"You can observe a lot, just by watching."
-- attr. to Yogi Berra
Thanks to my having left my set of keys to the Mission at home, I had a unique opportunity I might not have had if I'd just barged in as I'd intended to: a chance to just sit in Pigeon Park and watch the early morning world unfold. The Downtown East Side can be easily compared to Biblical Samaria, and Pigeon Park to Jacob's Well -- a place where, if you sit there long enough, someone is bound to come up and talk to you.
Actually, no one did come and talk to me, but watching people going back and forth and hearing the sing of the trolley wires as the early buses went by reminded one of the job at hand. MLA Jagrup Brar has just completed a one-month trial of living on a welfare income -- $610 -- and the stark reality that came home to him was the fact that the biggest need in the area is housing. I haven't spoken with him -- all that I've learned from his experience has been what the media have reported -- but it strikes me that he has not become an "activist" in the sense of someone who demands that someone else fix things; rather, that he has a better grasp of the problem and a determination to find a solution.
Finding homes for people is only part of the equation, and I must sometimes seem unwilling to admit that it's any part of the equation at all, when I point out that the real problem is hopelessness. But when you see people wandering through Pigeon Park and up and down Hastings Street and realize that they haven't slept, you realize how important it is and can't help wondering why it's become acceptable to so many people in positions to do something about it.
But -- as MLA Brar would be the first to admit, I'm sure -- there are no pat solutions. The solution is not x-number of housing spaces; and Heaven knows the answer is not in barracks-like shelters and cockroach-ridden "hotels". And at what point do hand-ups become hand-outs?
John and Danilo arrived with the keys, and we set about the Saturday morning opening of The Lord's Rain with a somewhat renewed sense of purpose. Our job is to instill hope in people, keep loving them and through that, drawing them closer to a new life. Give enough people hope and encouragement to reach up instead of reach out, and pretty soon, the question of housing on the Downtown East Side becomes moot.
***
Every so often, we get reminded of what we're up against in The World. A bus shelter in downtown Vancouver (I don't know the exact location) has an advert with the simple but arresting statement, "You sniff markers just to feel alive".
Some sophomoronic cave-dwelling marketing major apparently thought that was a "grabber" and that, in a city where so many lives are destroyed by substance abuse, would be an appropriate advertising statement. It's one of those "watch this space and see what comes next"-style ads, so the name of the advertiser is not displayed. It is, in fact, "The Holiday Initiative" on Facebook, and I'd encourage a boycott.
***
I can't remember if I mentioned this before, but our little two-story walkup has received a unique, if somewhat off-beat, honor. It has been included in the list of "125 Places That Matter", compiled by the Vancouver Heritage Foundation. It's a project the VHF started to mark the 125th anniversary of the founding of the City of Vancouver last year, and they announced that the time that they would lean towards buildings that didn't get much notice elsewhere. Certainly, while 331 Carrall Street has a history, you wouldn't find it on a tourism walking map.
At any rate, the VHF and its selection panel -- which includes blogger Rebecca Bollwitt (Miss604) and SFU Urban Studies Prof. Gordon Price -- agreed about the significance of our brick pile, and a plaque will soon adorn the building. Jessica Quan did the research, and you can find it online. Scroll down the list on the left of the other buildings (and you'll find we're in some pretty cool company) to "Gospel Mission/The Louvre Hotel" and click on that link to find Jessica's piece.
There'll be a plaque installed soon; it would be fair to note that the VHF has been offering sponsorships on these plaques, something we weren't able to do; but all the 125 "places" are getting plaques with or without the sponsorship (and we're not the only un-sponsored place). They're a non-profit organization that does some important work, bringing to mind the heritage and history of a city that is still just a toddler by world standards; with so many people moving here from other parts of the world, it's important that they know where the city has come from as they help take it to wherever it's going. If you can manage it, donations to the VHF would be welcome.
I also pray that people who read that will come and look at this historic building for themselves, and in so doing, see how it's still very much alive and lighting up the neighbourhood.
Of course, people in the Downtown East Side have known Gospel Mission as a "place that matters" since the 1940s, and that makes for an interesting back-story. We have outlasted every other tenant in the immediate area, including some that have been boarded up and one where the entire back wall literally collapsed one night (while we were having a prayer meeting, in fact). Truly, God has had His hand on our building, protecting it and providing for it, so His people can be encouraged, given hope, and gradually drawn closer to Him. At the end of the day, that's what Ministry in this area is all about.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Friday, January 13, 2012
You can't make this stuff up ...
From time to time, I've wondered about making a movie or a TV show about the Downtown East Side. (There was a time, earlier in my life -- about 35 years ago -- when I actually harbored thoughts of being an actor and writer: I got enough paying gigs to make me realize the idea was possible ... but not probable.) The show would be called "Rev. Downtown" (my legion of fan would recognize that as the title of this blog) and it would paint a picture of the DTES as I've seen it over the 8 years that I've been there -- gritty and unpredictable but with the undercurrent of Hope that runs through what we do at Gospel Mission and The Lord's Rain. As I've tried to express over the years, it's not all bad news -- not even close -- despite the image projected by activists and the media.
But what would the script look like? And who would play the characters? It would be a tour de force for an ensemble of character actors: improvising their parts without stereotyping or ridiculing anyone. Maybe Sean Penn (if he can take time out from making politically-correct "statement" movies), Matt Damon, Philip Seymour Hoffman and maybe Donald Sutherland and Graham Greene. And if you tried to write a script, a producer would send it back with orders to come up with something "real".
