Plain in the city

A plain Quaker folk singer with a Juris Doctorate in his back pocket, salt in his blood, and a set of currach oars in the closet, Ulleann Pipes under his arm, guitar on his back, Anglo Irish baggage, wandering through New York City ... in constant amaze. Statement of Faithfulness. As a member of the Quaker Bloggers Ad Hoc Committee I affirm that I will be faithful to the Book of Discipline of my Meeting 15th Street Monthly Meeting of the Religious Society of Friends.

Monday, December 08, 2008

Unwelcome Angels at Meeting

When God sends angels to us, it is not always for our comfort. This message came to me, after an incident as we settled down for Meeting this last First Day. I heard screaming in front of the Meeting house, and went out to find a neighbor who had no place to live in a state of fear and crying. There was another Friend there, a member of Ministry and Worship. The homeless neighbor was screaming that his bag was missing, with everything he owns, and that without it, in this cold weather, he could die. He had left it in the corner of our Meeting house's front courtyard.

I supposed our caretaker would know about it, so I brought him inside, trough a side entrance as not to further disturb worshipers. In the common room there were still some Friends from the earlier Meeting having tea and snacks. The fellow was still crying and begging Friends to give him back his bag, promising to be good and never leave it with us again. I found our caretaker, who began to tell me that he had thrown it away in the garbage and he had done so because the fellow was a problem. I told him to give the fellow back his things, and it was done, with a great deal of crying and begging from the owner, and angry justifications and banging of dumpster lids by our caretaker. He told me that (as best as I could follow, our friend's English is not great when he is angry) the fellow had sued to be allowed to live on the street, and that we were aiding a criminal act.

I started back to the Meeting house, but could not go in. I felt deeply ashamed that we had driven one of God's angels from our doorstep. I went out again, to give the fellow my phone number, so that I might address this to the Meeting, and let him know the outcome in light of this breech of hospitality. The Friend from Ministry and Worship asked that we speak first and told me that if we extended a blanket invitation to homeless people to sleep in our front courtyard we would loose members, and people would not enroll in Friend's Seminary - our Meeting's school.

I offered that we need to quickly address this issue in, at least a joint meeting of Pastoral Care and Ministry and Worship. During Meeting the message about angles came to me. I thought of how unlike our testimonies it was to turn away someone in need, when we had an abundance of resources. We had just spent a huge sum on placing blue stone over the entire courtyard at the behest of the school. In the message I related that several other churches in midtown, whose worshipers were the most wealthy and powerful New Yorkers, had gone to court to stop the police from driving away homeless people who would sleep on the steps of the church, seeking some small sanctuary. I related how, a Jewish friend who worships with us, describes a town in Israel where they seek to live the Torah in full. There, people will cross the street to not disturb a cat eating from the garbage, in recognition of all living things basic right to comfort.

I was reminded and spoke of a time, some forty years ago, when, to remind us of our neglect of homeless neighbors, a Friend lay across the sidewalk, and Friends stepped over him to enter Meeting. All did, except Friend Marjory Cornwall, who stopped, bent down, so she might see his face and said, "Oh, John!" I spoke of our Meeting as a place set aside for God and asked if we are not still stepping over John

Another message followed, from a visiting Friend, from another meeting. She was a young adult who had never given a message before, but felt forced to her feet the moment I sat down, to say she had just returned from the devastated parts of New Orleans, and that having a place that is a home is everything.

Two more messages followed hers. One Friend said that the examples of others should not be our motivation, but we should look to God's intention for us, and another said that our Meeting houses were not more sacred than a bathroom.

I agree with both observations. I do feel, however, that the examples of others help us, as witness to remember to seek God's guidance, not the guidance of expediency. If we followed the interest of worry over loss of membership or property there would never have been an Underground Railroad. And set aside for God, is quite different from sacred. Most places held sacred by people -- worshiped as idolic representations of God, are jealously protected. Our place, we nurture for God's use, should be a place open to God's intentions for us, not our worries over our many temptations to exclusivity.

Carl asleep

Carl asleep 1

Carl asleep 2
Photos - Carl being awakened in the Park, - Lorcan Otway

In New York, the city has been removing benches for decades now, to keep homeless people from sleeping in sight of those of us with roofs over our heads. Our Jewish friend, told me after Meeting that in the most religiously observant places in Israel, when homeless people stretch out on public benches -- neighbors go out and cover them with blankets. This simple act, seems to be, so much more God's intention. I am mindful of the Christian belief that Christ comes to us in the least of our neighbors, in the most unexpected among us, and I hope that we find a way forward other than driving Christ from our doorstep.


Eva and Henry Thomas Otway

Eva Mitten Otway and Henry Thomas Otway
My own family, in the past, was divided on driving God's angles from the door. My Grandfather, Salvation Army Divisional Commander Henry Otway loved the poor and the homeless ... just not on his doorstep. So, he placed a series of small openings in the stairs attached to a water line, to send a cascade of water down the front steps. My grandmother, Eva Mitten Otway, would never let him turn it on. My father was drawn to his father's side of the equation, I am drawn to Grandmother's.

6 Comments:

At 9:46 AM, Blogger Laurie Kruczek said...

Simply stirring, your caring for those marginalized by society. OUR SOCIETY. I completely agree with your take on such things. When I have had volunteer time, it has often been on behalf of the homeless. Thank you for addressing this issue in your own meeting, as well. We should never look the other way.

It reminds me of a talented, young woman here in Portland who takes photographs of the homeless, attempting to help tell their story. Her name is Jahat. You can see her images here:

http://flickr.com/photos/jahat/sets/72157594529727843/

May God's light and wisdom continue to shine on thee, Lorcan.

Laur

 
At 6:47 PM, Blogger Plain Foolish said...

Craig reminds me to remind you that Abraham's tent had 4 doors, one in each wall of the tent, so that should anyone approach, they would always find the front of the tent and be welcomed.

 
At 6:55 AM, Blogger Liz Opp said...

Wow, this story certainly gives me great pause... There is much I could write, questions I could raise, but I think it best to let the story and the Inward Teacher work on me.

I've also shared the link to this blogpost with the Friend who writes about Quakers and social class.

Blessings,
Liz Opp, The Good Raised Up

 
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At 2:52 PM, Blogger Nate Downes said...

I ran across your blog by looking for pictures of my step-fathers family, Eva and Henry Otway were his grandparents through his mother Muriel. Was interesting to read some insight into two people I sadly never had the opportunity to meet.

 
At 11:34 AM, Blogger Mary said...

Hi! I am Mary Stewart and I think I am your relative. My half brother was Thomas Hansen, the son of Eva Muriel Otway and Archie Stewart. Tom passed away in Jan. If you would like to email me please do so. I met Tom one time but Ton enjoyed a lengthy correspondence with our mutual father.

 

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