Tag: christianity

I Thirst

Posted on by petegath

As I arrived at Manna House a guest said, “Could you get me some water? I’m really thirsty.” He along with a few others were waiting for me to open the gate to the front yard. They are the early arrivers, hoping to get on the shower list.  

The heat and humidity have been unrelenting the past few weeks. Guests arrive exhausted, drenched in sweat, thirsty. The numbers of guests who come early is increasing.

Though it’s well over an hour before the morning hospitality will begin, I go into the house and get a pitcher of cold water and some cups. When I return to the porch everyone is delighted to get a drink. Several ask for and receive refills. It only takes a few minutes, but the relief on the faces of the guests is obvious. A drink of cold water will make their wait a bit more tolerable.

Once Manna House is open, we have a water cooler in the backyard. It empties quickly as thirsty guests drink cup after cup of water. We will refill this five-gallon cooler three or four times before the morning is over. 

Water. The Bible is filled with references to water. For the biblical writers living in semi-arid lands, water is precious. Water for them, as for us, is life. 

In Psalm 23, the Bible speaks of water as signifying God’s presence. 

The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing.

    He makes me lie down in green pastures,

he leads me beside quiet waters,

    he refreshes my soul.

The Bible sees the provision of water as a provision made by God. When Hagar and Ishmael are near death in the desert, God provides water (Genesis 21:8-21). In the Exodus story as the people of Israel move through the desert, they thirst, and God provides water (Exodus 17). Isaiah the prophet often uses water to symbolize the care God has for God’s people, “For I will pour water on the thirsty land, and streams on the dry ground; I will pour out my Spirit on your offspring, and my blessing on your descendants” (Isaiah 44:3, see also 49:10, 58:11). In the prophet Amos, water symbolizes the full coming of God’s justice, “Instead, let justice flow like a stream, and righteousness like a river that never goes dry” (Amos 5:4).

When Jesus on the cross says, “I thirst,” the violence of his execution is intensified by his need for life giving water (John 19:28). Those who stood by and mocked him did not bring him water to drink. They give him vinegar. Earlier in his life Jesus taught, “Whatever you do unto the least of these you do unto me,” and he identified with those who need water, “I was thirsty, and you gave me something to drink” (Matthew 25:31-46). 

Our guests thirst because water is hard to come by on the streets. Like Jesus’ executioners mocking him as he thirsts, businesses respond to those crucified on the streets by posting, “Restrooms for customers only.” Water in our society is a commodity reserved for those who can pay. As a city we have very few public water fountains, and they typically do not work. Memphis, like most major cities, is not hospitable to people on the streets. 

In the Book of Revelation, a vision is shared in which water fulfills God’s healing of the whole creation. Water is redemptive. 

Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb through the middle of the street of the city; also, on either side of the river, the tree of life with its twelve kinds of fruit, yielding its fruit each month. The leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations (Revelation 22:1-2).

In contrast to this joyous vision of life-giving water, there is the angry and hateful rhetoric of today’s rulers who reject the joy of God’s reign. Their politics of scarcity and fear cannot imagine a world in which we share basic goods like water. Instead, for them everything has a price. The cash nexus determines all human relationships. 

After I had served water to the guests on the front porch, I went back into the house to set up for the morning’s hospitality. I was thankful. The thirsty guests had invited me into the joy of God’s reign. As I shared cold water with them on a hot morning, I sensed the loving, liberating, and life-giving presence of God. God had brought me to the water.

Epiphany

Posted on by petegath

Morning prayer begins, “O God, you are my God, I watch for you from the dawn. My soul thirsts for you, my body longs for you” (Psalm 63:1). As I pray, I hear guests arrive on the front porch. The morning is bitterly cold. A north wind cuts through clothing, touching the soul. On this Epiphany morning, no star is visible above, only grey clouds. 

The Magi sought the Christ child. What do I seek? What do our guests seek? I dare to think we seek some of the same things. On a dark and cold morning, we seek warmth and light. And we seek welcome, a place where we can be at ease, share stories, laugh, be ourselves. God knows we share a humanity, made in God’s image, but also wounded, broken, that image tarnished. So across divides and differences, we seek wholeness, a healing for our sin sick souls. We seek welcome.

Epiphany speaks to me this morning about the journey to find God in my life. To live into Epiphany I need to become conscious of God’s presence. Like the Magi, I need to recognize divine presence in something ordinary and yet extraordinarily joyous. For the Magi, that is a newborn baby, the Christ child. That child as a grown up tells me that I will find him in the hungry, the thirsty, the stranger, the naked, the sick and the imprisoned (Matthew 25:31-46). 

This morning I found Christ in George who needed a new coat. He was fresh out of jail. The coat he had was not returned to him when he was released. When he tried on the coat he said, “This will do me fine; very fine.” At Manna House, in the ordinary offering of a coat to a guest, I suddenly felt an extraordinary joy. 

Something coalesced for me this morning that I had not found throughout Advent, nor on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day. I found Christ in this home. This is not my home, nor the home of the guests. Rather, in this place I find welcome as I also offer welcome. It is Christ’s home. 

Maybe this is the spirit of Epiphany. The Magi with their gifts welcomed Christ as they were welcomed into Christ’s home. As Matthew tells the story, this hospitality quickly came to an end. Herod already sought the death of the newborn. And the Magi had to leave by a different route to avoid Herod. But for a moment there was hospitality in this home, the sharing of welcome, offered in joyous resistance to a world hellbent on death.

I was asked in a conversation later this same day, “Where do you find home?” Where is a place for me of love, of acceptance, of welcome, of rest, of deep emotional and spiritual ease? I am still pondering that question. But I also know I found home in a moment of Epiphany this morning. Warmth, light, welcome was shared; there was extraordinary joy against the grey and the cold.