(Interestingly, that's one of the reasons why I believe the Bible is the Word of God and not (as Peter put it) some cunningly-devised fable: what human could devise it? The more I'd read it, the more I'd hear, "you can't make this stuff up". But I digress.)
Take, for example, the conversations I had at The Lord's Rain on Tuesday morning -- two conversations at the same time. I've joked on occasion that you don't have to be ADD to work at The Lord's Rain, but it helps. Often, someone will start talking to you regardless of whether you're already talking to someone else, so you usually have to tune one ear to the new conversation long enough to analyze whether it's something that can be put on hold until you've finished the current conversation or something vitally important that needs to be dealt with right away.
Compounding the situation this past Tuesday was the fact that the quarterly HST rebates were distributed the day before. (For those of you not in Canada, the government sends an amount each quarter to people on low incomes to compensate (at least in part) for their having to pay the Harmonized Sales Tax.) The rebates are a great idea in theory, but on the DTES, it means more money available to spend on drugs, and by gad, that's what they did on Monday. On Tuesday morning, many of the people were showing the effects and I was caught between two conversations with a newcomer named Vance and Dale, a man I've known since my start at Rainbow Mission in 2004.
Vance was notable for his scrupulous good manners, asking politely and thanking us for coffee, a drink of water, a refill ... but he had also been sitting by himself, deep in conversation with an unseen interlocutor, and occasionally gesturing very broadly -- almost violently. Dale had sat down next to him and he and I started talking about prayer. That's where Vance chimed in, excusing himself for stepping into the conversation.
But Vance's conversation was only semi-coherent, bouncing from one thought to the next like a flea on a hotplate. (My late mother, an actor, was once cast to play a pilot who'd suffered a brain injury in a plane crash. The sentences did not connect one word to the next, and for someone who used mnemonics -- mental images -- to memorize her lines, the challenge of learning this script was enormous. She literally had to memorize them word by word.) There was a common thread through his talking, however: demons and evil spirits. He talked about Jesus with bright shafts of light coming from His face, his own Aztec spiritual ancestry, standing toe-to-toe with the demon Pestilence -- and imitating Pestilence with a stance and facial contortions that made me feel like I was looking at Mr. P right there. Vance also talked about Leviathan (another demon), the Holy Spirit, bright lights and colors and a lot of other things I can't remember.
I sat there -- not frightened -- but fascinated. Interestingly, his talk about the spirit world did not go into things like the New World Order or other worldwide conspiracy theories (others talk about those). It was all about demons and spirits. Had he been part of a cult? Does he walk around constantly thinking these things, or do those thoughts come only when he's on drugs? (And I daresay, it's at moments like that, that I'm praying someone is on drugs! I'm only half-joking.)
All through this, Dale was continuing his conversation. Dale's mind was fried long ago by the lethal combination of mental illness and crack cocaine. He primarily follows a single theme: "I'm alright, aren't I?" He talks very loud and sometimes very fast -- the volume and the speed generally depend on whether he's affected by the street drugs or his own "head" medication has taken effect. At Rainbow Mission, he took great joy in wiping down the pews after the service. "Will you anoint my head with oil," he once asked me, "so I can wipe down the pews and not bring any evil to them?"
I thought I saw signs he was actually improving, but after Rainbow closed at the end of 2006, I didn't see much of him and when he did turn up at Gospel Mission he was in worse shape ... and the descent hasn't really let up. "I'm alright, aren't I? I'm gonna be OK, right? They say they're trying to help me but they don't, you know, they don't ..." (I'm not sure who "they" are: social workers, perhaps, or public health nurses? They probably do their best, but with limited resources, they can only do so much. Try telling that to the patients, though.)
"... I pray, you know," he went on, "... I hold my Bible every night ..."
"Do you read it?" I asked. "Just holding it won't do you any good."
"I should read it more, shouldn't I? I read the Psalms. I should read the Bible more, you're right."
"The Psalms are a good start," I replied. "Build on that."
"Yeah, I can build on that. I read the Psalms years ago. I should read it more, shouldn't I?"
Dale desperately needs validation of his life. Even trying to elicit some kind of criticism for not reading his Bible more reminds him that he's still alive and can still draw closer to God. That is, in fact, a common factor among so many of those on the DTES. That's a big reason why they come into The Lord's Rain: it's become a source of Hope -- that intangible reason for carrying on -- that is in such short supply in the area. And you know what? While it's good that we have staff and supporters who approach people with love and openness, the people themselves have made it what it is.
I think it's because of that, that some situations get resolved when they might have turned ugly. A couple of weeks ago, Danilo and one of the 'regulars' (Joe is his name) got into an argument over something to do with the coffee. The argument escalated to a veiled threat to "take it outside". Joe left ... Danilo was upset that he'd nearly lost control ... John was upset that someone gave Danilo "attitude" over the coffee ... A week later, Joe came in and apologized to Danilo. Danilo apologized for his role in it. End of discussion.
Incidents like that are a good indicator of the success of The Lord's Rain: that people are able to make up after a near dust-up. It's encouraging, and you know something? People need validation -- and sometimes, so do we.
But what would the script look like? And who would play the characters? It would be a tour de force for an ensemble of character actors: improvising their parts without stereotyping or ridiculing anyone. Maybe Sean Penn (if he can take time out from making politically-correct "statement" movies), Matt Damon, Philip Seymour Hoffman and maybe Donald Sutherland and Graham Greene. And if you tried to write a script, a producer would send it back with orders to come up with something "real".
