A Super Saturday

Head Chef Cedric Rowe of Woodward Park mans the grill. The burgers and hot dogs he cooked watered the mouths of all the servers and the folks in line.

Mandy and Lorry Boe get all the fixins' ready to serve. Tori worked in between them all morning long placing the cheese for the burgers on the plates.

A glimpse of some of the homeless from Fresno in line to receive their lunch.

Another view of the line working through. About 300 people were fed.

On Saturday morning, about 30 from the Woodward Park Church of Christ met in downtown Fresno to feed the homeless from tent city and those who live near the Rescue Mission and the Poverello House.

Mandy, the girls and I joined the group and it was a heart-warming experience. We were able to meet and interact with many different people who, for one reason or another, have been displaced. The faces you see in the pictures are those who have been pushed to the margins in our city, whether by luck, circumstance or poor choices.

Our purpose wasn't to judge their plight but to serve their needs. In the introduction of Jesus's ministry, he opened a scroll to Isaiah 61.1-2 and proclaimed, "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me because the Lord has anointed me to preach good news to the poor."

For some, we were able to speak good news. We were able to witness to the difference Jesus can make. For others, it was simply the meeting of a basic need, nourishment, that provided their Saturday with a ray of good news.

I'm grateful to be in Fresno and grateful to be a part of a church with a heart for the less fortunate. In the past, speaking of the justice of God in benevolent acts was very theoretical.

In Fresno, it is very real.

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As I mentioned in my sermon yesterday, one of the discoveries I made was how depth relationally is built among brothers and sisters in Christ who share a common passion. Simple acts of compassion, when done in community with other brothers and sisters, not only helps the needy but strengthens the bonds of fellowship in a tangible way. Shared compassion has a way of developing relational depth and appreciation within the body of Christ that is unlike many other fellowship avenues.

To learn that lesson first-hand and to know that my daughters learned from the experience as well is something I cherish.

As I shared with the church on Sunday, my heart is convicted by the need to take the church to those in need of hope. When I was in Lubbock in January, I was touched by the efforts of the Greenlawn Church of Christ. A Wednesday night Bible class had committed to move their Wednesday night class to a city park in the poorest section of Lubbock for the express purpose of being salt and light to the less fortunate. From that one endeavor begun last fall, several baptisms and untold contacts have been made. Kingdom seed has been sown and the kingdom has grown.

I'm thinking the area around Ventura and G Street in downtown Fresno is ripe for the same type of ministry...the same type of outreach.

For those of you from Woodward Park, plans are already underway to go downtown again in May and duplicate our effort to be salt and light by spending a Saturday feeding the homeless. Many of you responded to me privately of your desire to be a part of the next effort -- whether by your personal presence in service or by donating to offset the cost of the food. I do hope you will continue to pray for this ministry and plan to be a part of the next opportunity to serve.

It just might be the most valuable mission trip you ever experience!

Return to Cass Park

The blog posts of Josh and Kara Graves have really touched my heart. Considering the undue influence of commericalism, especially at Christmas, it is refreshing and convicting to hear of others who see the mission of mercy to the lost and the least as viable. I'm reminded of Jesus's own words: "whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me (Matthew 25.40)."

Following the death of Professor Jack (you can read his story here and here), the Graves' returned to Cass Park to continue helping the homeless, connecting and sharing. Here is Kara's recap of their return to Cass Park.

Today, our group headed to Cass Park again. We are now going to be going every third Sunday of each month because it is so meaningful to all of us that go.

I first want to thank everyone who has been so supportive this time, giving of your time making soup, buying long underwear, and donating money. I was overwhelmed by all of the donations and help we received!We headed down to Cass Park with my trunk and Josh's trunk full of long underwear, my backseat stocked with about 70 dozen chocolate chip cookies (in Jack's memory, he had asked for us to bring some because they were his favorite), and others carried the hotdogs, soup, chapstick, grills, bread, pop, and fruit! Stephanie came up with the amazing idea to have pre-stamped envelopes with paper and pens so that they could write letters to family.

I wish I could have pictures for you but I don't, for one, the pictures in my head are too beautiful that a real one would never do, and we have worked hard to be friends and be relationships for the people there, not tourists with their cameras who want to do their good deed.

We arrived around 2, the long johns were all gone at 2:15 (I bought almost $500 worth of long underwear plus all the donations to give you an idea of the need and the amount of people there). We fed everyone until around 4:30 when we left.

