Another Man’s Shoes
What's it like to be homeless? An hour-by-hour account of, and meditation on, one morning of the "30-Hour Famine Weekend" youth retreat in February, 2009 in downtown Wilmington, Delaware.
by John Crossan, who is active in the youth and choral ministries at Christ Church Christiana Hundred.
Photos
Above: Youth from the diocese burn their confessions during this year’s 30-Hour Famine. Thirty or so kids from five different parishes joined together in prayer and service projects coordinated by Bill Perkins of Friendship House.
Above: two youth from Christ Church with their homeless guides just before "Saturday Sanctuary" in the parish hall at First & Central Presbyterian.
Above: a youth from Church of the Ascension in Claymont entertains us with his musical gifts.
You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view—until you climb into his skin and walk around in it. (spoken by Atticus Finch in Harper Lee’s novel, To Kill a Mockingbird)
At 5 AM on a cold Saturday morning in February, after just two to three hours of sleep, eight high school youth, another adult leader, and I roused from sleep and journeyed in the dark to the heart of Wilmington. For the next six hours we were going to walk in another man’s shoes. It was part of the 30-Hour Famine weekend, a project where youth and leaders from four other Episcopal churches in the area gathered with Christ Church Christiana Hundred to fast for 30 hours and participate in service projects that would lead us into a deeper awareness of hunger and poverty.
You are sealed by the Holy Spirit in Baptism and marked as Christ’s own forever. (Episcopal Book of Common Prayer [BCP], page 308)
6:00 AM – Friendship House, basement of The Episcopal Church of Sts. Andrew & Matthew. When you're homeless and stay in a shelter overnight, at 6:00 a.m. they open the doors, and the street is your home again. We paired up in small groups with homeless men from Andrew’s Place, the shelter for homeless men 55 and older. I had never met a homeless man before. Sure, I had seen them on the street and perhaps said, “sorry, no change” when asked, or looked the other way, so that they wouldn't ask. But standing in front of me wasn't a “bum” or street shadow crouched down on the sidewalk; he was a man, and his name was Ellis. The simple act of meeting him blew me away. In learning his name and shaking his hand, I couldn't simply dismiss him as a statistic of society; he had dignity. He had a name and a story, a place he had come from and a valley he was walking through. We stepped out onto the streets and began to walk down Market Street.
Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. (Romans 8:35, 37)
It was cold, very cold. But not as cold as it was the week before or the forecast promised it would be in a few days. We hadn't dressed appropriately. Walking to your car is different than walking for hours on end. We shivered and wished we'd worn better walking shoes. But how would we have known? How could we prepare for something we didn't anticipate and had never experienced? The same can probably be said for the homeless.
He told me that as a homeless person, you have a lot of time, and walking is the main thing you do. You walk uptown; you walk downtown; you do it again and again. When you're homeless, you have to carry all of your possessions with you. Some start out trying to take all of their things, but they soon realize what is essential. It often fits in a backpack. Could I reduce my life’s possessions to a backpack, perhaps a locker? It changes your perspective on where you find meaning in life when all you have is your dignity.
That it may please thee to show thy pity upon all prisoners and captives, the homeless and the hungry, and all who are desolate and oppressed, we beseech thee to hear us, good Lord. (from The Great Litany, BCP 151)
6:30 AM – Wilmington Train Station We walked down to the train station, and as we approached we passed the Budget Rent-a-Car lot. He pointed out a rental truck with the back door halfopen. “That’s the Budget Motel,” he said. I thought he was joking until he explained that the folks who run it leave the lot gate open and the truck doors ajar, so that people have someplace to stay on a freezing winter night. Ellis said that it’s dangerous and only a last resort. We walked into the train station. He said that the station has one of only about two or three public restrooms in the city. Not a small thing to consider when you don't have a home or job to use the facilities. My eyes were opening to a world I had never known right in the midst of a world I knew so well. We walked on.