(Interestingly, that's one of the reasons why I believe the Bible is the Word of God and not (as Peter put it) some cunningly-devised fable: what human could devise it? The more I'd read it, the more I'd hear, "you can't make this stuff up". But I digress.)
Take, for example, the conversations I had at The Lord's Rain on Tuesday morning -- two conversations at the same time. I've joked on occasion that you don't have to be ADD to work at The Lord's Rain, but it helps. Often, someone will start talking to you regardless of whether you're already talking to someone else, so you usually have to tune one ear to the new conversation long enough to analyze whether it's something that can be put on hold until you've finished the current conversation or something vitally important that needs to be dealt with right away.
Compounding the situation this past Tuesday was the fact that the quarterly HST rebates were distributed the day before. (For those of you not in Canada, the government sends an amount each quarter to people on low incomes to compensate (at least in part) for their having to pay the Harmonized Sales Tax.) The rebates are a great idea in theory, but on the DTES, it means more money available to spend on drugs, and by gad, that's what they did on Monday. On Tuesday morning, many of the people were showing the effects and I was caught between two conversations with a newcomer named Vance and Dale, a man I've known since my start at Rainbow Mission in 2004.
Vance was notable for his scrupulous good manners, asking politely and thanking us for coffee, a drink of water, a refill ... but he had also been sitting by himself, deep in conversation with an unseen interlocutor, and occasionally gesturing very broadly -- almost violently. Dale had sat down next to him and he and I started talking about prayer. That's where Vance chimed in, excusing himself for stepping into the conversation.
But Vance's conversation was only semi-coherent, bouncing from one thought to the next like a flea on a hotplate. (My late mother, an actor, was once cast to play a pilot who'd suffered a brain injury in a plane crash. The sentences did not connect one word to the next, and for someone who used mnemonics -- mental images -- to memorize her lines, the challenge of learning this script was enormous. She literally had to memorize them word by word.) There was a common thread through his talking, however: demons and evil spirits. He talked about Jesus with bright shafts of light coming from His face, his own Aztec spiritual ancestry, standing toe-to-toe with the demon Pestilence -- and imitating Pestilence with a stance and facial contortions that made me feel like I was looking at Mr. P right there. Vance also talked about Leviathan (another demon), the Holy Spirit, bright lights and colors and a lot of other things I can't remember.
I sat there -- not frightened -- but fascinated. Interestingly, his talk about the spirit world did not go into things like the New World Order or other worldwide conspiracy theories (others talk about those). It was all about demons and spirits. Had he been part of a cult? Does he walk around constantly thinking these things, or do those thoughts come only when he's on drugs? (And I daresay, it's at moments like that, that I'm praying someone is on drugs! I'm only half-joking.)
All through this, Dale was continuing his conversation. Dale's mind was fried long ago by the lethal combination of mental illness and crack cocaine. He primarily follows a single theme: "I'm alright, aren't I?" He talks very loud and sometimes very fast -- the volume and the speed generally depend on whether he's affected by the street drugs or his own "head" medication has taken effect. At Rainbow Mission, he took great joy in wiping down the pews after the service. "Will you anoint my head with oil," he once asked me, "so I can wipe down the pews and not bring any evil to them?"
I thought I saw signs he was actually improving, but after Rainbow closed at the end of 2006, I didn't see much of him and when he did turn up at Gospel Mission he was in worse shape ... and the descent hasn't really let up. "I'm alright, aren't I? I'm gonna be OK, right? They say they're trying to help me but they don't, you know, they don't ..." (I'm not sure who "they" are: social workers, perhaps, or public health nurses? They probably do their best, but with limited resources, they can only do so much. Try telling that to the patients, though.)
"... I pray, you know," he went on, "... I hold my Bible every night ..."
"Do you read it?" I asked. "Just holding it won't do you any good."
"I should read it more, shouldn't I? I read the Psalms. I should read the Bible more, you're right."
"The Psalms are a good start," I replied. "Build on that."
"Yeah, I can build on that. I read the Psalms years ago. I should read it more, shouldn't I?"
Dale desperately needs validation of his life. Even trying to elicit some kind of criticism for not reading his Bible more reminds him that he's still alive and can still draw closer to God. That is, in fact, a common factor among so many of those on the DTES. That's a big reason why they come into The Lord's Rain: it's become a source of Hope -- that intangible reason for carrying on -- that is in such short supply in the area. And you know what? While it's good that we have staff and supporters who approach people with love and openness, the people themselves have made it what it is.
I think it's because of that, that some situations get resolved when they might have turned ugly. A couple of weeks ago, Danilo and one of the 'regulars' (Joe is his name) got into an argument over something to do with the coffee. The argument escalated to a veiled threat to "take it outside". Joe left ... Danilo was upset that he'd nearly lost control ... John was upset that someone gave Danilo "attitude" over the coffee ... A week later, Joe came in and apologized to Danilo. Danilo apologized for his role in it. End of discussion.
Incidents like that are a good indicator of the success of The Lord's Rain: that people are able to make up after a near dust-up. It's encouraging, and you know something? People need validation -- and sometimes, so do we.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Jesus, shelters and the law
There's a reason why there is a Commandment not to take the Lord's Name in vain, and it's less about cursing than it is about trying to take a religious "upper hand" in an argument. If you're going to approach something from the "what would Jesus do?" standpoint, better make sure you have a Scriptural basis for that.
