Out with Grate Patrol feeding and clothing the homeless in D.C.

Right before sunrise this morning, I arrived at the St. Paul Parish in Washington D.C. and met with the Grate Patrol.  We broke off into two groups and took routes into D.C. to feed the homeless. It was really touching asking the names of those we gave to and wishing them a great day. I felt a spiritual connection even though we had only just met. Some of the homeless called out for specific church members that had been fed through the years. It was a huge learning experience and I hope that this inspires others to join me next time!

Her favorite jacket was the black one! Thanks to all those who gave!

I was able to personally give out several bags of clothes that I had collected over the past month which was so special. Thank you to everybody who donated!

Thank you for everything today, Glenn! You taught me so much!

Grate Patrol has provided uninterrupted weekend breakfast distribution to the homeless for 24 years. Every Saturday and Sunday morning, two cars deliver hundreds of healthy breakfasts for people living on the streets of Washington, DC.

My 1st Holy Communion with Father Paul!

There with me was Monsignor Paul  Dudziak from the St. Stephen Martyr Catholic Church who I have known almost my whole life.  Words have no power describing what Monsignor Paul Dudziak has meant to my family and I growing up. He blessed me with my 1^st Holy Communion, Confirmation and Baptized me along with all 5 of my sisters during his time at Jesus the Good Shepard in Owings, Maryland.

If you are ever interested in volunteering with the church  they have a variety of ways to make a positive difference and share your heart with the world that is patiently waiting for you. Or, if you want to join the church or find your faith call them, it could change your life.  Learn more here.

“Then Jesus declared, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never go hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.” John 6:35

St. Scholastica from the San Luca Polyptych, Andrea Montegna. 1453-1454. Pinacoteca di Brera, Milan.

Today our Eastern Orthodox and Catholic brothers and sisters celebrate the life of a very unique and interesting woman:  Scholastica.  She is celebrated as a virgin of the church and the first Benedictine Nun.  The latter is fitting since she was the twin sister of Benedict of Nursia, from whom we have The Rule of St. Benedict and the Benedictine order of monks.

The gospel reading chosen for the feast of St. Scholastica is Luke 10:38-42 where Jesus enters the house of Mary and Martha…and perhaps the story is somewhat familiar to many of you:  Martha, who is busy with tending to all of the things that one has to do when a visitor arrives, comes bustling up to Jesus and demands that her sister come and help her with the preparations.  Jesus responds saying, “‘Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.’” (Luke 10:41-42)

And perhaps this is a fitting reading for St. Scholastica who founded a monastery that we believe used her brother’s Rule.  The Rule of St. Benedict is based on two key principals of Christian communal life according to St. Benedict.  In Latin they are “ora et labora,” or, “pray and work.”  And we see both actions in the lives of Mary and Martha in the gospel passage from Luke.

But I wonder how much like Martha we can be…”worried and distracted by many things.” (Luke 10:41)  How often do we let the crush of the various events, schedules, meetings, appointments, and all the rest of the “work” that is our lives ride roughshod over the need we have as Christians to sit at the feet of Jesus and listen as Mary did in the passage from Luke?  And how much more wonderful is it when those two activities are merged into one–where we feel that the work we do is a form of prayer to God?

Since I have arrived here at St. Alban’s, almost seven months ago, I have marveled at and delighted in the breadth and depth of the ministries that this parish undertakes.  There are so many opportunities to engage the gospel and live into our baptismal covenant (see The Book of Common Prayer page 304-5).  One of those ministries will happen this evening as our Rite 13 young people prepare and distribute food to the homeless as part of the Grate Patrol ministry.  You might be interested to know that last week that Ms. Tina (Florence) E. Mallett–manager of Grate Patrol–was recognized by Virginia Seminary for her “leadership and unique witness to the Gospel of Jesus Christ.”

I would urge us all to find those moments in our lives when we are playing the dual role of both Mary and Martha.  When we find ourselves doing the work of the Kingdom or when we find that the work we do is a form of prayer to God we are partaking in these Mary-Martha moments.  Let us notice when those valuable Mary-Martha moments occur in our lives and recognize that in those moments we are moving closer in our relationship with God.

Yours in Christ,

St. Martin and the Beggar. Simone Martini, painted 1317-1319. Fresco. Montefiore Chapel, Lower Church, San Francesco, Assisi, Italy.