Let me tell you about someone we were able to spend time with. Francis has become a special person to us, we have been keeping in touch with him for a couple months now and he was the one that called us when Jack died. Francis pays for a bus ride back and forth to his job at Somerset mall cleaning (for those of you not in Michigan, Somerset is a very ritzy mall where I can't afford much at all). Think of how hard that would be, working at Somerset and then riding a bus back to a shelter in Cass Corridor, I can't even imagine. He is from Jamaica and the most beautiful person I think I know, he has a smile that will melt you to pieces. Francis is trying so hard to get back on his feet after being in a car accident that caused him to become homeless for the past 6 months.

We will be having dinner with Francis on Tuesday, I hope to have a picture of us with him to show you. Pray for all of us this week as Josh is trying so hard to get him into a better living situation closer to where he works, it might mean that Francis comes and lives with us for a couple weeks which is totally fine with me, I would love it! Josh and I were talking on the way home and it broke our hearts to think that on Christmas he will be in that shelter alone so we are going to ask him to join us, I know he would love nothing more than to be able to play games and watch a movie with people that want to be near him.

I feel as if I have found my place working with the homeless in Detroit, I come alive when I get to help them and find little things to do for them. This week was so much fun buying long underwear and baking until 2 in the morning knowing how happy they would be to see us.

Professor Jack Revisited

IANNUCCI JOHN B.

December 05, 2006 "JACK" Age 50, December 1, 2006.

Loving father of Melissa Iannucci (Rich Thompson), Jacqueline, Lia, and Ezra. Cherished grandfather of Devin, Sydney, and Zoe. Dearest son of John (Yolanda) and the late Barbara. Brother of Patricia (Jon) Iannucci-Waller, Lea, Dino, Nancy (David) Welke and the late Frank. Uncle of Dylan, Alex, and Isabella. Former husband of Patty. Liz, mother of Jack's son Ezra. Funeral Wednesday Noon at the A.H. Peters Funeral Home, 20705 Mack Ave. at Vernier Rd., Grosse Pointe Woods. Visitation Tuesday 2-9 p.m. with a Rosary at 7 p.m. Memorials may be made to the Salvation Army, 16130 Northland Drive, Southfield, MI 48075.

Again, the words of Josh Graves:

Some of you have heard me talk, write and get excited over Professor Jack, a man I’d been honored to work with in Cass Park and the Salvation Army Shelter across from the Masonic Temple downtown.

I got a call yesterday from Francis, one of Jack’s friends in the shelter.

“Josh…it’s not good.”

“What’s not good?”

“It’s Jack, man. He died. They rushed him out of here to Detroit Receiving. I know you were working with him, I know you were close. I just thought I’d call to tell you.”

“Francis, you have no idea how much this phone call means to me…”

I attended the viewing and funeral for John “Jack” Iannuchi yesterday and today.

Last night, Jack’s daughters huddled around my phone to listen to his voice. I had saved a voicemail he’d left me last week wishing me a belated Happy Thanksgiving.

“I’m really sorry I can’t make it,” (we were supposed to have dinner together) “I’ve just been feeling awful lately.”

His sisters and daughters had not heard his voice in quiet some time. You haven’t lived until men like Jack leave you messages on your phone.

The family, to my complete surprise, asked me to have a part in the funeral today because Jack told us about the “priest he’d been working with.” Never had I been so proud to be called “priest.”

I could barely get the words out at the funeral. I told his family that Jack had a mind of great intellect. My 200 plus hours of undergraduate and graduate education in college were no match for his wisdom. More than a great mind, Jack had a huge heart. “Very few people,” I stammered, “possess great knowledge and great love. Jack—your father, brother, husband, and grandfather—was such a person.”

And from Josh's wife, Kara:

Josh went to the viewing tonight, he wanted Jack's family to know that we cared about him and that he taught us a lot about life and faith. The family soaked up every word Josh said about him, listening to the message Josh had on his phone dozens of times just to hear his voice. They have asked Josh to speak at the funeral tomorrow which I know for him is very humbling.

The most poignant thing that Jack said was when we asked what we could do for him -- fully expecting to be asked for a place to stay, money, etc. -- all he said was "you have already done what I needed, you made me feel like a real human for a day."

I am thankful that we were a part of his life for this short time, and because of our relationship with him, we will continue to go down and get to know more people and just be present in their lives...and to make them feel human...because that is what they deserve.

Professor Jack and Poverty

I was moved when I read the following blog entry from Josh Graves, a minister and teacher in Rochester, Michigan. The encounter Graves shares through his interaction with "Professor Jack" is the essence of missional ministry; it fits the very objective Jesus himself described in his job description in Luke 4.18-19: "The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to release the oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor."

Several of us (as in 100 plus) from the church I serve and the college I teach for decided to be a part of a “love feast” for the poor and homeless persons who live in and around Cass Park in Downtown Detroit. Cass Corridor is a notorious section of Detroit—known for rampant prostitution, drugs and destitution. The people who live down here swear, “The police have given up on this place.” The men and women who call this area “home” welcomed us into their space with love, acceptance, and hospitality.

