Boylston Street Letter #10

Still backtracking ... see Boylston Street Letter #9.

The week of March 26-30, 2007

More than ever, I regret that I don’t know how to speak Spanish.

On Monday we held a Lenten morning prayer in the day center using the lectionary readings for the feast of the Annunciation. Like a service of morning prayer we conducted during Advent, this service was open to our Spanish-speaking guests. A Capuchin Franciscan brother who does counseling and intake with the guests and is fluent in Spanish assisted me in the preparations. Now, let me confess that our prayer was not planned quite as we had advertised it. We announced that the prayer was going to be bilingual, but in reality the prayer was in English with one reading, the Gospel of Luke, in Spanish. You see, in December we prepared the opening and closing hymn in English and Spanish as well as every reading from Scripture. We were looking forward to an enthusiastic response from our Spanish-speaking guests, but in the end none came. Therefore, this time around we hedged our bets: we invited all to come to our prayer whatever their native language, but we expected to have an Anglo audience and planned accordingly.

Well, on this Monday we had one English-speaking guest and five Spanish-speaking guests. They were attracted to the large classroom where we were worshipping because we were offering coffee and breakfast pastries. The only trouble was, they did not seem much interested in participating in our prayer, despite my Capuchin partner’s communication of our purpose to them. The atmosphere became uncomfortable for me as our guests looked at us in bewilderment. Why were we handing them songsheets written in English, when we knew they couldn’t read a single word of the lyrics? And why did we go on singing words they could not hear?

All our Bibles were in English, and I had only one copy of the Spanish text of Luke’s Gospel for the Franciscan friar to read. Feeling desperation, in haste I asked the Capuchin to translate the verses I would be reading from Isaiah as we proceeded. This he did heroically, but the effect was not very prayerful, and our Spanish guests grew only more disengaged. Murmuring, two of them carried on some bit of merriment between them, laughing among themselves, sharing what I worried was a kind of malicious delight in our linguistic difficulties. We tried to recite one of the psalms responsorially, but this was a spectacular failure. By this time our sole English-speaking guest had become restless, telling me he couldn’t understand what we were saying with the Bible—that it wasn’t the way his preacher had taught him to understand it. In the meantime, a couple of guests had walked in for some coffee, oblivious to the prayer going on. Their insensitivity offended our English-speaking guest, and he rebuked them. At this point I lost my cool, and I sternly warned everybody to attend to the purpose of this gathering, which was to hear the Word of God and be still before God’s presence.

Everybody got the message, regardless of their native tongue, and we continued with the Gospel of Luke in Spanish, then English. We paused for silence, then we attempted some prayers and petitions. This did not work well, and the fellow who said he couldn’t understand how we were reading the Bible made a protest and left before we concluded. (Meanwhile, the other two guests who had come in for the coffee, both English speakers, stayed on.) The snickering continued among a couple of the Spanish speakers, and we ended with an awkward Our Father in Spanish. During that prayer I moved my lips, but no words came out.

I felt so foolish after the service was over. I’ve been working at the shelter for over seven months; I should have known better than to prepare a prayer expecting a certain kind of turnout. I forgot one of the axioms of pastoral ministry to the homeless: you don’t prepare, you get ready.

See what happens when you make plans? I don’t need to read the story of the Tower of Babel to be convinced that God delights in undermining our unitary designs. But what makes this incident different from the Babel story is that our tongues were already confused before we met, and we never intended to do the same work. Even the English speaker was speaking a different language from the Capuchin Franciscan and me. We acted like Pentecost had never happened. But we are living on the other side of Pentecost, and we have the gift of the Spirit to help us interpret tongues—to translate, not transliterate. We can do better. And if I can’t learn Spanish, at least I can speak Christian.

Boylston Street Letter #9

One in an occasional series of reflections on homelessness and my duties as a pastoral intern at St. Francis House, a daytime shelter on 39 Boylston St. in Boston (http://www.stfrancishouse.org). Apologies for the long-delayed backtracking.

The week of March 19-23, 2007

I have little to report, but much to ask. Please keep Mallory in your prayers. Her life is in danger, so soon after her day of glory.

She graduated from our Moving Ahead Program on March 16, certainly one of the proudest, most hopeful moments in her life. I could not be present to cheer for her because I was demonstrating in Washington, DC. If only I could have been there and here in Boston. I thought of her, and I thought about how good it would be to resume our Friday afternoon tutorials, moving from mathematics to reading comprehension and writing skills. She could continue striving for her GED and continue rebuilding her life. Our routine, one of many healthy routines she had adopted, would go on as before.

But life is not working out that way, because Mallory has become homeless. Not figuratively in the way I have described homelessness before, but literally. Recently she was booted from the recovery residence she was living in because she allegedly failed a urine test three times. (Mallory vigorously denies she could have failed the tests and has claimed it was discrimination because she is a transgender person.) She is practically penniless, and despite her job skills training through our program she is having difficulty finding employment. Finding work and low-income shelter is complicated because of her CORI status and the short length of time she has maintained sobriety.

Speaking to me and to the MAP admissions director, she confessed that if she does not succeed in finding a place to live and work to do in Boston, she will have no choice but to return to Springfield, where, she said, she would very likely meet her demise among bad company.

As dire a scenario this is, I thought to myself, our shelter’s life skills program really works, because there’s no way Mallory would have realized before that her way of life in Springfield was leading her to an untimely death. She has discovered a community in Boston that is nurturing her into new being, and she knows she can rely on a network of support broad enough to meet all her needs and deep enough to sustain her through many crises. In her mind, to return to Springfield is become entangled in a web of disease and dysfunction, to places that deform the better habits of the mind and heart. Mallory knows where temptation lies; she believes she has been delivered from a host of evils, and she does not want to be rendered into their clutches again.

But time and circumstances are conspiring against her wish to stay in Boston. She is shuttling around the city meeting with housing, employment, and CORI counselors and other social services specialists to work an eleventh-hour miracle. Understandably, she has no time now to continue tutorials with me. She regrets it, but she said her life is really in a mess.

I told her that I cannot help her much now, but I will do the best for her I can—I will pray. You can do that, too, so pray with me for Mallory.

Prayer From Ecclesia Ministries

Ecclesia Ministries (http://www.ecclesia-ministries.org) is a spiritual community for the men and women who live on the streets of Boston. Common Cathedral, a weekly ecumenical celebration of the Eucharist on Boston Common, is the centerpiece of its mission.

Three times a year, Ecclesia leads an overnight urban outreach program called CityReach. Youth and young adults learn about homelessness from persons who are currently or formerly homeless, provide hospitality through gifts of food and clothing, and engage in street ministry.

The following is a prayer that was written by the CityReach volunteer teams on Oct. 21, 2006, after an afternoon of theological and practical reflection.

Gracious God of charity, loving Creator, our almighty warm embrace and Holy Wisdom,

You open our eyes and minds and hearts. You suffer with us, and you love the unlovable. You fill our needs, as when you took pity on us and performed a miracle of compassion to feed the five thousand. You are our faithful and patient provider.

Renew us and help us to remember your people. Work through us as we continue our service to others. Bring privilege to those who are less privileged. Help us to pray for people who need homes. Protect the vulnerable, and give them hope. Make those who are strong stand up for the weak, and give them courage to welcome the outsider and change unjust systems. Renew our faith so we may embrace other people without judgment.

Build our community, Lord. We need a larger table and more chairs for the heavenly banquet. Make your kingdom come quickly.

We ask all this in the name of Jesus Christ, your Son, homeless in this world, but at home with you and the Holy Spirit, now and forever. Amen.