shirt. He asked us for money, and I told him I don't give away money, but that if he needs help he should try the Community Kitchen (which serves three meals a day) and MetMin (a financial emergency room with connections to most other social service providers in town). He was already drunk, and only understood that I wasn't giving him money.

He said he needed water and walked away, but less than a minute later, he approached my college-aged younger brother, who agreed to buy him some food. It was getting on in the evening, and most of the restaurants near the aquarium were closing up. My brother walked off with him to find someplace to eat. After a moment of indecision and checking with the group, I went running after them too. We ended up at Buffalo Wild Wings, sitting on a bench, listening to our new acquaintance drunkenly repeat himself. I would have been sad if I wasn't already angry. Angry because he was drunk. Angry because I felt he had manipulated my younger brother. Angry because I hadn't felt up to buying someone food again. Angry because I personally buy someone a meal at least once a week on top of the meals we provide at Southside Abbey, which I tithe towards, and I was just tired of it all: the addiction, the hopelessness, the manipulation. I was also being selfish of course.

The drunk man's litany included some of the usual causes of homelessness. He had been in prison for fifteen years. He couldn't find a job. He didn't have anyone in the world to look after him. However he would always return to the idea that, whatever the situation, he would "Get 'er done."

The rest of the group caught up, and we started to make our way back to our car. Along the way, we were approached six more times by folks asking for money, most of them black men. One member of our group develops debilitating headaches if they are too active for too long, so we were in a rush to get back. We couldn't give everyone we met the time necessary to suss out their situation and respond accordingly. We talked with folks, but we didn't give anything away, didn't buy any more meals. We just kept walking.

Encountering a panhandler or beggar puts a Christian in an ethical bind. Because of the example and teachings of Christ, we feel ethically obliged to give, and yet most people who work regularly with the homeless population recommend never giving money.  How are we to model the generosity, grace, and abundance of our God when we are told by those with experience and wisdom to not give any money?

We need to know why those who spend their entire working lives helping the homeless don't recommend giving money, and they have multiple reasons. One has to do with the rate of addiction among the homeless population. Unfortunately, a larger percentage of poor folks struggle with drug addiction than the general populace. (For the purpose of brevity, I'm including alcohol under the term "drug addiction"). It is true that all demographics have problems with drug addiction, rich and poor, and we must not demonize the poor as if they are the only people who deal with addiction, but it is also true that a greater percentage of poor people have chronic addictions. Of course, there is not a clean causality between poverty and addiction. Some middle-class folks end up poor because of addiction, some poor folks become addicts to cope with the pressures of being poor. Either way, it's a cycle of destruction that is all too prevalent and tends to keep poor people poor.

What this means is that if you give a panhandler money you are, all too often, just buying them drugs or alcohol. You are enabling their addictions. You are allowing them to continue destroying themselves, and that is not love.

Another reason for not giving money away lies with some basic poverty alleviation theory called the Relief-Rehab-Development spectrum. Basically, if there has just been a catastrophe or disaster (as in, within the last week) then you just help. Examples of disasters might include a house fire, an earthquake, a tsunami, a hurricane, a car accident, or a war. You do whatever you need to do to keep people alive. You give things away for free. You see a need, and you meet a need, as simple as that. You do things to and for people.

However, if it has been more than a few weeks since a catastrophe, then it starts to become inappropriate to do things for people. They aren't stable enough yet to take care of everything for themselves, but they are certainly capable of some things. They have gifts and abilities to offer. To use a medical analogy, they don't need surgery any more, they need physical therapy. They need to start using their gifts and abilities again, but they need some support to do that. This is the rehabilitation phase. A good example of this would be a work program in a refugee camp that pays for work on projects that are beneficial for the community at large. The basic needs of the refugees have to continue to be met, but refugees are not left alone to merely survive. They are asked contribute and they are reimbursed for their contribution. A good rehabilitation program has to strike a difficult balance between relief and development. It might be said you are doing some things for people and some things with people.

