I recently came back across this poem by Jack Agueros that I had read in high school. It fits beautifully with what we tried to search for on our pilgrimage.

Sonnet for Heaven Below

No, it wasn’t Macondo, and it wasn’t Calcutta in time past
But subway magic turned the tunnels into Beautyrest mattresses
And plenty of God’s children started sleeping there. Some
Were actually Angels fatigued from long hours and no pay.

~Jack Agueros

Hey all,

Here’s a link to some of the many, many photos I took this trip! Hope y’all enjoy.

Our tour of Wall Street was an interesting juxtaposition to our immersion in Harlem.  The conversation we had with successful stock market investor, gave me a different perspective as to business’ contribution to the betterment of society.  The investor has decided to give 100% of his future company profits to charity, specifically social entrepreneurship.  He has looked into charity organizations like Doctors without Borders and Transparency International which counteracts political corruption hindering economic development in third world countries.  At his career level, the investor explained, business is like a video game – people just work to earn the highest score possible; the value of money doesn’t matter so much.  It’s crazy to think what could be done with the money when given to people who actually depend on every dime for survival.

When asked why he’s doing what he’s doing, the investor explained that he wants to contribute to something that’s sustainable and leave the world a better place than when he entered it.  The investor’s lack of faith is another driving factor in his charity.  He says he believes in making his life meaningful “because I don’t believe in a higher justice”.  This helps me understand why so many social activists/humanitarians are atheist.  They have found life meaning outside of religion because ultimately, in their minds, we are the world’s only saving grace.  It was inspiring to hear the investor’s ambitions to make the world a better place.  I think we all, whether Christian or not, can benefit from his perspective.

The investor uses his privilege to help the poor – an overarching message reinforced on the pilgrimage.  The fact that we were able to fly out to New York for this trip at all, speaks of our financial privilege.  Yet I learned on this trip that it isn’t about “us” and “them” (the homeless).  Our differences do not need to separate us apart.  I learned on this trip how easily one can fall into the same unfortunate circumstances.  Homelessness, for many, is only an injury, an illness, a decreased paycheck, or a failed relationship away.  Estimates of 1.5 to 3.5 million people are homeless annually, about 1% of the U.S. population.  Even this fact underestimates, since it’s based on the number utilizing social service providers.  Homelessness is more common than I originally had thought.

Before this trip my perception of homeless people was generalized – a stereotype based on the scruffy pan-handler on the street corner who holds a sign and utters nonsense.  Since my direct experience and immersion within Harlem, I see homelessness in a new light.  I realize how complex the issue is, the various contributing reasons it exists, and the diversity within the homeless population.  Though factors like the rise in affordable housing and increased poverty seem beyond our control, there is still a lot we can do to better conditions for the homeless.  Learning about the extent of it is a start.  Getting involved with food banks, soup kitchens, social services is another way in which we can help.  But mostly, respect for the poor and homeless is the most valuable thing I’ve taken from this trip.   After having experienced it firsthand, I better understand the gospel message.  And now that I’ve gained insight, I can act on it, living a Christian life of purpose.  I look forward to sharing my experiences and insight with others.  More importantly, I look forward to doing what I can in regards to poverty and homelessness on the home-Tfront.  This a national issue that needs addressing – and it starts with us.

Wednesday, March 25, 2010 (11:30 PM)

I am writing this blog from the Quality Inn in Phoenix. My flight was first transferred from JFK airport to Newark because of “air traffic” issues and the fact that I would miss my connection in Phoenix. See the punch line yet? The Newark plane was itself 3 hours delayed, causing me to miss the connection anyway. Yet for all my annoyance and inconvenience, I can’t help feeling utterly grateful to get to go home at all. After this week-long pilgrimage, how can I gripe about getting a free hotel room for the night all to myself, and a flight out first thing in the morning, all (eventually) taken care of by the airline?

It reminds me of what a wise leader on our trip once mentioned: I am exceedingly lucky to have connections, to be part of a network, a grid of fibers interwoven and acting as a buoy system when we fall. The select group of homeless people we have been studying have fallen through this support grid and have no one—family, friends, sometimes even the government—to turn to in crisis. I thank God for giving me the resources to bounce back onto my feet after minor hassles, to have a functional system to catch me when I fall.

I realize now that it’s a lost cause to want to empathize with the homeless. Eating the same food for one meal or perhaps sleeping on the street for a night will not give me the right to say I know what anyone else is experiencing on a daily basis. “Privilege” is a word that has been tossed around a lot this week. But what does it mean? Your household socioeconomic status? Race? Gender? Number of relations/friends? Amount of money in the bank account? I s’pose, in sum, it’s the amount of resources available to one at a given time. I’m blessed to be on the higher end of the spectrum.