A letter in the Vancouver Courier steps into that rather dangerous ground, in the controversy over the pending closure of the First United Church shelter for the homeless. I'm not sufficiently familiar with the issue to comment on it specifically, but the letter, with its use of pseudo-religious buzz-words like "Pharisee", indicates the dichotomy between what is "good" and what is "Godly".
The letter-writer seems to be of the opinion that, because Jesus calls on us to help the poor, the laws of the land should take a back seat. But that leads to the question, "Would Jesus break the law?"
Answer: no, He wouldn't. And He didn't. Pontius Pilate himself declared, "I find no fault in this man," and the charges for which Jesus was crucified were trumped-up and "confirmed" by false witnesses. Doesn't Jesus tell us to "render unto Caesar that which is Caesar's"? He's not just talking about paying taxes: He's talking about obeying the laws. (When Paul called on us to obey the laws of the land, he was being persecuted by Nero. If he can do it under one of the most brutal, oppressive tyrants ever, we can follow a fire code.)
The fact is, with Jesus on your side, you can help the poor and oppressed and stay within the law. If it requires resources, He will provide them; if it requires an expert on certain issues, like fire regulations or (in the case of Gospel Mission) FoodSafe, that expert will be put in your path.
It's important to remember, too, that -- unlike the charges against Jesus -- fire-code and other regulations are not trumped-up. They're there to protect people -- people in the building itself and those in buildings nearby that might be damaged should a fire break out. Are those people less deserving of the protection of those regulations, simply because a particular building is being used for a "higher calling"? Are the homeless less deserving of fire-code protection, themselves?
And it's worth noting that many of the people living on the Downtown East Side have been devoid of boundaries in their lives, but once boundaries are applied -- even something as seemingly minor as the number of Cobs buns they may have at The Lord's Rain -- they (generally) accept them readily. How would it look if we who try to minister to them try to circumvent the boundaries and (worse) try to rationalize them "in Jesus' Name"?
Many years ago when I was in radio in Victoria, a special-interest group sent out a communique just before Christmas stating that it had poisoned some of the turkeys in a particular grocery chain. The chain immediately pulled all the turkeys off the shelves and offered refunds to anyone who'd already bought a bird. Someone called the station to suggest that, rather than waste all the food, the turkeys should be given to the poor. Well-meaning, perhaps, but a little unclear on the concept: so what's the difference between that argument and the suggestion that one should wink at bylaws and fire codes because of the "higher purpose"?
Now, if one wants to make an argument that homeless shelters should have relaxed standards or be exempt from certain codes, that could be grounds for a valid discussion. But don't try to make it Holy and Godly by adding "in Jesus' Name" to the discussion. That can be dangerous on oh-so-many levels.
A letter in the Vancouver Courier steps into that rather dangerous ground, in the controversy over the pending closure of the First United Church shelter for the homeless. I'm not sufficiently familiar with the issue to comment on it specifically, but the letter, with its use of pseudo-religious buzz-words like "Pharisee", indicates the dichotomy between what is "good" and what is "Godly".
The letter-writer seems to be of the opinion that, because Jesus calls on us to help the poor, the laws of the land should take a back seat. But that leads to the question, "Would Jesus break the law?"
Answer: no, He wouldn't. And He didn't. Pontius Pilate himself declared, "I find no fault in this man," and the charges for which Jesus was crucified were trumped-up and "confirmed" by false witnesses. Doesn't Jesus tell us to "render unto Caesar that which is Caesar's"? He's not just talking about paying taxes: He's talking about obeying the laws. (When Paul called on us to obey the laws of the land, he was being persecuted by Nero. If he can do it under one of the most brutal, oppressive tyrants ever, we can follow a fire code.)
The fact is, with Jesus on your side, you can help the poor and oppressed and stay within the law. If it requires resources, He will provide them; if it requires an expert on certain issues, like fire regulations or (in the case of Gospel Mission) FoodSafe, that expert will be put in your path.
It's important to remember, too, that -- unlike the charges against Jesus -- fire-code and other regulations are not trumped-up. They're there to protect people -- people in the building itself and those in buildings nearby that might be damaged should a fire break out. Are those people less deserving of the protection of those regulations, simply because a particular building is being used for a "higher calling"? Are the homeless less deserving of fire-code protection, themselves?
And it's worth noting that many of the people living on the Downtown East Side have been devoid of boundaries in their lives, but once boundaries are applied -- even something as seemingly minor as the number of Cobs buns they may have at The Lord's Rain -- they (generally) accept them readily. How would it look if we who try to minister to them try to circumvent the boundaries and (worse) try to rationalize them "in Jesus' Name"?
Many years ago when I was in radio in Victoria, a special-interest group sent out a communique just before Christmas stating that it had poisoned some of the turkeys in a particular grocery chain. The chain immediately pulled all the turkeys off the shelves and offered refunds to anyone who'd already bought a bird. Someone called the station to suggest that, rather than waste all the food, the turkeys should be given to the poor. Well-meaning, perhaps, but a little unclear on the concept: so what's the difference between that argument and the suggestion that one should wink at bylaws and fire codes because of the "higher purpose"?
Now, if one wants to make an argument that homeless shelters should have relaxed standards or be exempt from certain codes, that could be grounds for a valid discussion. But don't try to make it Holy and Godly by adding "in Jesus' Name" to the discussion. That can be dangerous on oh-so-many levels.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Acceptable?