At the development end of the spectrum, you never do anything for people, only with people. Development is appropriate when folks are largely stable. They may be poor, but they can take care of themselves. You focus on assets, not needs. Patronizing, top-down, give-away type activities are anathema to development work. Giving away things for free in development work is simply communicating to a poor person that you don't think they can do anything for themselves. It robs them of what little dignity they have been able to muster.

So let's return to panhandling. There is a good chance that the person asking you for money has a serious addiction to drugs or alcohol, and giving them money will only enable that addiction.  But where do homelessness and addiction lie on the relief to development spectrum?  It isn't immediately clear, and so everything immediately gets more difficult. If we see addiction as a disease, then in a sense, it is a catastrophe. However, for folks in Chattanooga, their basic needs are generally met. As we've already mentioned, the Community Kitchen serves three meals a day and has a shelter for families. And that doesn't even take into account other churches and ministries that give food away for free on almost any day of the week. No homeless person will starve to death in Chattanooga in the near future, not unless it is by their own choice. That may seem harsh, but it is true, and the homeless community in Chattanooga will be some of the first people to tell you that.

I believe this puts most people who approach you on the street asking for money in the category  of rehabilitation and development. Buying them a meal or a hotel room won't harm them, but they need to be connected to other resources to actually thrive. They need stable affordable housing. They need mental health and addiction counseling. They need health insurance. They need some means of livelihood. They need a community of people to support them.  They don't need a $10 burger and fries.

So back to that evening, walking through downtown, being accosted for money at least every second block. The variety of tactics panhandlers employ became glaringly apparent. Some simply asked us to buy them food. Others would show us how much money they had, a handful of coins, and then ask us to help them out. Multiple men approached us with bouquets of flowers, offering them to the girls in the group and asking for money in return. One man asked for money, we told him we couldn't, but that we'd be happy to talk, so he walked with us for about six blocks before asking a different person in the group for money.

Of course, there are more tactics than these. The frankness approach openly asks for money for the drugs or alcohol the panhandler actually wants, hoping that the honesty will win folks over. The shoe-shine hustle is common in some cities, where someone talks you into letting them shine your shoes without giving a price, but then demands $20 or so. Asking for money for a bus-ticket is fairly common in Chattanooga: a woman has been raising money at the Walgreens on South Broad for a bus-ticket out of town for over 5 years now. One of my personal favorites is when someone pretends to be an evangelism target, asking for prayer and wanting to know more about God, only to ask for money within the next minute.

They are all tactics, and they all share some commonalities. They are looking to manipulate the target, whether by frankness, by guilt, or by pandering to religious beliefs. Some tactics are more explicitly cons or deceptions, but some are simply tactics for survival, and it can be difficult to tell which is which.

Equally, folks have tactics for dealing with panhandlers. I've employed my fair share of them. One is to avoid eye-contact, cross over to the other side of the street, generally pretend they don't exist. (So much for the Christ in me recognizing the Christ in them). If the pan-handler is still aggressive, you shake your head and keep walking, trying to engage as little as possible. If you stop to listen, the negotiating begins. Basically, how much will you pay to cover the guilt that you are rich while they are poor? They are shaming themselves in front of you, and that makes you feel ashamed. Some people will pay, either to end the situation, or because they genuinely want to help. For the reasons already mentioned, I would argue this is a mistake. It continues the shame of the panhandler, it enables addictions, and it makes the giver complicit in the panhandler's shame and self-destruction.

Some people will take the time to go with the person to a restaurant and buy them a meal, or perhaps to a hotel to buy them a room. That is a good place to start.  It allows a Christian to be generous with their resources and sacrificial with their time, but it also isn't enough. The panhandler needs to be connected to resources, support systems, and communities that push them, hold them accountable, encourage them, and give them opportunities. In Chattanooga, that means recommending the Community Kitchen, MetMin, and Southside Abbey.