Martin’s early life was spent in the service of the Roman army until, after traveling throughout Europe he decided to live near Poitiers in France to be close to the bishop of Poitiers whom he admired, Hilary.  It is said that one day while he was still a pagan, and in training to become baptized–also known as being a catechumen–he was stopped by a poor old man who begged for alms from Martin in the name of Jesus Christ.  According to the historian Sulpicius Severus,  Martin took out his sword and cut off part of his military cloak and gave it to the old man.  The next night Jesus appeared to Martin, garbed in the same half-cloak that Martin had cut off, saying to the angels: “Here is Martin, a simple catechumen, an unbaptized Roman Soldier, who has covered me with this garment.”

Years later, the saint’s cloak would be carried into battles by Merovingian and Frankish kings.  Oaths would be sworn on it.  After Charlemagne gave his royal villa to the monks of Saint-Denis a priest was charged with caring for the cloak in its reliquary.  The priest had the title of cappelanu, and over time all priests who served in the military were called cappellani.  The French translation of this word is chapelains, from where we get the English word chaplain.

The gospel reading for Martin of Tours is Matthew 25:34-40:

³⁴Then the king will say to those at his right hand, “Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; ³⁵for 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, ³⁶I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.” ³⁷Then the righteous will answer him, “Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink?³⁸And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? ³⁹And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?” ⁴⁰And the king will answer them, “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.”

How often do we stop and consider giving the beggar on the street some money?  How many times in our lives do we simply look the other way, or refuse to see the faces of those in our city–and even in our neighborhood–who are homeless, hungry and ill-clothed for the coming colder weather?

Tonight the Rite 13 class, along with several of their parents, their adult leaders and I will make over 150 sandwiches, assemble over 150 bagged lunches.  The contents of the bagged lunches, along with the over 20 pounds of chicken pasta salad that will accompany the meals are produced by volunteers of this parish.  They are distributed by the youth of St. Alban’s to homeless men and women around D.C. the first Friday of each month as a part of the Salvation Army’s Grate Patrol project.  Each month Grate Patrol serves more than 3,000 of D.C.’s homeless, delivering food, and fellowship every night of the year.  It is one of dozens of ministries that happen here at St. Alban’s that put into real action the Gospel of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

As we think about and are so very thankful for the sacrifices that have been made for our country and indeed our freedom, remember the compassion and generosity that another veteran made over 1,600 years ago.  If you would like to participate in Grate Patrol, or any of the other ministries that help to feed the hungry, provide shelter for the homeless, clothes for those without, care for those who are sick or in prison, or welcome the stranger come and talk with any member of the clergy or vestry.  While perhaps we cannot eliminate poverty or hunger or homelessness with just our own seemingly small efforts, we can make a difference in all whom we serve and we might just be met by the face of Christ.

In Christ’s most holy name,

This is something my husband, son and I have done off and on for years, as part of a church ministry. My son first went out when he was eight years old.

One of my fellow volunteers has written an account of the evening on his blog, so I won’t try and tell the story again; I’ll simply encourage you to read it.

Dennis is correct that, according to my husband and me, this was not a normal night on a Grate Patrol run. The two major differences were that there were fewer homeless people out (and he was right, the city had been swept in an advance of this weekend’s festivities) and that we were serving out of a small car rather than a large van. Perhaps a third difference was that, at times, we were serving in heavy rain and lightning.

Recently, I was reading the newsletter of the Georgetown Ministry Center, another organization that helps the District’s homeless. In the most recent issue, GMC’s executive director, who always provides an informed view into homelessness that few of us have, addressed the perception of homelessness. This struck me. Throughout the past few weeks, I’ve picked the piece up and read it, and re-read it, wondering how I might share it with people who have varying perceptions and views about homelessness.

I feel his perspective merits consideration:

I once heard a young woman walking down M Street say, “They have a lot of bums here.”

Bums? These bums are our failure. They are people with complicated mental illness who have no insight into their condition. They are brothers, sisters, uncles, nieces, and sons and daughters. They are people with broken brains who should no more be wandering the streets on their own than a six-year-old.

Our society needs to take responsibility for this problem for all that it is. This is the important point. Those bums are unable to take care of themselves! The laws that govern civil commitment need to be expanded to recognize that someone with an impaired reality is not making a sound judgment when choosing to live on the street and eat from a garbage can. Where it is evident that people are making really bad decisions because of a mental illness or other brain disorder, we need better legal mechanisms to step in and help redirect their lives. Those mechanisms must be sensitive and well thought out and have limits, but we need them if we are going to make an impact on homelessness in our country.

The people under bridges, through all that dirt and shaggy hair and ragged clothes, are human beings disconnected from family and home by mental illness.