According to the author, editor and humorist Bennett Cerf, New York Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia would spend one day a month (I think it was) presiding over Magistrate's Court in his city. As Mayor, he was Chief Magistrate, and took that part of the job seriously. One day, a woman was brought before him, charged with stealing a loaf of bread. She confessed, saying she had no other way to feed her family. He fined her $50, then suspended the sentence and found everyone else in the courtroom guilty of "living in a city where a woman has to steal to feed her family". Each person was fined $10 and the sheriff was ordered to take up the collection on the spot. Then he turned the money over to the woman.
As I arrived at The Lord's Rain Tuesday morning, I passed an old man sitting on a street-level window ledge. His eyes were closed and he was at least half asleep. He's a fixture in the area: a man who calls himself a Pastor and putters around the Downtown East Side, usually with a walker, proclaiming Jesus to anyone who'll listen. Sometimes he has a roof over his head; sometimes not. It appears this was one of those "not" nights.
Another frequent visitor at The Lord's Rain is a man named Bill. He's well into his 60s and spends his days pushing a shopping cart around the city -- I sometimes see him in the West End, which is a considerable distance from the DTES -- collecting bottles. "Good morning, Father," he says when he comes in for his coffee. (I'm not a Catholic priest, but that's his way of addressing a leader in a religious setting, so that's OK with me.) Bill has the most gentle spirit and has astounded doctors by bouncing back from a lung infection about a year and a half ago that the doctors were certain was going to kill him.
Last month, I was in Toronto, and stepped on the subway one time to find the too-familiar aroma of stale urine. It was coming from a man who was sound asleep, folded up in one of the seats. People in the same carriage seemed to look past, around or through him: but never at him.
WHY IS THIS ACCEPTABLE?
Why is it acceptable that men in their 60s and 70s, with long lives behind them -- and who maybe made a couple of mistakes here and there that proved costly in the long run -- have to collect bottles and cans and sleep in doorways, waiting for a free-coffee place to open up? Why is it acceptable for a man to sit in his own urine-reeked clothes on a subway while people try to imagine he's not there? Why is it acceptable for people to have to urinate and defecate in alleys while the leaders of the city -- one of the "World's Most Livable" and "Greenest" cities -- dither over how to provide public facilities for them? (Even to the extent of suggesting it's the responsibility of the transit authority, for the luvva Mike!)
And yet evidently it must be for some people, because the situation persists and even seems to get worse. Ignoring them and figuring someone else can help people has hardly been a resounding success; remember what Jesus said: "what you do to the least of these, you do to Me."
That would include ignoring them. Ignoring these people is tantamount to ignoring Jesus.
Selah.
And lest you think that rising up and saying THIS IS NOT ACCEPTABLE! involves some mammoth undertaking, consider the guy on the Toronto subway. As we got near my stop, I knelt down beside him and roused him to see if he was OK. He said he was. Then I told him I was praying for him. "It's all I can do," I said. I was almost ashamed to say it, but he looked up and smiled and said, "Thanks, man."
I don't know why I was ashamed: probably because I didn't have a magic wand and didn't know where to take him to bathe and get a fresh change of clothes (in Vancouver, I would have taken him to The Lord's Rain). But really, prayer is the most effective tool we have when used as directed. And the sense that someone cares enough even to say, "hello in there" can plant a seed of hope that can grow more than we could ever ask or think.
As I arrived at The Lord's Rain Tuesday morning, I passed an old man sitting on a street-level window ledge. His eyes were closed and he was at least half asleep. He's a fixture in the area: a man who calls himself a Pastor and putters around the Downtown East Side, usually with a walker, proclaiming Jesus to anyone who'll listen. Sometimes he has a roof over his head; sometimes not. It appears this was one of those "not" nights.
Another frequent visitor at The Lord's Rain is a man named Bill. He's well into his 60s and spends his days pushing a shopping cart around the city -- I sometimes see him in the West End, which is a considerable distance from the DTES -- collecting bottles. "Good morning, Father," he says when he comes in for his coffee. (I'm not a Catholic priest, but that's his way of addressing a leader in a religious setting, so that's OK with me.) Bill has the most gentle spirit and has astounded doctors by bouncing back from a lung infection about a year and a half ago that the doctors were certain was going to kill him.
Last month, I was in Toronto, and stepped on the subway one time to find the too-familiar aroma of stale urine. It was coming from a man who was sound asleep, folded up in one of the seats. People in the same carriage seemed to look past, around or through him: but never at him.
WHY IS THIS ACCEPTABLE?
Why is it acceptable that men in their 60s and 70s, with long lives behind them -- and who maybe made a couple of mistakes here and there that proved costly in the long run -- have to collect bottles and cans and sleep in doorways, waiting for a free-coffee place to open up? Why is it acceptable for a man to sit in his own urine-reeked clothes on a subway while people try to imagine he's not there? Why is it acceptable for people to have to urinate and defecate in alleys while the leaders of the city -- one of the "World's Most Livable" and "Greenest" cities -- dither over how to provide public facilities for them? (Even to the extent of suggesting it's the responsibility of the transit authority, for the luvva Mike!)
And yet evidently it must be for some people, because the situation persists and even seems to get worse. Ignoring them and figuring someone else can help people has hardly been a resounding success; remember what Jesus said: "what you do to the least of these, you do to Me."
That would include ignoring them. Ignoring these people is tantamount to ignoring Jesus.
Selah.
And lest you think that rising up and saying THIS IS NOT ACCEPTABLE! involves some mammoth undertaking, consider the guy on the Toronto subway. As we got near my stop, I knelt down beside him and roused him to see if he was OK. He said he was. Then I told him I was praying for him. "It's all I can do," I said. I was almost ashamed to say it, but he looked up and smiled and said, "Thanks, man."