However, many homeless folks already know about the Community Kitchen, and they refuse to go there. They may have been banned from being drunk and belligerent in the past. They may not like the food.  They may not like the portions. They may not like having to live by the meal schedule at the Kitchen. They may not like the other homeless people, or have some longstanding conflicts they are trying to avoid. It's hard to know, but sometimes mentioning the kitchen will make a pan-handler extremely angry. Still, if they want to actually get help, then the Kitchen is the place to start. If they don't want to work with the Community Kitchen, then they aren't actually working to change their situation.

MetMin does a lot of homelessness prevention work. They will step in when families are faced with the difficult arithmetic of whether to pay rent or pay the electricity bill. They are limited, because resources are limited, but if there is any possible way to help, or if they know of anyone in town who could help, they will get someone hooked up with the right organizations. MetMin does a good job of bridging the gap from relief work and sending folks on to other organizations who can provide more rehab and development oriented services.

And finally, we have Southside Abbey, a worshipping community made of homeless folks, sudanese refugees, missionary kids, young professionals, and Lutheran friends. We are a church, and we offer what a church offers: prayer, community, and unlikely relationships over a holy meal.  We gather around folks in all the milestones of their lives, whether that be births, baptisms, marriages, moving into new houses, graduations, or funerals. We are a community of people, so we aren't perfect, but we keep showing up, keep praying, and keep eating food together. When we say "everyone is welcome" at Southside Abbey, we truly mean it.

So what are we to do as Christians when we are faced with panhandlers or beggars, we who are told to be as cunning as serpents and as peaceful as doves? First of all, we must act. The parable of the sheep and the goats makes that clear. That other night walking through downtown, we sinned six out of the seven times we encountered Christ by walking past those men, some of whom were just asking for money, but some of whom were asking for help. We were the pharisees in the parable of the Good Samaritan, to worried about our own agenda's to stop and help. However, we must never simply give money either. It is good and right to buy meals, to buy hotel rooms in cold weather, to treat people kindly, to listen carefully to their stories. But we must not be blind with our charity, nor should we be naive about the manipulation and deception inherent in many of these interactions. We must be knowledgeable about what other churches and organizations are doing in our city. We are one body. We work together.

Lord help us to help well. Make us cunning as serpents and peaceful as doves. Give us the grace to be generous, and the wisdom to keep from enabling. Make us kind. Make us strong. Teach us to be like Christ.

Moments of Grace

Southside Abbey is a small church. We can't offer much in the way of pomp and spectacle. (Unless by spectacle you mean chaos). We rent our space, and so we worship around art that is not necessarily religious. The nightmarish teddy-bear with claws comes to mind as a prime example. It can be a bit noisy, and yet, even with the noise, the artistic oddities, and the unpredictable people, there are moments of striking beauty and grace. In fact, these moments are essential to Southside Abbey. They are our ministry. A bunch of strange people get together and there are little hints that life could be another way. Maybe God is Love. Maybe Jesus is the Lord of the Cosmos. Maybe we should actually do what Jesus tells us.  Maybe we are saved by grace. Maybe we are all forgiven. It isn't always spoken, but you can see it, if you have eyes to see.
Here are some moments that have struck me:

Sudanese children blessing the eucharistic host with the priest

An ex-convict, ex-motorcycle gang enforcer leading worship

Lutherans, Episcopalians, and dis-enchanted Baptists singing in unison

Praying over pizza crust to become our communion bread

A drunk asking for quiet during the sermon

Repeatedly reminding a man with a traumatic brain injury that he is, in fact, one of the saints of God

A formerly Mormon wild-woman bringing the cookies every week

A sermon from a quiet and kind policeman asking us to reflect on how we respond to suffering


You can't make this stuff up.
What are some moments of grace that have struck you?

When the LORD Won't Let You Sleep

So this is a blog? 

Do reader’s read this blog when they choose to read?