That it may please thee to support, help, and comfort all who are in danger, necessity, and tribulation, we beseech thee to hear us, good Lord. (from The Great Litany, BCP 151)
He told us that he had only become homeless at the beginning of the year. He had a wife and house across the river in New Jersey, but he had a drug addiction too. And when you're trying to break it, home is not the best place to be. He said that no one actually ever chooses to become homeless, but you make poor choices that lead you there. He said that some people accept their lot as such while others are just down on their luck and trying to get back on their feet. He fell into the latter group.
He told us how he was raised a single child in a loving two-parent home, gone to college, served in the Army during Vietnam, and became an ordained Pentecostal preacher. His downfall was that he had taken it for granted; he was filled with pride and resented his upbringing. Drugs eventually worked their way in along with a bad knee from the war. He’s in rehab now and is trying to correct his mistakes. “Bad choices,” he said, “they have consequences.” And we walked on through the cold, empty streets of Wilmington; he with his cane.
That it may please thee to give us true repentance; to forgive us all our sins, negligences, and ignorances; and to endue us with the grace of thy Holy Spirit to amend our lives according to thy holy Word, we beseech thee to hear us, good Lord. (from The Great Litany, BCP 152)
7:30 AM – Dunkin' Donuts, 9th and Shipley. We walked to the Dunkin' Donuts and saw a lot of guys standing outside of it. He told us how there had been problems there recently, because too many homeless had been hanging out there. They just wanted a warm place to rest, something I was beginning to have strong empathy for. The owners are friendly and let them stay normally, but it had become too much.
There’s a fine balance between helping someone and being taken advantage of. I asked him, “When I see a homeless person on the street and they ask me for money, should I give some to him?” He said it depends. Some will use it for food and others for addictions. Go with your instinct was his advice. Not the answer I was looking for, but few things in life have easy answers with no risk.
“For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in.” (Matthew 25:35)
8:15 AM – Winter Sanctuary, basement of First & Central Presbyterian Church, Rodney Square. I had been to First & Central before to sing with the Cathedral choir, but I had never come in the basement entrance before. I'd also never come in with other homeless men. We signed in and took a chair. A warm room and chair never felt so good. Instant coffee never tasted so good. I met some of the other men that were there. They all had their stories. The ones I talked to were well educated and had wonderful careers until drugs had derailed them. We didn't talk about that. Homeless men also have social norms about what you do and don't talk about. In terms of the old adage about “your health and the weather,” it was best to stick to the weather.
As I sat there I found myself thinking, “This is a fine church. What if the people who go here knew that there were homeless men hanging out in the basement?” But what if they did? Was there something wrong? It was a church, God’s house, a sanctuary for His children. Isn't that exactly what it is to be used for? I felt ashamed, and my pride was checked when I considered how I looked –unwashed, unshaven, dreary-eyed, and wearing the same clothes from yesterday that I had slept in. Who was I to talk? In life we all find ourselves at moments that are less than our best, but we are still children of God.
From all blindness of heart; from pride, vainglory, and hypocrisy; from envy, hatred, and malice; and from all want of charity, Good Lord, deliver us. (from The Great Litany, BCP 149)
9:20 AM – Wilmington Library. We walked across Rodney Square to the library. It’s a popular spot for homeless men to rest from their walking. It’s a public place, but there’s protocol. If you're homeless, you have to go to the reading room to the left and have a book in front of you. Otherwise, you're out. When we walked in with Ellis, we received a look of disdain—guilty by association. I wanted it to go the other way—innocent by association. But in that moment, we were all homeless, and in the clerk’s eyes, guilty. It made me think of the redeeming work of God in Christ. As sinners we're all guilty and fall short, and only with Christ are we made innocent by association. As I talked with Ellis, I wondered, “Why don't you just get a job—pick yourself up by the bootstraps? Why don't you just reenter society?”
Just? The problem is that when you have a drug addiction, come payday, you shoot your paycheck up your arm; then you're not able to work; then you lose your job; then you still have an addiction that takes whatever money you have. It’s a vicious cycle...You may get some money from the government, but renting a house, paying for food, and staying clean isn't really possible on a few hundred dollars per month. Fortunately, there are programs at the V.A. hospital and Friendship House, among others, that offer counseling, treatment, tutoring, and resume workshops for those who are trying to climb out of the valley. Ellis is trying, but it’s not easy. And in the meantime, when self-respect is one of the few things you have to help yourself, common respect from others can't hurt.