This has been such a thought-provoking experience: more reflections to come later. For now, sweet sleep. And then, through God’s grace, home.

I’ll forever cherish the conversations I had with “guests” at Holy Apostle’s soup kitchen today.  Eugene was an African-American army vet who sat next to me at the lunch table.  Unaware of my role as a “volunteer”, we started conversing as equals.  Small talk about the meal and the best place to get a soup kitchen lunch in the area (Holy Apostles voted unanimously as the best), later evolved into a deep conversation about his life struggle.  Eugene built a trust in me after he noticed me listening to the maundering man – one whom most simply ignored.  Eugene commented on my “spiritual heart and tolerance”.  He started opening up to me about how he got where he is now -  the story was not an easy one for him to tell.  Pained by a messy divorce and separation from his daughter twelve years ago, Eugene recounted the events while his eyes swelled with tears.  The hope that he would one day get to see his daughter again kept his spirits up.  Even though there was little I could do to help in this situation, I helped to the best of my ability by being present to listen.  We made a genuine connection, grateful to have made a friend in one another.

God was very present then and there, though I didn’t realize it until after Eugene left and a new conversation with a guest named Ming ensued.  Ming asked me if I was “a mentor or something”.  Chuckling, I denied, still trying to keep a low profile as a volunteer.  The conversation naturally steered towards the topic of God and the bible.  Ming was telling me about his recent revelation in his faith: “We all need to serve each other”.  His own ministry, as he explained, was serving as a translator (both linguistically and culturally) between an older generation of Asian immigrants and American society.  The message that Ming took from his bible study was a reminder to us both.  It was nice to hear that we are all working towards following Jesus’ example, no matter where we are in our walk in life.

In addition to my admiration of the guests, I was impressed by the operations of the program.  Holy Apostle’s partnership with other organizations contribute to the project’s impact.  A chiropractor, medical van, and even therapy dogs visit regularly.  New York Cares donates 400 coats annually.  Altogether, these additional organizations create an environment that the underprivileged don’t have otherwise.  I can see why Holy Apostle’s is so successful in it’s operation – keeping the average number of 60 volunteers coming back day in and day out.  As most can testify, myself included, the rewards of serving one another are mutual.  It is what God calls us to do that also brings joy.

Monday, March 22, 2010 (8 PM)

I have never experienced anything quite like today’s outreach to Holy Apostles, which was remodeled into a full-fledged soup kitchen after the church was badly burned in the early 1980’s. Every day this amazing facility opens as early as 8 AM to start setting up. When we arrived there at 8:30, just in time for a simple morning prayer service, there were already a few individuals seated at the dozen tables set up with chairs around the sanctuary. It would become full to bursting when the church opened its doors for the actual meal—the kitchen serves an average of 1200 meals per day. EVERY day of the year. And today we got an intimate look into how they operate from a volunteer and a guest perspective.

My first task was to be a floor volunteer, keeping track of people’s table supplies and keeping the area clean: similar to what I’ve done as a waitress for Elks Club banquets in my own town. I also tried to be as welcoming and upbeat as I could while working, asking our guests how their days were going. Most of them responded politely, returning the greeting with a smile. Some were more ostentatious—one man who called himself “Wall Street” was even conversing (and/or flirting) animatedly with all the floor servers, including me.

But the most inspiring and eye-opening part of the day happened when I was in the shoes of a guest myself: I went very quickly through the smooth-operating line, grabbing a tray of meat with macaroni, veggies, fruit and bread, and chose a seat at a random table. Tyson, a kind man with a Jamaican accent who had seen me patrolling as a volunteer, immediately pulled up a chair beside me and he chatted to me all about his travels and family (he even showed a picture of his twin nephews, whom he feels obligated to protect despite his living situation). A couple in their 20s sat on the other side, complaining angrily about the Dept. of Homeless Services and their recent apartment evictions, as well as the food quality. It took a bit of salt and pepper, but the food was good and monitored by dieticians who made sure the nutrition content was enough to last for 24 hours.

Later, I talked to a man who was employed and on his way to his truck-driving job. We talked about all the places he’d been and we shared in common, hitting it off very well. In fact, most of the people I spoke with had traveling in common; two were from military families. And amazingly, all but two mentioned that they were college graduates. It really was a shock to my senses, because it was one of my unconscious assumptions that all of these people must not have even been able to afford college, perhaps even graduate high school. What a challenge to my assumptions of MY options as a post-grad….