Does it depend on what the blogger blogs?

My name is Graham, and I am the lay missioner at Southside Abbey. We are a quirky church to say the least, with the homeless and the over-housed hanging out over pizza and chili. If you want to know more, stop by The Hart Gallery on a Friday night at 6:11pm and worship with us. It will be no less than a genuine, awkward human interaction with a brooding sense of the divine hovering all about.

With no further ado, let us continue on to what I actually intended to talk about, namely, the Old Testament lectionary reading for this upcoming Sunday: 

1 Samuel 3:1-20

¹Now the boy Samuel ministered to the LORD before Eli. 

And the word of the LORD was rare in those days; there was no widespread revelation. 

²And it came to pass at that time, while Eli was lying down in his place, 

and when his eyes had begun to grow so dim that he could not see, 

³and before the lamp of God went out in the tabernacle of the LORD where the ark of God was, and while Samuel was lying down, 

⁴that the LORD called Samuel. And he answered, "Here I am!" 

⁵So he ran to Eli and said, "Here I am, for you called me." 

And he said, "I did not call; lie down again." 

And he went and lay down. 

⁶Then the LORD called yet again, "Samuel!" 

So Samuel arose and went to Eli, and said, "Here I am, for you called me." 

He answered, "I did not call, my son; lie down again." 

⁷(Now Samuel did not yet know the LORD, 

nor was the word of the LORD yet revealed to him.)

 ⁸And the LORD called Samuel again the third time.

 So he arose and went to Eli, and said, "Here I am, for you did call me." 

Then Eli perceived that the LORD had called the boy. 

⁹Therefore Eli said to Samuel, "Go, lie down; and it shall be, 

if He calls you, that you must say, 'Speak, LORD, for Your servant hears.'" 

So Samuel went and lay down in his place. 

¹⁰Now the LORD came and stood and called as at other times, "Samuel! Samuel!"

 And Samuel answered, "Speak, for Your servant hears." 

¹¹Then the LORD said to Samuel: "Behold, 

I will do something in Israel at which both ears of everyone who hears it will tingle. 

¹²In that day I will perform against Eli 

all that I have spoken concerning his house, from beginning to end. 

¹³For I have told him that I will judge his house forever for the iniquity which he knows, 

because his sons made themselves vile, and he did not restrain them. 

¹⁴And therefore I have sworn to the house of Eli 

that the iniquity of Eli's house shall not be atoned for by sacrifice or offering forever." 

¹⁵So Samuel lay down until morning, and opened the doors of the house of the LORD.

 And Samuel was afraid to tell Eli the vision. 

¹⁶Then Eli called Samuel and said, "Samuel, my son!" 

He answered, "Here I am." 

¹⁷And he said, "What is the word that the LORD spoke to you? 

Please do not hide it from me. 

God do so to you, and more also, 

if you hide anything from me of all the things that He said to you." 

¹⁸Then Samuel told him everything, and hid nothing from him. 

And he said, "It is the LORD. Let Him do what seems good to Him." 

¹⁹So Samuel grew, and the LORD was with him 

and let none of his words fall to the ground. 

²⁰And all Israel from Dan to Beersheba 

knew that Samuel had been established as a prophet of the LORD.

NKJV

Did both of your ears tingle?

There is a lot that can go into interpreting a passage like this. We could delve into the history, context, and culture. When was it written? Who was it written to? What seems to be the author’s intent? We could talk about Eli’s no good sons, using their religious privilege to abuse women. Or we could talk about the character of Samuel, the first son of a barren woman dedicated to a life of ministry in the temple. This is, after all, a story about real people in a real place, and as such, there is an almost overwhelming amount of complexity.  And then there is God mucking about in the middle of it. 

Ultimately, I am the most curious about this “LORD” character. What is God doing waking everybody up in the middle of the night? Wouldn’t a mid-morning call be a little more civil? Doesn’t he know he is ruining their entire night?  This is the season of Ephiphany, when God reveals himself like a light in the darkness. Why is he moving around in the shadows?

