Why do we not weep?
A middle-aged hispanic woman curls up in an urban alleyway on a crisp October night; her coats and blankets can’t quite keep her warm, but the vent on the building beside her blows warm air. The building beside her is magnificent, of stone and great wooden doors: a church. Inside, darkness shrouds rows of padded pews. But the church remains empty, doors locked, waiting for Sunday.
20 October 2004 |
tags: Miscellaneous
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I met a homeless woman on October 3. She was not middle aged despite her appearance. It was the hardness of life which had hardened her face. But the church where I worshiped was not closed to her that day or any day. She slept there and ate there. When I met her, after we had taken communion together, her first words were, “The grass around [the statue of] St. Francis needs to be trimmed. I’ll be back this afternoon to make the garden look nice.” In her face I saw the love of Christ. The Episcopal Christ Church Cathedral in Springfield, Massachusetts, is doing something for the homeless. More churches should.
Indeed, quite a few churches are opening their doors to the homeless—I saw many immediately after I wrote this, while spending a weekend in Philadeplhia.