Holy Apostles members describe themselves as “a place of humanity, compassion, and dignity,” and they hit the nail on the head. Steve, who coordinates the operation, described it as a place where people could get away to be normal for a little while: to have talks about politics, chit-chat about rainy weather, flirt with waitresses. Y’know, the usual. The entire place is set up like a restaurant, where people can theoretically relax and enjoy a good hot sit-down meal; it even has the same health code standards. The regular volunteers, Steve especially, are incredibly dedicated to their roles, truly putting all of their love and passion into their work. It’s easy to see why: I felt like a social magnet the entire time I was engaging with these individuals, and I was amazed how energized and just plain good I felt after the experience.

During the service at St. Mark’s-in-the-Bowery, I was reminded of the diversity of the Epsicopalian church. The worship was really pull-ed off well, very theatircal, a southern twist thrown on the usual hymns. The beauty and symbolgy of this service, and so many liturgies does I think help remind us of the beauty of God, and how….. we can find peace and beauty in life if we take the time to seek God.

Having church outside was great. I have been to church services in parks and outside before, but being to a liturgical serivice in the park like that was something very special, and for me seeing the pigeons and ancient oak trees and hearing the ancient words of the mass made the experience quiet vibrant for me. I know some of the kids in our group griped a bit at all those people from oklahoma showing up in those silly yellow Tshirts. Personally, I thought it was really neat to see young people our age wearing obnoxiously bright shirts saying ‘I JC’. For sure, the shirts were dorky and perhaps pointless, but I’m always glad to see other young people who seem to be in love with Jesus, or at least to be hella proud to be Christians. I know that I always struggle with being proud to be a Christian.

Today we had a chance to literally obey Jesus’ command to “Feed my sheep!” (John 21:17): we spent the first part of our day working in Church of the Holy Apostles’ soup kitchen. Over the course of two hours we helped serve hot lunches to 1,100 of New York City’s citizens who in many cases otherwise wouldn’t have been able to eat today.

Steve, the director of the soup kitchen, arranged for us to get an inside look at the typical guest experience (the term they use for the patrons of the kitchen is “guest”) by allowing we eight pilgrims to actually go through the line and eat our lunch with the guests.

I was in the first group to go. While four of our group stayed inside to help serve, I and three others headed out into the misty day to explore lunchtime as a guest of Holy Apostles. The line of people waiting to be served literally wrapped around the block, but only took about ten or fifteen minutes to get through. Once inside, I accepted a tray laden with meat and noodle casserole, vegetables, bread, and a banana. I was ushered through the kitchen door into the dining room.

Holy Apostles is unlike any ministry I’ve ever been involved with: their commitment to their soup kitchen inspired them to, after their sanctuary was gutted by a fire several decades ago, re-imagine the space as an eating area that serves as a worship space only sundays. The walls are set with beautiful stained glass windows, framed by majestic stone arches, but instead of pews the space is full of round tables arranged on a practical tile floor. This dining room is an extension of the alter, a physical representation of the familiar metaphor of “God’s Table,” which we gather around during Holy Communion.

So I picked a table towards the front of the church and prepared myself to commune. The first few minutes were quiet as the men seated at the table around me ate with their eyes directed only at their food. As they finished and left, different and more talkative guests replaced them and soon the table was busy with conversation. I heard one man’s memory of September 11th (the force from impact from seven blocks away knocked him off a retaining wall he was working on), another’s complaints about New York’s sales and cigarette taxes, and a third man’s description of his childhood home in Peru. I ended my meal with a conversation with a man about the many virtues of New York. “We got that upfront-ness, you know? We’re honest. We know we’ve got the best city in the world,” followed by an extensive list of recommendations of ways to spend my remaining free time in the city.

His genuine interest in my experience and his love of his community were nothing short of inspiring. As he left, he said, “You take care of yourself now, ok? God bless.” To be able to give of yourself like that seemed a shining example of Christ-like love. The Bible is full of important scenes that center around a meal (yesterday’s reading, for one obvious example, or the feeding of the five thousand) for the simple reason that taking time to satiate basic needs together is a life-affirming experience.