 Can you imagine how exasperated Samuel and Eli must have been getting? They had spent a long day in the temple praying, offering sacrifices, and expiating the guilt of thoroughly screwed up human beings before a perfect and holy God. That’s exhausting.  Samuel thinks Eli keeps calling for him. He recognizes authority in the call, but Eli keeps denying it’s him. Why is the old man messing with him? 

Eli is wondering what the heck is wrong with this kid who keeps waking him up. Why can’t the kid just go back to sleep?

Then Eli realizes something else is going on.  God, that troubling God they worship, is getting himself involved. I love the line “Now the LORD came and stood and called...” God is intervening with, what  sounds like, a very physical presence. Can you imagine the Creator God of the cosmos standing in your hallway and calling your name?

Then God puts Samuel in an extremely awkward and even dangerous position. Samuel has to condemn the very person in authority over him. Eli provides everything for Samuel. Eli can ruin Samuel’s life.  Why is God asking a child to deliver this troubling message to his elder? 

You have to credit Eli, who, even though he hears the words from a boy, knows that they are the LORD’s words. It is a fascinating response, “It is the LORD. Let him do what seems good to him.” 

Is the correct response? Should he have pleaded with God? Is he actually repenting or just resigning himself? Should he have gone out and drove his sons out the temple? Out of the body of Israel? 

Perhaps.

I think of the other characters in the Bible who struggle against God. David pleading for the life of his bastard son. Abraham bargaining against the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah. Moses convincing God to not wipe-out all the Israelites. Habakuk decrying the seeming absence of God in the violence that plagued his society. Mary asking Jesus to miracle up some new wine. Jesus asking the Father if there is any way forward besides crucifixion. There is no one answer, but there seems to be space for asking.

So struggle with God. Listen for his voice. Obey. God may be troubling, but God is also Love.

Valentine's Day Dinner

From this week's Newsletter:

Beloved Community,

Our worship this Friday happens to fall on Valentine’s Day – also known as the Feast of St Valentine. 

So, who was St Valentine? 

Well, the short answer is, we don’t really know.  Sure – there are a few facts that have made their way down to us through the centuries.  Valentine was a priest . . . or a bishop (or there was a priest named Valentine and a bishop named Valentine whose stories got combined).  And he probably lived in the in 3^rd or 4^th Century.  And he was martyred.  But that’s all that history preserves about the mysterious saint.

Still, the story of a human life yearns to be told, and so St Valentine’s life grew in the telling, becoming legend.  Especially told and retold is the story of that part of a martyr’s life leading up to their death, which is called their passion – (from the Latin word for suffering).  St Valentine’s passion includes the legend of his friendship with his jailor’s daughter, a friendship that led to her conversion to the way of Jesus.  And according to the legend, the condemned priest signed his final note to his friend as “Your Valentine.”

Now, I’m not sure what all of that has to do with flowers, chocolates, and secret admirers, but as Bob likes to say, “What better way to memorialize the life of a celibate priest than to celebrate romantic love?” 

So, definitely make Valentine’s Day plans, definitely take your special-someone out this Friday evening . . . but start the night off with Southside Abbey dinner, prayer, and fellowship first.  It’s what St Valentine would have done.  And what can be more romantic than that?

Table Talk - Surprised by God

The Good News of Jesus Christ according to the evangelist John, chapter 1, verses 29 to 42.

John saw Jesus coming toward him and declared, "Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world! This is he of whom I said, `After me comes a man who ranks ahead of me because he was before me.' I myself did not know him; but I came baptizing with water for this reason, that he might be revealed to Israel." And John testified, "I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it remained on him. I myself did not know him, but the one who sent me to baptize with water said to me, `He on whom you see the Spirit descend and remain is the one who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.' And I myself have seen and have testified that this is the Son of God."

