We had a visitor at the church the other day.
(Not at the Sunday service. Although, that too.)
We're getting some work done on the building, making space for things that are happening and, with all the comings and goings, a door was left propped open. A man, maybe having seen the "Food Bank Garden" sign, went in and had a surprise chat with a volunteer who was working alone in the building.
He found his way to her office and told her he was hungry. She politely told him we had no food in the building and escorted him back out.
No biggy, but a good experience for us to be discussing, moving forward.
1. I think I know who the guy was and (small town bla bla bla) if I'm right, he's always "hungry." He always needs $10 for a coffee, or $20 for a sandwich but if you offer to buy him lunch, he's not inclined to accept. He's usually pleasant, never threatening.
2. After he'd gone, she looked around and, in the basement, found the kitchen cupboard doors open. She hadn't left them like that, so she suggested I check my office next time I was in. Sure enough, a storage box and a cupboard door were open. My office doesn't contain anything confidential or valuable, so whatever. Any spaces in the building that do are locked when not occupied.
3. The only things in the building that are worth a bit of money (we've never invested in electronics stuff, even with all of the online necessities of covid. Most of our equipment is either second hand, or thirty years old, and basic) or might be pawnable (guitar, bass, computer, projector) were undisturbed. But for some reason, and maybe coincidentally, the last two onions in their row in the garden were gone. Which is fine, because that's kind of the whole point of the garden. Hope he took some tomatoes, too.
Churches have a special relationship with those who live on the fringes. And a complicated one.
There has, undeniably, been an abusive power-based thing where "religious" people use the vulnerable or needy to their own advantage or to make themselves feel virtuous. Anybody in Canada should be able to think of a relevant situation. Sometimes (to be charitable to us) we probably don't realize we're doing it, which calls for a profound and honest self-awareness.
There has also been a mistrust of those who come looking for help. A judgemental attitude that believes that if they hadn't made such bad choices, they wouldn't be in this mess. A view that draws a line between the "deserving poor" and everybody else. And now that they're down and out, they're just looking to take what they can from those of us who have worked hard and earned what we have. (I was talking to someone recently who had previously been tenting in the backyard of someone who rents a house from a church that shares the property. They were only able to stay for as long as they were "hidden out of sight." They were told to move on because "the church didn't want us there.") And to be fair, some of the disenfranchised, like with any other group, are dishonest and unscrupulous, taking advantage of anyone who stands still long enough.
That mistrust goes both ways. Many people who live on the streets, or are one rent check and a couple of inches away, know how they're perceived and, like anybody, don't want to be asking for help from someone who they feel is looking down on them, or who they think wants to manipulate them into "being religious." That's a tough one, because I have to say I think Jesus is the best news ever, and I work for a church because that's who I am.
I'm grateful to my congregation for their willingness and work on the garden. I'm thrilled to be able to (literally) offer a cup of cold water in Jesus' name (although sometimes it's best not to push that). I'm glad my friend in the office didn't dial 911 when a "skinny, barefoot" man walked through her office door.
I'm glad that we haven't spent a lot of money on stuff that is pawnable, because it takes some of the pressure off of everybody. And I'm glad that our church's most valuable things are people, history, faith, and opportunity.
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