“Homeless Dignity” 

“The Earth is filled with His Glory…” 

 

     I’m in the back of a church auditorium on Sunday morning, sitting at one of a dozen ageless brown rectangular tables that have seen better days. It’s covered with a thin plastic disposal tablecloth, the pictured pattern showing people enjoying a 4th of July celebration. Seated at the table are a dozen or so other homeless folks, who like the table, have seen better days. 

 

     Some are hunched over their Styrofoam plates, using plastic forks and spoons to feed themselves. At this table, homeless we may be, seated on both sides, we are the luckier ones. At one end of the table is a young woman in a wheelchair with the control arm that allows her to move by using her chin. One of the church volunteers is gently feeding her. She is smiling and they seem to be enjoying each other’s company. At the other end is an old woman, seated in a basic wheelchair, her arms resting on her lap, while a man long past his prime, silently feeds her, occasionally wiping her chin.

 

     Unlike other church meals I attended in the past, there is little conversation as we focus on the plate before us. I stop eating to watch the volunteers of all ages carry pitchers of brightly colored orange drink and silver plastic platters piled high with food. Today, we are very fortunate. No oatmeal, stale rolls, or a one plate limit. When we finish our first plate, we are offered more from these beautiful platters filled with pancakes, sausage links, scrambled eggs and toast. It may be a bit cold, but no one complains to the waitress nor calls for the manager. I am told they feed more than one hundred folks each Sunday.

 

     Up front there is a church band playing the “Top Ten Christian Songs” of the last few years. ‘Good food and music-only in the best places…’ At the front of auditorium, there are chairs set in rows for a service which starts in a few minutes.  It has been a while since I attended Sunday morning service, with or without breakfast.

  

     Every Sunday beginning at 7:30 am, Grace Lutheran Church on North 3rd street, Phoenix, AZ., hosts this brunch.  The usual fare is pancakes, link sausages, scrambled eggs, coffee and orange drink.  You can go back for ‘second’s’ most Sundays.

   

     Most of the folks eating are homeless. Others come from the low-income apartments in the neighborhood. As I finish my breakfast, I notice the chairs up front filling up with the homeless and ‘civilians’ (normal types with jobs, cars, families and homes).  On any Sunday there are several churches in town that feed.  It’s good to know what and when, especially if they feed before or after service.

 

     This fellowship has feed a couple hundred this morning.  I am always surprised and pleased to see the volunteers here; they come in all sizes, shapes, colors and backgrounds.  Week in and out, little grey-haired grandmothers, bearded bikers in full leathers, accountants, construction workers, middle-aged mothers with children take part in the cooking, serving, and cleaning up.

 

     Maybe, the greatest gift they give us is their presence. Being there, assisting us extends a dignity to our homelessness.  It shows us that we have value, that we are not a faceless, nameless, many times ignored group of society.  They show their faith by actions.  I think that this must be what Jesus meant when he preached those many years ago.  Instead of just walking up to someone and telling them about religion, these folks begin by developing a relationship.  Most churches I’ve seen are more concerned with a building program, increasing their size, even their political power.

 

     Most of the homeless go to church on a regular basis, some go whenever the doors are open and not just for the food.  Some still attend the church they did before they became homeless. 

 

     I finish my meal, deposit the plate, plastic spoon, fork and cup in the brown, plastic trash can, then sit in one of the folding chairs up front. As I listen to the songs, I am reminded of how my life was before. I was married, had a good job, and my future looked bright and full.  We attended a church and sang some of these same songs. How I got from there to here is a partial mystery.  I am not alone in this; many homeless can claim the same.  When some think of loss, they immediately think of jobs, homes, families, opportunities. 

 

     These in themselves are important and are part of the process of becoming homeless. While many who have lost one or more of these things can feel less than, being homeless on top of the other losses leave us with an empty place in our souls and spirits.  Most of us sleep in shelters, although some prefer to sleep outside on the streets. As the days, weeks, months of our homelessness roll by, we lose that most precious gift-our dignity, self-worth and value for ourselves and others. 

Many never find it again but continue to spire downwards until some gladly welcome death-not being worried about hell: we live it day in and day out.

 

     I feel the tears well up as I sing along and am overcome with memories. I see now, without dignity, we are no more than animals forging for food and shelter. At this point all we can do is seek solace- brief moments of forgetfulness in alcohol, drugs and other self-destructive behaviors, anything that will ease our pain and obscure the reality of our condition. Without our dignity, we have no vision greater than ourselves, no reason to get up, to keep on keeping on.

 

     All too quickly the music, sermon and benediction end and the “flock” files out. There is no small gatherings of folks making plans to go eat or ‘let’s get together later this week’.  Except for a few here and there talking, we just leave.

I feel somehow strengthened as I think back to the breakfast tables and the young girl, the older lady in the wheelchairs and my other companions. What we shared was much more than a meal. We are survivors, with a little bit of hope and reassurance that we do matter to some. I pick up my jacket and pack, headed for the door, making a mental note to be here next Sunday… 

 

Originally written 01-12-09 

 

Between 2022 and 2023, the number of people experiencing homelessness in the U.S increased by 12 percent, marking the largest yearly surge since the Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) began collecting data in 2007 ¹. hsph.harvard.edu