The next day John again was standing with two of his disciples, and as he watched Jesus walk by, he exclaimed, "Look, here is the Lamb of God!" The two disciples heard him say this, and they followed Jesus. When Jesus turned and saw them following, he said to them, "What are you looking for?" They said to him, "Rabbi" (which translated means Teacher), "where are you staying?" He said to them, "Come and see." They came and saw where he was staying, and they remained with him that day. It was about four o'clock in the afternoon. One of the two who heard John speak and followed him was Andrew, Simon Peter's brother. He first found his brother Simon and said to him, "We have found the Messiah" (which is translated Anointed). He brought Simon to Jesus, who looked at him and said, "You are Simon son of John. You are to be called Cephas" (which is translated Peter).

The discussion over dinner reflected on these questions:

1.  How has God surprised you?

2.  How is God surprising you now?

Sunday Supper, Prayer, Theology-on-Tube

Bob wrapped up the conversation with these thoughts:

The overarching theme that I got from what I heard [in the discussions around the table] is God’s ability to surprise.  So many of us are locked into – or feel that we’re locked into – this schedule of ‘this is what I have to do today’ and ‘I have to get this next thing done because of this other thing.’  My eyes were really open to this at Thanksgiving.  [Lisa and I] had eleven guys from Sudan sharing Thanksgiving with us, and one of them said to me, “You Americans, all you do is work, eat, and sleep.”  Work, eat, sleep.  

Work.  

         Eat. 

              Sleep . . . .  

                               And I thought, wait - what else is there?  

I was surprised that he saw that so clearly . . . and reflected that back to me.  We can get locked into that, can’t we?  Work, eat, sleep.  But there’s really so much more to this life.  

And if we just have the eyes to see it, God has the capacity and the ability [to surprise us], and he’s surprising us all the time – 

all of the time.

Even if we have an expectation and things don’t go well or the way we expected, God has the ability to surprise us.  And God often surprises us in way that our expectations are blown away.  We had a great gathering last Sunday evening for our first Sunday supper, prayer, and theology-on-tube dry run.  And I had expected that we’d have a few folks and it would go well, but we had whole lot of folks and it went incredibly well.  The discussion was really deep and wonderful.  What a surprise!  Even though we were expecting good, it was great. 

So the question I think I’ll leave you with to ponder as we leave this place is, where might you be surprised?  If you’re feeling sort of locked into that schedule of work-eat-sleep, work-eat-sleep, where are some places for to pick your head up, open your eyes, and be open to those surprises – to God’s surprises?  This is the season of Epiphany, so where might you have an epiphany – or, as the Greeks say, a theophany?  Where is God opening your eyes in this season of Epiphany?     

Believe in the Resurrection? Heck - We've seen it!

If you haven't heard about it, there's recently been a blog battle waged between two of the big, popular Christian thinkers of the day.  The first shot was fired - apparently without any attempt to offend - by author and Theologian-in-Residence at Solomon's Porch, Tony Jones.  On his blog, responding to the question of a reader, Jones casually characterized the view of Christ's resurrection held by Marcus Borg as a feeling that "only happens in the believer's heart," rather than an event that occurred in objective reality.  Borg - the well-known historical Jesus scholar and Canon Theologian at Trinity Episcopal Cathedral - countered by claiming that Jones has misrepresented his take on the Resurrection of Jesus.  Jones allowed that perhaps his original characterization was off the mark, but that Borg's perspective, even with all the nuance it demands, amounts to a denial of the resurrection as a real event.  Finally, Borg followed up with a post in which he further explained his perspective and reiterated the question at the end of his previous post: "does [this] disagreement matter?"

Not a few bloggers have weighed in on this whole debate.  And I certainly have my own thoughts on that matter (some of which can be read in this Easter sermon about zombies and vampires).  But I'd rather talk about another reflection on the resurrection I've heard recently.