Cass Park is within a stone’s throw of mighty Ford Field and Comerica Park, home to two professional sports teams—the Detroit Lions and Detroit Tigers. The two stadiums, and the millions of dollars they represent in profits each year, cast a long and dark shadow over this area the locals call “Jurassic Park”—referring to the violence and chaos often experienced by its inhabitants.

Some of us involved in the feast have experience working with the poor. Others were experiencing the power of “solidarity with the poor” for the first time.

When Kara (my wife) and I arrived at Cass Park, the food and clothing distribution line was in full force. College students and life long members of the church were working at a feverish and quiet efficient pace. One thing was obvious: our service was not needed. We decided that rather than being in the position of power, which suburbanites often fall back to when working with the poor, we would seek out persons to talk with, to simply be present.

My friend Andy Turner, who has taught me a great deal about city life, was already in conversation with several men at the southern end of the park. Kara and I decided to join him. I did not realize how meaningful these conversations would prove to be. I have 84 hours of college graduate education, and 130 of undergraduate training. None of those hours contained the wisdom I was about to be imparted.

One of the men engaged in dialogue with Andy was Jack. I prefer calling him Professor Jack, for he allowed the three of us into his classroom and offered us a humble but powerful class that could be titled “Life as I See it”. Jack’s body is failing him, he struggles to walk. Imagine being homeless and physically handicap. Jack’s mind is strong however, strong as it ever was.

I don’t want to make this too Disney—Jack admits he’s made a lot of poor decisions in his life. He has battled a drug addiction for some time. He’s on the streets because of it. But…he’s also had a good deal of decisions made for him; things that were way beyond his control. This notion struck me several times during our conversation: “Humans do not lose control,” Barbara Brown Taylor reminds me. “We lose the illusion that we were ever in control in the first place.”

If you had the eyes to see and the ears to hear, it was quite the holy conversation. There were no pews, sacraments, or prayers—but God was oh, so present. Here are a few of the things Professor Jack shared with his new pupils.

Professor Jack on authenticity. When I asked him what people could do for the poor and homeless, he replied, “Make us feel real. We want to feel like we are real people. You’ve done that today. See us. Talk to us. Be with us. Help us feel. It isn’t just about feeding us or giving us clothes, it’s about seeing us.”

Professor Jack on human dignity. I made the mistake of saying “that’s no big deal” after Jack had just finished ostracizing some folks for complaining about the food. “No, that’s not ok. We’re human beings just like you. Don’t say ‘that’s o.k.’—expect something from us just like you would any other human.”

Professor Jack on church and state. “You think the city or any other government cares about the poor? You’re crazy. The only thing holding things together for the homeless are the churches. If it wasn’t for the churches, things would be unmentionable. I can’t even imagine what would happen if the churches weren’t so invested in the city.” And in discussing the indifference of government for the poor he noted, “They don’t even have places for the poor to use the bathroom. We have to do the most self-degrading things just to use the bathrooms. Makes us feel like animals. Know what I’m saying?” I wish I could’ve replied, “Yeah, Jack, I feel your pain.” But if I did, I’d be lying. I have never known the pain that was pent up inside of Jack.

Professor Jack on community. After I left, Andy and Jack continued to talk about life, pain, and meaning. At one point, Jack pulled out a candy bar and offered it to Andy. “I couldn’t,” Andy reacted. “Why not? C’mon, they won’t let me take it back into the shelter. Have this with me. Share this with me.” Hearing Andy describe this moment, that place where heaven and earth kiss, I could not help but think “this is one of the best communion stories I’ve heard in a long time.” There was no bread or wine present, but the holy solidarity embodied by Christ was dripping from each passing second. It is difficult for persons who are used to being in the role of giver (even in the most subtle of ways like working in a soup kitchen, or stitching up a patient in the ER) to being in the position of receiving. Until we follow this aspect of Jesus’ life, going from host to hosted, we will miss out on the true power of God’s way in our lives.

Before I left, I asked Professor Jack if there was anything, and I meant anything, that Kara and I could do for him. I looked him dead in the eye, “Tell me what you need Jack.” He replied quickly and humbly, “I’m fine, really. I’m good. What you’ve done today, keep doing this.”

Shane Claiborne says that the real tragedy in our country is not that rich Christians do not care about the poor—but that rich Christians “do not know the poor.” Jack teaches me that the poor want to be known; they have faces, names, history’s and stories. They have a great deal to do with the in-breaking of God’s kingdom among us.

Maybe this is what Jesus meant when he said he could be searched for and found among the poor (Mt. 25).