I don't know why I was ashamed: probably because I didn't have a magic wand and didn't know where to take him to bathe and get a fresh change of clothes (in Vancouver, I would have taken him to The Lord's Rain). But really, prayer is the most effective tool we have when used as directed. And the sense that someone cares enough even to say, "hello in there" can plant a seed of hope that can grow more than we could ever ask or think.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
InSite - reminding us of the job at hand
The Supreme Court of Canada has ruled that InSite -- the "supervised" drug injection facility on the Downtown East Side -- should continue to receive public funds on the grounds that drug addicts have the "right" to shoot up in a healthy environment.
Once again in this country, "rights" has trumped "right". InSite has been around for eight years, and despite its claims to having reduced the infection rate of HIV/AIDS, there are some inescapable facts:
This just in: drugs have already taken away that freedom. You look at someone groping around the streets and alleys, looking for a grain of crack cocaine to smoke, fumbling to find a vein with a needle, or sidling up to someone passing through with the "I-just-got-a-job-in-Fort-McMurray-but-I-need-to-get-enough-money-for-the-bus" line and tell me how capable they are of making a wise "choice".
This is all in the name of "harm reduction", and as I've said before, Jesus is not into harm reduction: He's into harm elimination. The law of His time on earth banished the "woman with the issue of blood" in the name of harm reduction. Jesus turned around and healed her. Same with lepers and demonized people. So much of the Downtown East Side resembles a leper colony or Samaria. But the healing has to begin with the hope that healing is possible. The woman with the issue wouldn't have put her life on the line -- literally -- to touch the hem of Jesus' garment if she didn't have a glimmer of hope that it would work when spending her life savings on medical treatment had failed. Statements like the remark by then mayor Sam Sullivan to the effect that, while addicts want to be clean, he'd like to get up and walk out of his wheelchair, but that's not going to happen either (emphasis mine), serve to stomp that hope into ashes.
But wailing and gnashing teeth that the law is an ass won't do. The ruling simply strengthens our resolve to continue preaching the Gospel -- and with it, Hope -- to the people we serve on the Downtown East Side. Let them know that a life without drugs, poverty and despair is not some vague promise in a book, but something mandated of God and, in fact, attainable. Drugs, poverty and despair are not really the problems -- in fact, as a student from Columbia Bible College pointed out recently at the Mission, for many people, they're the solution. The problems that lead to that solution are deeper issues that only God, through Jesus Christ, can identify, expose and heal, and they involve turning to Him and letting Him do His thing. That way, people on the DTES can become a generation of Overcomers, which could be far more dangerous to The Man than a neighbourhood full of addicts.
Now that I think of it and run it through the filter of seeking God and His glory in all things, the court ruling isn't so bad, at that. It reminds us that The Man -- the legal system, social-service programs and health-care "professionals" -- cannot be relied on to save people. Only God can do that -- just as Jesus told Martha after her brother Lazarus had died, "you will see the Father glorified". So while there is still daylight, we have to keep working hard to remind people that God can be glorified in any situation -- even (or especially) in the midst of Canada's Worst Postal Code.
Once again in this country, "rights" has trumped "right". InSite has been around for eight years, and despite its claims to having reduced the infection rate of HIV/AIDS, there are some inescapable facts:
- people are still doing drugs, many of them openly on the streets or in alleys
- there is still a "market" for drugs, because those coming into InSite had to have acquired them from someplace
- women are still selling their bodies for drug money and often getting killed in the process
- street crime has grown worse over that time
- gang activity -- fuelled by the drug trade -- has also grown worse over that time
- police are increasingly frustrated at not being able to enforce the laws that are supposed to protect people (get a cop talking about InSite and you'll see a completely different picture than the one put forward by the proponents)
This just in: drugs have already taken away that freedom. You look at someone groping around the streets and alleys, looking for a grain of crack cocaine to smoke, fumbling to find a vein with a needle, or sidling up to someone passing through with the "I-just-got-a-job-in-Fort-McMurray-but-I-need-to-get-enough-money-for-the-bus" line and tell me how capable they are of making a wise "choice".
This is all in the name of "harm reduction", and as I've said before, Jesus is not into harm reduction: He's into harm elimination. The law of His time on earth banished the "woman with the issue of blood" in the name of harm reduction. Jesus turned around and healed her. Same with lepers and demonized people. So much of the Downtown East Side resembles a leper colony or Samaria. But the healing has to begin with the hope that healing is possible. The woman with the issue wouldn't have put her life on the line -- literally -- to touch the hem of Jesus' garment if she didn't have a glimmer of hope that it would work when spending her life savings on medical treatment had failed. Statements like the remark by then mayor Sam Sullivan to the effect that, while addicts want to be clean, he'd like to get up and walk out of his wheelchair, but that's not going to happen either (emphasis mine), serve to stomp that hope into ashes.
But wailing and gnashing teeth that the law is an ass won't do. The ruling simply strengthens our resolve to continue preaching the Gospel -- and with it, Hope -- to the people we serve on the Downtown East Side. Let them know that a life without drugs, poverty and despair is not some vague promise in a book, but something mandated of God and, in fact, attainable. Drugs, poverty and despair are not really the problems -- in fact, as a student from Columbia Bible College pointed out recently at the Mission, for many people, they're the solution. The problems that lead to that solution are deeper issues that only God, through Jesus Christ, can identify, expose and heal, and they involve turning to Him and letting Him do His thing. That way, people on the DTES can become a generation of Overcomers, which could be far more dangerous to The Man than a neighbourhood full of addicts.