Photo by Ben Thomas

The other day, our merry missioner, Bob and I were riding back from a meeting that included some of our fellow clergy in the area.  During our conversation on the drive, it became clear that the negativity of a few of the clergy about their ministries had diminished Bob's usual joviality.  Later in the day, Bob was back in high spirits.  So, I asked him what could have lifted the cloud of gloominess that followed us from the meeting.
He answered, "The Holy Spirit, man."

Bob explained that he had been driving back after presiding at the Eucharist at a nearby church for a rector who was away.  As he was returning to the Southside, the Spirit filled him with her sighs too deep for words.  He saw that old chicken factory that employs so many in and around the Southside.  He saw that motel that doubles as the most affordable housing for those folks and families who otherwise wouldn't have a home - the same motel where Southside Abbey put up a bouncy-castle, some tables-and-chairs, and a grill a few weeks ago, throwing a party to celebrate one year of striving to be the beloved community in this neighborhood.  He saw this neighborhood we call home, for which Southside Abbey has declared a Jubilee Year and begun collecting the funds to make it so.  He saw that the tomb was indeed empty, and - between laughing and crying - he said out loud:  "The Resurrection is real!  There's resurrection all around us!"

In their blog debate, neither Jones nor Borg have addressed why some saw the risen Christ while others did not, and why some at first only saw a gardener or stranger but later recognized him as their resurrected Lord.  But an Anglican priest and theologian, Sarah Coakley has explored those very questions.  Coakley has looked to the teachings of the early Church fathers and mothers on the development of the spiritual senses for recognizing the resurrected Christ and the new creation begun in him.  In the word proclaimed, we learn to hear and receive the voice of the risen one.  Through the liturgy - our common prayer - our deepest desire is reoriented to its true object, the risen Christ, and we come to recognize him in the Eucharistic meal that we share.  But Coakley points out that the development of these spiritual senses brings with it an awareness of real absence, of the cross, of the empty tomb.

This is no less true when we develop our spiritual senses morally, to see the resurrection in the world around us. "By the same token," Coakley writes, "in my moral life, in my intended acts of mercy, though it is Jesus I seek to obey and emulate, it is always in the erasure of expectation that Jesus truly presents himself to me - in the entirely unromantic other, in the exhausting and defeating poverty of my neighbor . . . ."  And it's this real absence, this erasure of expectation, this recognition of the empty tomb as an empty tomb that empties us, dispossesses us, opens us to the Holy Spirit.  For, finally, the development of our spiritual senses only creates the possibility for recognizing the risen Jesus.  To truly see him - in the Eucharist and in the face of those we serve - is to have received him as a gift given "in the incarnational physicality of" the meal we share and the neighbors we serve, through the Holy Spirit.

"The Resurrection is real!  There's resurrection all around us!"
               

        

Jesus Was Right There, in the Bounce House

Until last week, I'd never been involved in a worshipping community's celebration of the completion of its first year; Southside Abbey's one year anniversary changed that.

Think about all that takes place throughout the church year. Ordinary Time becomes the watchfulness of Advent. Incarnation is realized in Epiphany. Lenten fasts are broken by Easter joy. The Great Fifty Days culminate in the gift of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, until once again, time becomes ordinary.

While every parish shares in this rich rhythm, it is different with a new worshiping community. Everything is new. There is no, “we've always done it that way.” At Epiphany, no one thought it odd that we went door-to-door sharing “Episcopal Epiphany Pickles” . . . three hundred pounds of pickles. By Lent, no one batted an eye when soup-making consumed every Sunday . . . so that we could share 400 cups with our neighborhood. 

Our 21st Century interpretation of caring for the feet of the poor became 240 brand new shoes (and the socks to go with them) delivered to the local elementary school . . . no front-page scoop followed. The Pentecost “Tongues of Fire Chili Cook-Off” fed a multitude with close to forty gallons of homemade liquid heat . . . and by now, people were starting to catch on. 