That it may please thee to strengthen such as do stand; to comfort the weak-hearted; to raise up those who fall; and finally to beat down Satan under our feet, we beseech thee to hear us, good Lord. (from The Great Litany, BCP 152)
10:00 AM – Wilmington Riverfront. We had been walking for four hours, more or less, and it was only 10 AM. It seemed to me that no one knows that life is a journey more than the homeless. We had walked around the city several times and needed a new place to walk. I suggested the Riverfront; Ellis had never been there. Even though he had walked very near it, he had never ventured down there. We walked along the Riverwalk and saw the crew teams on the Christina. We went into the Riverfront Market and soaked in the smell of fresh produce and cheesesteaks. He was in awe of this new path and commented that the “tour guide” role had been reversed on him.
How often do we follow our daily path and completely miss wonderful vistas? Or the less fortunate in our midst? We walked back up Market Street and stood in front of the Grand Opera House. I would go to a concert there that night, but in that moment at that same place, I was in another world. I realized how often we only see our lives in the world around us. When we look with our eyes, we see our activities, our friends, our work and play. How often do we realize that there are many layers of experience in that same space? That bench that I sit on is someone’s bed. The old clothes that I donate are someone’s only clothes. The road that I speed down is a steep hill that someone climbs every day.
Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you? (Matthew 25:37-39)
11:45 AM – Friendship House, basement of Episcopal Church of Sts. Andrew & Matthew. We all gathered together at Friendship House to debrief on our experience. Ellis spoke about how wonderful it was to see a smile, to feel a handshake, to hear his name. I was humbled by how simple those things are to give, and yet how infrequently I give them to my homeless neighbors. I was reminded of our baptismal vows “to respect the dignity of every human being.”
Ellis isn't just a “homeless man.” He has dignity and is a child of God—a beloved child of God. When we left each other, he said, “I can't say that I hope to see you again, not under these circumstances.” I wished him well and pulled a shell out of my pocket to give to him. I had gotten it on my recent pilgrimage to England. The shell is a symbol of baptism, when we are “marked as Christ’s own forever,” and it is also a symbol of pilgrimage, the journey of our life to God. Sometimes, the smallest things can be incredibly encouraging when you're traveling a tough road.
For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 8:38-39)
12:15 PM – On the way back to Christ Church. As we drove away, I stopped at the stop light by the Dunkin' Donuts, and Ellis was crossing the street. I waved through my car to get his attention, but he didn't see me. I wondered if I would return to my life and he to his, and we not be changed by the experience. As we pulled into church, one of the youth wondered if he should feel guilty. “Guilt is the wrong g-word,” I said. “I think it’s something more like gratitude.” May God open our eyes to see the world as He sees and fill us with gratitude for His compassion, mercy, and grace. And from a heart full of gratitude may our lives flow forth in generosity to give back to a hurting, broken world the abundant love God has so graciously given us.
“Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?” The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on him.” Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.” (Luke 10:36-37)
The next morning in church was the first Sunday in Lent, the beginning of the season of prayer and fasting, self-examination and repentance, of getting right with God and our neighbors. We started the service with the choir processing around the church praying The Great Litany, my feet sore from walking for hours the day before. Walking and praying, around and around, “We beseech thee to hear us, good Lord.”
I was glad when it was over, and we could get back to the business of the regular service. But the truth is that all of life is a pilgrimage where every day we are walking and praying, seeking God and a better life, both in this world and in the world to come, and hopefully helping our fellow travelers along the way.
That night it snowed six to eight inches. As I got up for work to reenter my normal routine, I thought about Ellis. It was 8 AM; he had already been walking for two hours. I said a prayer for him and for myself and went on my way.
Lord, we pray thee that thy grace may always precede and follow us, and make us continually to be given to all good works; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen. (BCP 183)