On Homelessness
Reading & Sermon preached by Reverend Carolyn Patierno
September 21, 2008

Reading

The Legacy of Caring    Thandeka
Despair is my private pain
born from what I have failed to say
failed to do, failed to overcome.

Be still my inner self
let me rise to you,
let me reach down into your pain
and soothe you.

I turn to you to renew my life
I turn to the world, the streets of
the city, the worn tapestries of
brokerage firms,

drug dealers, private estates
personal things in the bag
lady's cart

rage and pain in the faces that
turn from me
afraid of their own inner worlds.

This common world I love anew,
as the life blood of generations
who refused to surrender their humanity
in an inhumane world,
courses through my veins.

From within this world
my despair is transformed to hope
and I begin anew
the legacy of caring.

***

Sermon

If you live in this area and you read the paper or our own newsletter, you likely know that the Homeless Hospitality Center (HHC) and the New London City Council were embroiled in a drama that began to unfold at the start of June and then continued to escalate through July and then August.  Many articles appeared in The Day and for the most part, the coverage was fair and reliable.  The Editorial Board also published two opinion page pieces both extremely supportive of HHC’s efforts. 

Now, if you have ever read the paper online, you know that readers are able to comment on all stories.  And they certainly do.  From the start, I felt that at least someone in HHC’s leadership needed to be reading the comments to try to gain insight into the hearts and minds of the wider community.   As I serve as the president of the HHC Board, I elected myself as the reader of the reader comments.  Everyday I would hunker down and read them all.

There were supportive comments, to be sure.  As well, some of the comments, whether supportive of the shelter or opposed, were reasonable and compassionate.  Our own Ellen Anthony contributed her own thoughtfully crafted perspective. 

And then there were the other comments that weren’t so compassionate, thoughtful, or reasonable.  I had planned on beginning this sermon with some of the more choice comments posted by readers – more often than not, anonymously.  But the task of cutting and pasting and pulling it together just wasn’t coming together until finally, I realized that I needed to listen carefully to the message the Mystery was offering me: “Step away from the malice.”

True, initially I had needed to witness the ugliness for practical reasons.  But I began to realize that exposure to these comments was putting my soul’s health in danger.  Last Sunday, I chose not to show artwork to the children that depicted the martyrdom of St. Clement.   I figured that children know, just as we do, what cruelty looks like without being exposed to the brutal visual proof.  Likewise, overexposure to proof of the inhumanity that is rooted in fear and ignorance and mixed with anger was making me vulnerable to a spiritual battering.  I stopped reading the comments. 
This is all to say, as I had reason to say last week and the week before, it was a difficult summer.  And as I felt it important to offer further reflection last week on the Knoxville shooting, I felt it was important to reflect on the crisis the shelter faced. 

Because I had been absolutely sure that this sermon would simply flow out of me, I was surprised to find that I was stuck.  After hours at the computer there was still no angle.  Nothing.  Antsy and frustrated, I called my friend Cathy Zall who is the most generous of souls, I swear to you.  Cathy, as many of you know, is the executive director of HHC & the minister of First Congregational Church.   Cathy Zall who, though publically and unjustly maligned has never lost her faith in humanity through all of this mess.  In fact, she helped keep me – among others – in balance.  There are many lessons suitable for sermonic contemplation in the manner in which Cathy behaved in the midst of this crisis.  Indeed, in the manner in which many people behaved.    

But back to the phone call to Cathy.  I call her but knowing that her time is so in demand, I feel a little guilty for calling at all.  She assures me that she’s okay to talk as she’s just finished helping to serve the chowder lunch that First Congregational serves every Friday. Luckily I caught her in between good deeds.    I tell her my dilemma and she asks about my angle as in, “What’s your angle?”  “Oh, I don’t know!  I’m all over the place.”  I tell her that there needs to be an educational component.  I tell her I want to include some stories.  I tell her I need to inspire the congregation to get involved.  I remind her homelessness is the focal issue the Social Justice Committee has chosen for the year.  But Cathy knows me.  Mostly, I was leaning toward a verbal hemorrhage, which, from the pulpit, can never come to any good.   My heart leapt when Cathy then offered to come down to my house so we could talk it out. 

She arrived twenty minutes later.   I opened the door and in greeting I said, “I figured it out.”  (Later, she told me that she knew that that was going to happen.) 

The heck with the dregs, the drudgery and the unfortunate characters in this cast.  Skip it, Reverend.  You’ve all witnessed it yourselves and are well aware.  You don’t need to see the artwork.  Here’s the more important and interesting and inspiring angle.  This morning I’d like to share some of the joy that came of this turmoil, joy I was reminded of when a friend offered me company when I was so stuck.     

Here’s some background.  This issue – homelessness, housing – had never captured my full attention.  I have lived among many homeless people as by and large, I’ve lived in cities my entire adult life, New London being the smallest of these.  Sure, I recognized the presence of those in need.  When I taught religious education classes at my church in New York, the children and I spent time on projects that benefitted the homeless, several of whom slept outside on the stoop of that church.  I helped in small ways.  I thought I was aware.

Really, I had no idea.  No idea of the intersection of a myriad of social ills that become the perfect storm that throws a life off course and onto the streets. 