Now, as we look forward to another year, we are also able to tell the story of over 2,000 meals served as a part of worship. It has been a great year. This is what happens when Jesus shows up.

We wanted to celebrate the completion of a year well-lived with a party in true Southside Abbey style. So we decided to worship in the parking lot of a local motel that houses many of the working poor in our neighborhood. We had a grill with hot dogs and veggie burgers, a makeshift altar (complete with flowers picked from a nearby front yard and a piece of barbed-wire found in the parking lot), and a race-car-shaped bounce-house. Nearly 150 people were in attendance for the celebration.

As the celebration was winding down, I noticed a young girl leaving the bounce-house with some determination. I realized that she was headed straight for me. She made her way through the crowd, marched up to me, and hugged me. Her dirt-smudged cheeks had the random tinge of orange frosting. Her hair was matted from little-kid bounce-house sweat. Her clothes were brightly-colored with rainbows and unicorns dancing across the shoulders. This was the most uncomfortable hug of my life . . .

Then, just as soon as she had found me, she pushed her way back through the crowd. I lost her. I still do not know where this child came from, but I know who she really is. I like to think that she was Jesus – right there in the bounce-house – hugging me for what Southside Abbey stepped out in faith to do.

Thank you Southside Abbey for a wonderful year and thank you Jesus for all the hugs. 

This blog post was originally posted on the Episcopal Church Foundation's Vital Practices Vital Posts Blog on October 3, 2013, and is reprinted with permission.

Being the Beloved Community

“The beloved community may then finally be described as a gift of the kingdom of God introduced into history by the church, and thus it exists within the provenance of Christ’s mystery in the world.”

-Charles Marsh, The Beloved Community, p 207

Within eyeshot of our beloved worship space at H♥ART Gallery there is a beautiful, red brick church building.  The sign in front of the recently restored old edifice identifies it as THE CHURCH ON MAIN.  But this moniker can be misleading for two main reasons.  First, THE CHURCH ON MAIN is located at the corner of Rossville and Read Avenues, not Main Street.  Second, THE CHURCH ON MAIN isn’t actually a church; it’s a rentable event space.  Now, to be fair, a church is currently renting the venue on Sunday mornings.  And this summer, quite a few couples have decided to rent out the space so that – presumably – they could have the appearance of a Church wedding without actually having to deal with the Church.  But all this raises the question: If THE EVENT SPACE ON ROSSVILLE can proudly call itself a Church without anyone batting an eye, what do you call a building-bereft worshiping community like Southside Abbey?

The question is not whether we are a church or part of the Church.  As a worshiping community of Jesus-followers, of course Southside Abbey is a member of the Body of Christ – (part of the μίαν, ἁγίαν, καθολικὴν καὶ ἀποστολικὴν ἐκκλησίαν [One, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic Assembly]).  The real question is what type of member are we?  What gifts has the Spirit bestowed on us as a community and to what ministry is She calling us in our larger community here in the Southside of Chattanooga?

As our community has been discerning the answer to these questions, we have stumbled on an answer to the initial question of what to call Southside Abbey.  What we have hoped to be, what we are longing to be, what we will strive to be is the local embodiment of the Beloved Community here in our neighborhood and city.  This is a term used by many of our heroes in the faith – most notably, the Reverend Dr Martin Luther King, Jr.  The Rev Dr King spoke of the Beloved Community as that group of Christians and followers-of-Jesus and even those who do not know the Lord, bound together to work and live out the Gospel’s promise and challenge of nonviolent reconciliation and healing.  That’s a tall order, no doubt, but it is surely Southside Abbey’s calling. 

So, by God’s grace and with the help of our friends and neighbors, Southside Abbey will continue to live into our calling as the Beloved Community in Chattanooga’s Southside . . . (and THE EVENT SPACE ON ROSSVILLE can keep the name, THE CHURCH ON MAIN).