What a day. Physically,  I was under the weather. Literally, the weather was less than perfect. In fact, it was the first day of rain since we began our pilgrimage 4 days ago. Today we ended up in Chelsea at Holy Apostles Church. It was nice we had the opportunity to meet Steve, the Executive Director of the Soup Kitchen, yesterday during the outdoor church service. We began our day of service with worship and then prepared to serve meals to the visitors / clients of the Soup Kitchen. Yesterday during the debriefing that followed the service at the Cathedral, issues of race, class and demographics began to surface. Conversations and issues of privilege appeared to make must of us uncomfortable. Although it was clearly not intened to be conversations geared towards race and class (but homelessness), language appeared to translate words such as  rich and poor, have and have nots to black and white.  I only assumed this stemmed from the demographics of the homeless population who attended the outdoor church. However today, I couldn’t help but recognize the high number of people color especially men of African American descent who were homeless.  Today we also discussed grounding our blogs in philosphy and theology. In many cases, racial differences in achievement are part of a complex interaction with (and attributed to ) differences in background and culture  (Oakes, 2005). At the same time residual effects of slavery result in issues of discrimation and racism which make it difficult for people to overcome obstacles. As an educator, I couldn’t help but wonder what role education might play in this dynamic. It appeared to me that education in the United States is a major contributor to homelessness  “because education in this country is delivered through school districts based on residence, and residence is based largely on wealth, the structure of schooling is in America is inseparable from the structure of class…As a result, children in affluent (predominantly white) districts receive a better education than do children in poor (disproportionately minority) districts, and children in this country do not approach adulthood with anything like an equal chance to pursue their dreams” (Hochschild & Scovronick, 2003). So there are the poor, those from humble beginnings and then there are people with no residence and no foundation on which to pursue their dreams. The high school volunteers were wonderful and I think it is safe to assume that they were from affluent school districts. I’m also assuming the Soup Kitchen  doesn’t get many youth / high school groups from the Manhattanville Housing Projects to do service work. I’m grounding this assumption to my outreach experience. In many cases, youth from neighboorhoods similar to Manhattanville and St. Mary’s know the depth of homelessness and poverty  in ways which probably do not require an immersion experience in a neighborhood Soup Kitchen.  There goes that word (Neighbor) again. It keeps popping up for me. It is interesting that in many low income neighborhoods- people who reside there remove the word neighbor from the geographical location and merely designate it as the “hood”. Where are their good neighbors? Who is passing them by? I also noticed a large number of the people  at the Soup Kitchen today didn’t appear to be homeless but merely in need of additional resources. Then there were people who served in the military as well as the elderly. I wonder why as a country, we can’t figure out better ways to help the elderly and veterans who risk their lives so every person in this country can enjoy some level of  freedom. We all spoke of privilege over the past couple of days. I couln’t help but think of the privilege that I had to go home, get dry, deal with my illness and chose something I wanted to eat as soon as I left Holy Apostles. The concept of privilege is so complicated. I realize that I have it and at the same time I worked really hard to obtain it. I didn’t inherit privilege. I worked for it (as did many of us) and I’m still often subjected to labels and stereotypes that undermind the thingss I worked so hard for. How does one measure privilege? What does or should this look like? I found myself  looking to see if I saw the face of God in the faces of the people I was serving and engaging with today. TO BE CONTINUED…………….

We started the morning with a nice morning prayer at Holly Apostles church and the fun part was about to begin.  Holy Apostles Soup Kitchen is the major outreach program in Chelsea since 1982. It serves over 1,200 hot meals everyday.  I had the opportunity to interact with the people who where there to eat and as a volunteer.  I started by making line to get food like anyone else that was there to eat. In the waiting line I meet Ron, he was there to eat some food because he was in the area. He told me he had a part time job and was just there to get lunch. Ron said he had been in the Holy Apostle Soup kitchen before and really appreciated the support given to people in need. I talked to other people as well and they all had a part time job but they were underpaid and had to eat some place. The interaction with people was the best because I was able to learn about them and not make an assumption about why they were there. It helped me think about how blessed I am with the things I have and how I get things that I do not need.  I also started thinking about how my perception of the people who attend places like the Soup Kitchen was wrong. I use to think that people who went to these places where people who did not do anything and were just lazy.  The majority of the people who I talked to had jobs but needed more money to buy food.  It was great that I was able to understand what their situation was and to learn more about people who go to places like the Soup Kitchen. I had the opportunity to ask a few people why they volunteered. One older gentleman said that “it was the right thing to do.” I asked him why? He said that he had been very blessed in his life and that he wanted to give something back.  I had the opportunity to talk to a young lady and she said that she enjoyed working there. Over all it was a great experience that really made me connect with other people that I might not talk to on a daily basis. There are so many different people that go to places like the Soup Kitchen and it is important not to assume why they are there, it is more important to ask them and why not have a conversation with them.