Plymouth Street Ministry journal entry, Pastor David, May 22, 2015
A number of us volunteers, including a brand new person, Kelly, were down outside Sojourners on a welcomingly warm evening with lots of sun. It was a fairly quiet night overall. Maybe 25 or so people stopping by for a bag of goodies, or to talk, or both.
We had the wonderful privilege of being introduced to Rufus, a puppet recently acquired by one of the children at Beacon House . Many pleasant conversations. All the people I spoke with were in good moods, even if bemoaning and frustrated with their current situations. I think the weather was a major cause of that.
One moment stood out for me during the evening, and I mentioned it in my sermon on Sunday, which was Pentecost Sunday. I was preaching about community, how the Spirit binds us together, and how our street ministry is not about using the language of words to tell homeless people that they need Jesus, or what they should do, but that we use the language Jesus modeled for us: the language of generosity, kindness, compassion, and love, and with that language we build a holy community.
Here is what I said in the sermon: “A woman had come early on and mentioned that she wanted a cigarette, and was hoping some others would come soon so she could get one. Then she left, and later on when a larger group was there she came back. She walked up to a woman, probably had bought a cigarette from her before, and asked if she could buy a cigarette off her. The other woman didn't have any. She did have some tobacco for hand-rolling, though she had no papers. Another woman heard and said, “I have some rolling papers.” The first woman says, “I don't know how to roll a cigarette.” The other two said, “We'll show you.” So they sat down on the pavement on the parking lot there, these three women. They formed a circle, an intimate circle, a trinity of women, as one opened the pouch of tobacco, the other opened up the rolling papers, and as they taught the first woman how to roll a cigarette. Then they sat there, in communion with one another, for a few minutes sharing of one another and sharing a moment. Don’t need bread and wine for communion, just kindness and love toward one another.
They formed this beautiful little community, right there, in a parking lot outside a homeless shelter sharing a time to smoke. It just doesn't get any more Pentecostal than that. That’s the moment. They all understood each others’ language because they were speaking the language of grace. The language of kindness. The language of generosity. The language of love.”
Please keep in your prayers all who are homeless, all who are underpaid, all who struggle to live day by day, and pray for us and for our political and religious leaders that we find a place in our heart to hear the Holy Spirit calling, and to finally decide to refuse to continue allowing, however tacitly, a system that keeps people in poverty and which so dehumanizes the poor, and instead live the language of Jesus: reckless, boundless, radical love.
Rev. David J. Huber
Plymouth United Church of Christ
A number of us volunteers, including a brand new person, Kelly, were down outside Sojourners on a welcomingly warm evening with lots of sun. It was a fairly quiet night overall. Maybe 25 or so people stopping by for a bag of goodies, or to talk, or both.
We had the wonderful privilege of being introduced to Rufus, a puppet recently acquired by one of the children at Beacon House . Many pleasant conversations. All the people I spoke with were in good moods, even if bemoaning and frustrated with their current situations. I think the weather was a major cause of that.
One moment stood out for me during the evening, and I mentioned it in my sermon on Sunday, which was Pentecost Sunday. I was preaching about community, how the Spirit binds us together, and how our street ministry is not about using the language of words to tell homeless people that they need Jesus, or what they should do, but that we use the language Jesus modeled for us: the language of generosity, kindness, compassion, and love, and with that language we build a holy community.
Here is what I said in the sermon: “A woman had come early on and mentioned that she wanted a cigarette, and was hoping some others would come soon so she could get one. Then she left, and later on when a larger group was there she came back. She walked up to a woman, probably had bought a cigarette from her before, and asked if she could buy a cigarette off her. The other woman didn't have any. She did have some tobacco for hand-rolling, though she had no papers. Another woman heard and said, “I have some rolling papers.” The first woman says, “I don't know how to roll a cigarette.” The other two said, “We'll show you.” So they sat down on the pavement on the parking lot there, these three women. They formed a circle, an intimate circle, a trinity of women, as one opened the pouch of tobacco, the other opened up the rolling papers, and as they taught the first woman how to roll a cigarette. Then they sat there, in communion with one another, for a few minutes sharing of one another and sharing a moment. Don’t need bread and wine for communion, just kindness and love toward one another.
They formed this beautiful little community, right there, in a parking lot outside a homeless shelter sharing a time to smoke. It just doesn't get any more Pentecostal than that. That’s the moment. They all understood each others’ language because they were speaking the language of grace. The language of kindness. The language of generosity. The language of love.”
Please keep in your prayers all who are homeless, all who are underpaid, all who struggle to live day by day, and pray for us and for our political and religious leaders that we find a place in our heart to hear the Holy Spirit calling, and to finally decide to refuse to continue allowing, however tacitly, a system that keeps people in poverty and which so dehumanizes the poor, and instead live the language of Jesus: reckless, boundless, radical love.
Rev. David J. Huber
Plymouth United Church of Christ