Now that I think of it and run it through the filter of seeking God and His glory in all things, the court ruling isn't so bad, at that. It reminds us that The Man -- the legal system, social-service programs and health-care "professionals" -- cannot be relied on to save people. Only God can do that -- just as Jesus told Martha after her brother Lazarus had died, "you will see the Father glorified". So while there is still daylight, we have to keep working hard to remind people that God can be glorified in any situation -- even (or especially) in the midst of Canada's Worst Postal Code.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
From The Lord's Rain - "This is the Day ..."
Those of you who have been following this saga from the beginning probably know that one of the challenges has been to find a niche for Ladies' Day. It was actually put on Brodie Collins' heart -- he who did the plumbing for the project -- just as we were opening: that many women might not be comfortable showering or hanging out with a bunch of men nearby. So we decided to set aside such a time.
But what time? We began with Friday nights; that had limited success, partly because not many people want to shower-up at 7:00 in the evening and partly because another Lord's Rain opening started up earlier in the afternoon. So we kept trying new times, and it's always been difficult getting people to volunteer for an early-morning opening. Ladies' Day, therefore, became something of a moving target as we tried to find the right formula.
Then, this past spring, with Ladies' Day sitting in the Tuesday 9-Noon slot, our friend Randall pointed out that one reason why it was no more successful there was because people were lining up for lunches at some of the other agencies around the Downtown East Side -- and when it came to the choice between a shower and lunch, you can understand which won out. At that point, Janet declared that she was willing to give an early morning a shot and so, we moved Ladies' Day yet again to 7-10am on Mondays.
Monday, we got some evidence that we've hit the "sweet spot". With Janet away on vacation, I went down to open up. Sandy, whom I've known since the Rainbow Mission days in 2004-2006, came to help out, as did Megan, a new volunteer, who lives at the Rainier Hotel, a few doors away on Carrall Street. It's a single-room-occupancy (SRO) hotel, which caters primarily to women. Diane Brown, who works on Wednesday mornings, had met Megan a couple of weeks ago and invited her to come in: Megan asked if she could volunteer.
Megan seems like someone with a wellspring of gifts and ideas, who has -- for one reason or another -- never had a chance to give them an outlet. Drugs, mental illness, abusive past, you name it: anything can keep a lid on someone's self-esteem and make them keep their gifts to themselves and all have played a role in Megan's life. We'll get to know her more in the days to come. But one thing is certain: she's enthusiastic about bringing something to the Mission.
One of those is in "talking up" The Lord's Rain. She's been making little flyers to hand out at some of the social service agencies and telling the women in The Rainier about The Lord's Rain and Ladies' Day in particular. Already, it's starting to bear fruit.
This morning, a woman I hadn't seen before came in, using a walker. Ethel is native, 63, and in a lot of pain from the effects of arthritis and diabetes. She's also trying to kick a drug habit. "One of the women at the Rainier sent me over," she said. That would be Megan. Ethel was going for an interview to get into Ellendale, a recovery program in Surrey -- the kind where you allow yourself to be locked away for six months. But she was hungry, needed coffee, and needed to rest her feet.
One of the "meaning to get" things on my list has been a proper footbath, but I managed to rustle up a plastic bin and some foaming bath gel and ran warm water into it. Ethel plunged her gnarled, callused feet into the suds and the relief that came over her face was indescribable.
(The Health Contact Centre, which closed last year when a private not-for-profit agency took over some of its services, was noted for its footbaths, and people on the DTES haven't been able to find such a thing since; at the time, it was noted that the word "contact" was very important in the title: a vital face-to-face connection that you don't get in mainstream health clinics.)
"This is truly a house of the Lord!" she exclaimed. "I can feel His presence here!" Sandy and I prayed over Ethel for her to have favor in the interview and healing for all things, known and unknown.
Then Megan came in, followed by another woman. Kathy is her name, and she had been divorced from her first husband, then widowed by her second, who was a Pentecostal pastor. Now here she was on the Downtown East Side. There's a story there, and eventually, I imagine we'll hear about it.
"Let's pray for Ethel that she gets in at Ellendale!" Megan said.
"We already did pray for her," I said, and immediately heard the Lord say, "Fool! Don't stop her from praying!"
By some miracle, I managed to recover and encourage her to pray before any discouragement set in, and Megan prayed a lovely, heartfelt prayer for Ethel.
"Let's sing," Ethel said. "'This is the day (this is the day)/That the Lord has made (that the Lord has made)/Let us rejoice (let us rejoice)/And be glad in it ....' "
And then they launched into "Put Your Hand in the Hand of the Man from Galilee".
And so we drank coffee and ate Cobs Bread buns and talked of everything and nothing and by the time closing time came around, none of us wanted to leave. But the office was calling and Ethel did have to get up to the health clinic. We'll probably hear soon how things went. And there's a definite sense that Ladies' Day took a big step closer to the way it was envisaged from the start.
====
Sock update -- about a year ago, I whimsically made reference to the Vancouver Sock Exchange, with people bringing in used but still wearable socks and swapping them for new ones. On Saturday, Ron, one of our regulars who's a "binner" (makes additional cash by collecting recyclables from garbage bins and taking them to bottle-collection depots and scrap dealers), came in with a large bag of dirty socks. He's been regularly receiving new socks from us, which is understandable, given the need for fresh socks in his line of work. Now, I'm happy to say that he's one of the first who's actually traded in the used ones. "I got another bag of them at home," he told me. Now, that's "giving back"!