-Gunther Stern

Dennis and Gunther are both correct. People arrive at homelessness via many paths. Here in the Washington area, as in other areas, a large number come from severe mental illness. There are many places in the United States where homelessness either doesn’t exist or is invisible, so the people who come from these places, when they visit Washington or other cities, react with shock, fear, denial, disgust or judgment.

Homelessness is not a problem that be solved by any one of us alone or by any single institution. At a minimum, though, we as human beings should be aware that there are other human beings who suffer from things we may never understand. But we’re all human beings.

We started in a little quandary as our volunteer ‘coordinator’ from the Salvation Army, who said she was ‘new’, had not arrived with the regular van: she had not been due to do the driving before, though she had often been part of the feeding arrangements. She asked me if I knew the arrangements. I told her that I had never done this before. She had arrived in her four-door sedan. It was not really equipped to deliver food on the streets of Washington. So, we had to figure out if first we needed her to go back for the van, or if we could somehow get things to work with food in the trunk of her car, and water stacked around us in the car. We thought that would work. We then had to find bowls and spoons; these would usually have come with the van. One of my church friends made a call and then rustled around our church kitchen to find the necessary supplies. So, we were good to go.

As we headed downtown, reticular activation kicked in. All we could notice were the fine homes and fine restaurants that we passed. People dressed finely. People seeming to be happy in their lives. People who seemed to have no cares.

As we arrived at the corner of 6th Street and Constitution Avenue, and the first small group of hungry, homeless people clustered around the car, all I noticed was that the stream of tourists did not notice this as something worth noting. In some senses, homeless people are not very visible, especially when seen in the scattered places where they congregate. Whatever statistics or images one has to look at, the homeless are another minority in the eyes of most people. That makes them easy to ignore. Wherever we stopped we would not be dealing with a big crowd: the one man asleep on a grate was nothing to compare with those on the other side of the street streaming into Constitution Hall for an evening event. Homeless people appeared even less visible this weekend, just ahead of the Memorial Day holiday: the city has been spruced up and some of the places where they congregate, such as the small parks or squares, had been cleared.

As we went to each known feeding point, we found small groups glad to take the sandwiches, pasta salad and water we had to offer. I was not trying to analyse who the people were. Yes, they were mainly men. Yes, they appeared to be older. But, there were some women, and even one with a two-year old child. It was hard to keep back the tears, as the little girl took the bowl of pasta, raised her braided head and smiled. “I told you we would get something to eat,” her mother (I presume) said, as she took two bottles of water to put into her bag. One of my church friends could not hold back her tears, and I hugged her, while her husband found another sandwich to give to the mother.

As we drove around, we discussed how in some way each homeless person we would encounter had fallen through a gap, whether it was one they created for themselves or somehow circumstances had created. I was not trying to judge. We were not out trying to solve homelessness, just trying to deal with one of its effects. That people had found themselves in such a situation was both sad and maddening. Blame the individual? Blame society? Blame bad luck? Blame bad choices?

It is redundant to say that the people we tried to feed are in need. They need in so many ways. Some expressed their needs: for clothes; for blankets; for medical help; for counselling. But, needs expressed and help offered need not meet happily. It would make some bristle with immense anger that someone in need of clothes would not take anything that was offered. One man we met, seated alone on a bench in a park, had fallen earlier in the day and his knee was swollen. His biggest fear was of having to go to the hospital, and his main concern was that the rain had soaked the only clothes he seemed to have. Although he could not walk, he hoped the swelling would go down in the morning. He did not seem moved by our concern that should go for immediate medical help. The coordinator promised to go back to see him later in the night and take him to the hospital. I could see his eyes widen in fear. It added to the sadness and sense of helplessness that we could not get him to share our sense of his need.

The evening’s experience made me think about how social policy in a broad sense can only be about how you deal with each individual. It is not necessarily about providing financial or physical resources to help deal with a problem, but can be much about finding the patience and persuasiveness to make progress with those who are in the midst of the problem. That is a daunting challenge, not least because as one ‘success’ is achieved the door opens to let in another ‘failure’. It is much easier to turn the page and move on than to think about having to deal with that.

One night of handing out food has not changed the world–and it was not meant to do so. I could not avoid thinking of the story of Sisyphus, from Greek mythology, and how he had to roll a boulder up a hill, only to watch it roll back down, and to repeat this throughout eternity. More groups will be out tonight distributing food to the homeless.

I try to inspire myself by saying that life is not about problems but about challenges to overcome.