Homelessness most often, but certainly not always, is a circumstance that poor people face.  The comedian Chris Rock recently commented that unlike those who are relatively secure financially, poor people rarely if ever get a second chance.  Your life gets knocked off course by one thing setting off a domino affect that’s difficult to stop.  You could break your head thinking about it.  But my head wasn’t breaking because it wasn’t the issue upon which I focused.  Until four years ago.

What I have come to understand about social justice work, within an urban setting especially, is that you don’t really get to choose your issues.  You’ve got to respond to the injustice that’s staring you in the face.  When it’s people who are staring you in the face, people without shelter, you must respond.  That’s what quite a few people in the neighborhood did:  they responded.  And in creating an effective partnership together, the Homeless Hospitality Center came into being, originally the brain and spirit child of Fr. Emmett Jarrett from St. Francis House.  Today, HHC is comprised of two programs:  the overnight shelter at St. James and the Hospitality Center that we host here at All Souls.  We also offer the showers five days a week –the only handicapped accessible shower in the city; and space for various HHC meetings. 

With community support such as our own and that of other institutions, HHC has been able to find permanent housing for over 70 people.  Working in partnership with other social service agencies and inspired by the Ten Year Plan to End Homelessness, dozens of our guests have finally received access to disability and medical benefits to which they are entitled.  And there have been many benefits to the wider community including less reliance on the emergency room at L&M because our guests receive consistent medical care from the Visiting Nurses Association at the Hospitality Center.  And because there is someplace for homeless men and women to go during the day, the New London Public Library is no longer used as the default hospitality center. 

A sense of community permeates the overnight shelter and the hospitality center.  Not always a perfect community but one that strives for justice and compassion.  Positive relationships have been forged among the guests and those who strive to serve them.

And those who strive to serve them, myself included, have been changed for the experience.  John Russell came to church one Sunday four years ago when I invited the congregation to volunteer at the overnight shelter.  Like many people, the matter of homelessness had not caught his attention.  He concedes he had held a bit of resentment toward homeless people.  And then he went to the shelter for his first volunteer shift.  John describes this experience as a conversion experience.   He saw there a former professor of his, there as a guest.  Today, countless homeless men and women’s lives have been enriched because of John’s commitment and passion.  Most recently the Homeless to Hopeful Dance – an event John created and now makes happen - raised over $40,000 for HHC and Covenant Shelter.    

There is the story of Charlie Duffy.  Charlie is a member of St. James and a lobbyist by trade.  He and his wife began to volunteer at the shelter and witnessed the lives that are in the balance.   Charlie spends the winter out in California.  Upon his return this year, he said his greatest joy was returning to the shelter. 

I’ve already talked with you about Cathy Zall.  And there are many others – staff and volunteers who have created something that is not only effective in serving our guests it’s also offering staff and volunteers the joy of forging powerful partnerships through growing friendships.  This gift is a great one:  it is the gift of friendship the depth of which comes to those who together, take on the work of the world.  Work that is common as mud, says the poet.  There’s the joy.  And it is immense.    

As you know, as a congregation we will focus our attention, time, and resources on the matter of homelessness and housing.  We will learn together.  We will volunteer together.  We will advocate together and through all of these “togethers” we are blessed with the joy of friendship among ourselves and over time, with those who we endeavor to serve. 

And so, I’m asking for your help on behalf of the literally hundreds of homeless people – our brothers and sisters – who live in this region, in our towns and neighborhoods without permanent shelter.  We are focusing our volunteer efforts on
two agencies with which we partner:  the Homeless Hospitality Center and Habitat for Humanity of SE CT.  The Social Justice Committee is staffing a table after the service where you can sign up.  You’ll be contacted with more information and conversation.  Sign up with a friend or sign up with someone who you’d like to become a friend. 

And in the meantime, maybe you do something that’s pretty simple.  Donate toiletries for the showers.  Launder towels for the Sunday or Tuesday night showers.  Come see the movie, The Pursuit of Happyness on October 1st.  Released in 2007 the movie is a true story about a father who finds himself homeless and must survive the ordeal for his own sake and that of his son.  You can do something today.  You can give a little bit more than you had planned to the Good Neighbor Offering today when our offering will support Habitat for Humanity.  (Note: the offering raised over $1200)

The world and its hurts are overwhelming.  There are a number of ways to push back for to retreat is not an option for us, however tempting retreat may feel.  One is to jump into the holy fray.   It may seem that you are not fixing a thing.  But in times like these, serving others is the way to healing the world.  I’m convinced of it. 

Be still my inner self
let me rise to you,
let me reach down into your pain
and soothe you.

I turn to you to renew my life
I turn to the world, the streets of
the city, the worn tapestries of
brokerage firms,

   drug dealers, private estates
personal things in the bag
lady's cart
This common world I love anew,
as the life blood of generations
who refused to surrender their humanity
in an inhumane world,
courses through my veins.

From within this world
my despair is transformed to hope
and I begin anew
the legacy of caring.

You are part of that legacy of caring to which Thandeka refers.  Jump into the holy fray.  There you will be faced with heartbreak – that of others and surely, your own.  But you are strong enough to suffer a broken heart on another person’s behalf.  Because with heartbreak our hearts expand to embrace that which keeps us going and serving:  hope and yes, joy. 

Jump into the holy fray.

Amen.