When we first started The Lord's Rain, "street foot", a ghastly rot that takes over a person's feet when they go too long in the same dirty socks -- especially if those socks get wet -- was very common. I realized recently that I haven't seen a case of street foot in a long time. I think the awareness of the need for fresh socks -- and people's willingness to meet that need -- has had a lot to do with it.
====
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
The "Worst" kind of violence?
A message board outside a church near my place currently (at least, as of Sunday) displays the aphorism, "Poverty is the worst kind of violence".
I've spent the past couple of days muttering, "what the heck does that mean?". It's a little like eating spicy food that still needs salt: something is missing there.
To begin with, the word "violence" generally has some negative connotations, and when I hear a term used like that, it's often in the context that someone else is guilty of it.
But whom are we accusing?
Lest we cudgel our brains into porridge over this, let's remind ourselves that even Jesus, the Son of God, acknowledges that there will always be poverty. That's why one of His commandments to His followers is to take care of the poor. Not eradicate poverty (which is one of those well-meaning, world-based "goals" that seems laudable, but because it's impossible to achieve, can bring a sense of futility and despair when that goal is never reached), but lift the poor out of the mire to make room for and set an example for the others who, inevitably, will slip. Just as God sends storms and illness and other trials to strengthen our faith and increase our reliance on Him; just as He created good and evil, darkness and light, I believe poverty is one of His creations so that those who are not impoverished can carry out that commandment and so that we can all learn how interdependant we are on one another and on God.
So if we make a statement like, "poverty is the worst kind of violence," are we not leveling an accusation at God?
"The poor," Jesus says, "ye shall have always." He never says they'll be the same poor. An area like the Downtown East Side should be a flow-through point, where people come for a time, and then get on with life. Missions like ours exist to get people turned around and back on track. Sadly, the DTES has become less of a thoroughfare and more of a dead end, with bodies and lives piling up.
Rather than look at poverty as being violence, I believe it's an opportunity from God: an opportunity to help and be helped and to see His glory, no matter what. I remember a fellow who came in often to Rainbow Mission (which closed at the end of 2006) and whom I still see from time to time -- Abraham Jones is his name -- and he once gave a testimony: "I thank God that I don't have a roof over my head tonight. I thank God that I don't know where my next meal is coming from. I thank God that I don't have a job." The inference was that he knew he could rely on God through anything and he was grateful for the opportunity; it's easy to glorify Him when things look good, but to do so when things look bad requires a whole lot of faith.
So is poverty "violence"? No. Keeping people in poverty, whether by ignoring them (like the rich dude in Jesus' parable, who ignores the pleas of the beggar Lazarus) or creating institutions that deny them hope and the truth of the Gospel, is closer -- definitely, an offence to God.
The story goes that a newspaper surveyed its readers about 100 years ago with the question, "what is the greatest threat to mankind?" The great author, GK Chesterton, submitted a simple, two-word response: "I am."
Let me turn that on its ear. What is the greatest asset of mankind?
You are.
We are.
I've spent the past couple of days muttering, "what the heck does that mean?". It's a little like eating spicy food that still needs salt: something is missing there.
To begin with, the word "violence" generally has some negative connotations, and when I hear a term used like that, it's often in the context that someone else is guilty of it.
But whom are we accusing?
Lest we cudgel our brains into porridge over this, let's remind ourselves that even Jesus, the Son of God, acknowledges that there will always be poverty. That's why one of His commandments to His followers is to take care of the poor. Not eradicate poverty (which is one of those well-meaning, world-based "goals" that seems laudable, but because it's impossible to achieve, can bring a sense of futility and despair when that goal is never reached), but lift the poor out of the mire to make room for and set an example for the others who, inevitably, will slip. Just as God sends storms and illness and other trials to strengthen our faith and increase our reliance on Him; just as He created good and evil, darkness and light, I believe poverty is one of His creations so that those who are not impoverished can carry out that commandment and so that we can all learn how interdependant we are on one another and on God.
So if we make a statement like, "poverty is the worst kind of violence," are we not leveling an accusation at God?
"The poor," Jesus says, "ye shall have always." He never says they'll be the same poor. An area like the Downtown East Side should be a flow-through point, where people come for a time, and then get on with life. Missions like ours exist to get people turned around and back on track. Sadly, the DTES has become less of a thoroughfare and more of a dead end, with bodies and lives piling up.
Rather than look at poverty as being violence, I believe it's an opportunity from God: an opportunity to help and be helped and to see His glory, no matter what. I remember a fellow who came in often to Rainbow Mission (which closed at the end of 2006) and whom I still see from time to time -- Abraham Jones is his name -- and he once gave a testimony: "I thank God that I don't have a roof over my head tonight. I thank God that I don't know where my next meal is coming from. I thank God that I don't have a job." The inference was that he knew he could rely on God through anything and he was grateful for the opportunity; it's easy to glorify Him when things look good, but to do so when things look bad requires a whole lot of faith.
So is poverty "violence"? No. Keeping people in poverty, whether by ignoring them (like the rich dude in Jesus' parable, who ignores the pleas of the beggar Lazarus) or creating institutions that deny them hope and the truth of the Gospel, is closer -- definitely, an offence to God.
Let me turn that on its ear. What is the greatest asset of mankind?
You are.
We are.
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