Even Dogs

Tuesday night I was in a meeting with the Stewardship Commission. We were talking about the challenges of stewardship - how that word causes anxiety in people, anxiety over conversations about money, especially money in church, anxiety over budgets and bills, and the need that the church has for people to give the church money. Money which will be argued over and cause even more anxiety. We believe that that is a complete misunderstanding of stewardship as God intends, as the Bible conveys it, and as Jesus call us into. 

Stewardship is really about seeing life as a gift. One is called to receive the gifts of life and ponder them - is this my gift to keep? Or, is this gift being given to me to pass on, to share with others, to give back to God? How am I being called to regift God’s blessings in my life?

In the middle of that conversation a parishioner walked in looking for, pulling me out of the meeting because a homeless person had wandered into the church. I went to see how I could help. I was told that the police had been called.

I arrived into the church and immediately saw a small figure, hunched over in a fetal position, her head on the kneelers, her fists tight, ponding the kneelers as she rocked back and forth. I walked up to her and gently touched her on the shoulder and asked her if there was anything I could do for her.

She looked up at me with deep brown tear-filled eyes and said, “I just want to pray.” 

I paused a moment, then said, “Of course that’s fine. You do that. I’ll go get you some water and some food.” It was probably close to 100 degrees in the church, with high humidity. When I returned a few minutes later the police had just arrived. They hung back and watched as I took the woman the water and a bag of dried fruit and nuts. 

Again the woman looked up at me. Then, in a voice filled with despair she asked, “Will God show up?” Will God show up?

I looked at her and said, “Yes. God always shows up.”

And then again she said, “I just want to pray.”

I walked over to the police officers who were standing in the doorway, with a view of the woman, but not so close as to be threatening. They asked me what I wanted to do, “we can take her to a shelter” they said. I replied that she was fine, only wanted to pray, and not hurting anything.  Then I though about the woman, the high humidity and heat, the dangers of being out on the street all night, and I wondered if she’d be more comfortable in a shelter. So I asked her, “Would you like to go to a shelter, where you can sleep tonight, have some food, and maybe a shower?” 

She replied, NO! I am banned from all shelters for life!

The police officer, a woman, and I almost chuckled at that. Not quite, but almost. I was already beginning to see that the female lead cop knew what she was doing, taking her time, treating the woman and me with the utmost respect, wanting to be helpful but allowing the woman, and me, to make decisions on the course of action. 

The officer asked the woman if she has been in the hospital, because there was a hospital band on her wrist. Yes, she said. So the office asked if she could look at the band, and in doing so saw that the woman’s name was Connie. We also learned that she was from the west side of the state of Michigan, that she has an aunt and uncle in Florida, and that someone had told her to just walk east, so she was. 

With that information we asked again if she’d like to go to a shelter in Detroit, to a place where she could spend the night, get out of the heat, have a meal. And this time she said yes. The officers helped her gather up her bags, only two small plastic grocery bags, one of which I had just given to her, held all she had in this world. As she was getting ready to leave Connie asked me two more questions:

“Do you own this place?”

“No,” I said, “God owns this place.”

And, “I don’t see that big book with the gold pages, do you have one?

I said, “A Bible? Yes, we have one.”

“Oh good,” Connie said. “I’m glad to hear that”. 

Then she thanked me and blessed me and walked out with the police officers. 

Who was this woman, really? Some would say that this toothless, wild haired woman was Jesus. Whenever you feed a hungry one, you feed me. 

I wonder though if she was the Syrophoenician woman, bent over under the Jesus’ table, the altar of this church, Christ Church, calling me to see her? And then for me to share this story with the Stewardship Commission, who was literally talking about ways to embrace the spiritual dimensions of stewardship. And then for me to share this with all of you, so that we all can really see her. 

When Jesus first encounters this woman and she asks for help he literally blows her off, refusing to give her the time of day. Jesus even calls her a dog. But she persists saying, The dogs are allowed to eat the crumbs under the table, surely even if you think I am a dog, I am still worthy in God’s eyes.

As we start a new program year, as we begin again conversations about money, the annual fall conversation that leads to budget planning, this woman comes to us. I do not believe that her coming to us was a coincidence. She showed up on a Tuesday night, the busiest night for building activity, She did not go around pan handling. She did not wander the church looking to steal or take or bother anyone. She came to the church. She knelt at the table. She came to pray. She came to be seen. She came because our doors are open. She came to be for us a sign of who we are being called to be as Christ’s presence in the world. A people who see, really see others, and who reach out to care for others, to recognize that this gift we have of this church, the building and its resources,  are the gifts we are called to share, widely, openly, generously.

Today we will baptize little Zoey Marie into the body of Christ. For her this is the beginning of her journey as a person of faith, called to join us, Christians, as the hands and heart of Christ in the world. And we are called to feed her and this homeless woman exactly the same. To open our arms and say you are home, let me get you something to eat and to drink. Because it’s not about money at all. It’s about love.

a reflection on Mark 7:24-37 for Proper 18B