Mercy shall triumph over judgment (James 2:13)

Posted on by petegath

A guest asked what he should do about a spider bite. Where he was bitten is not healing. It is red and infected. He did not want to see a doctor. “I had my fill of doctors. I cared for my parents when they were dying. Being around doctors raises up all sorts of hard memories. I just can’t be around doctors.”

He couldn’t show Kathleen and I the spider bite. “It’s in a sensitive area,” he said, looking down. 

“Is there a way I could get some antibiotics without seeing a doctor? I’ve tried antibiotic creams. They aren’t working.” 

Sleeping outside, under a bridge, in an abandoned building, or in some wooded area, spider bites happen. This on top of mosquitoes, flies, and rats.

Kathleen suggested the Christ Community Clinic down the street at Catholic Charities. “You might not even see a doctor; you might see a Physician’s Assistant. You do really need to get that looked at and get some treatment.”

A new guest showed up with an orthopedic boot on his foot. He wore a paper hospital suit and still had the medical ID bracelet on his wrist. “I got discharged this morning. I’ve got a plan. Don’t worry, I’m going to be ok.”

A long-term guest wandered the yard talking into the air, or maybe with herself. When she came up for “socks and hygiene” I could hear snippets of her conversation. Though what I heard did not make much sense, it was clear that anything she suggested was being rejected by the voices she heard.

Earlier, during my morning prayer, I read from the Letter of James, “Speak and act as those who are going to be judged by the law that gives freedom, because judgment without mercy will be shown to anyone who has not been merciful. Mercy triumphs over judgment” (James 2:12- 13).

Our guests, it seems, experience a lot more judgment than mercy. 

And sometimes I am part of the problem. When I practice hospitality at Manna House, I make judgments. Last week I judged that a guest had cut the line for the shower list. I asked him to go to the back of the line. He didn’t take it so well, grabbed the clipboard from my hands where I was recording names for the shower list, and threw it across the porch. I judged again and asked him to leave.

Then the other morning, as I worked the “socks and hygiene” table, I saw a guest whose name had not been called standing by the shirts. I asked him to get on the list and not stand by the shirts. As he walked away, I saw a shirt in his hand. I judged he had taken a shirt and asked him to give it back and wait for his turn. He threw the shirt at me and stalked off. 

And I am part of all sorts of judgments in our practice of hospitality. Only twenty people can get on the shower list. We stop doing “socks and hygiene” at 10:00 a.m. We have limited hours.

How then can I hope to practice James’ call for mercy to triumph over judgment? Maybe I reflect mercy when I listen and offer encouragement about suggestions for getting treatment for a spider bite. Maybe I offer mercy when I listen to the story of the man in the boot. Maybe I share mercy when I wait for a guest to let the voices stop enough so she can still select some hygiene items and get a shirt. Maybe I practice of mercy when I show up every Monday and Thursday and help provide hospitality. Maybe. 

At the end of the day, I have to hope that God’s mercy triumphs over judgment more consistently than mine does.

These Shoes Take On Water

Posted on by petegath

The heavy rains Wednesday night soaked our guests. So, they arrived Thursday morning looking bedraggled. One guest, who had a tracheotomy long ago and cannot speak, handed me a slip of paper with this written request, “Can I get a pair of tennis shoes? These take on water.”

His request made me think of a Bible story about another night storm (Mark 4:35-41). The disciples and Jesus were on a boat in the Sea of Galilee. A massive storm suddenly developed and “the waves broke over the boat so that it was nearly swamped.” Like our guest’s shoes, that boat was taking on water. Jesus, meanwhile, was asleep on a cushion near the boat’s stern. The disciples cried out to him, “Teacher do you not care that we are perishing?” 

I went to the back room to look for shoes, size ten and a half. Thankfully, the stock of shoes was good today. 

I returned to the living room. The guest calmly tried on the shoes, looked up, and smiled. He gave me a thumbs-up. The shoes were good. He was good. These shoes would not take on water, at least for a few months. I could feel a wave of peace coming from this man. It is not simply that he cannot speak; there is a stillness about him, a center that will not be rocked.

But what about Jesus? Was he sleeping through the storm again? Does he care that there are people on the streets with shoes taking on water? Does he care that our guests are drowning in a whirlpool of chaos? Where is Jesus in this story from Manna House?

I think Jesus was in the quiet guest. Jesus in the Bible story woke up, rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” At this “the wind ceased and there was a dead calm.” Then he asked the disciples a few questions, “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?”

I had come to Manna House this morning still struggling with my little faith. My reading of “All Saints” took me to Peter Maurin born on this date, May 9th, (co-founder of the Catholic Worker Movement along with Dorothy Day). I had marked this date as also the birth of Daniel Berrigan (peace activist/war resister) and Sophie Scholl (resister to the Nazi regime). I found out later it was also the birthday of John Brown (armed resister to slavery). I thought about how I had ended up at Manna House, through a long line of ancestors in the faith. These included those already mentioned, but also, Murphy Davis, Ed Loring (he’s still alive, but a mentor), Fr. Rene McGraw, O.S.B., my parents, my Grandma Weis. Surrounded by this cloud of witnesses, why should I fear, why would my faith be so paltry?

Then came this guest with his worn-out and wet shoes. And his simple written request, “Can I get a pair of tennis shoes? These take on water.” I could see his quiet dignity, his calm in the storm in which he lives, his trust in this place Manna House to be there for him. So, in him, Jesus broke through and asked me to wake up, to not be afraid. He asked me to realize the strength of the faith I have been graciously gifted with from these ancestors in the faith and from guests who give so much, like this man with his note. The rest of the morning, I felt at peace. Maybe I’m taking on less water. Maybe Jesus isn’t asleep.