The Valley Catholic
Making a Difference
My brief experience as a
homeless man
Tony Magliano
For some time I
have had an interest
in the plight of the
homeless. I have read about it, prayed
over it, and have done small things
to help. But feeling that I could, and
should, do more to make a difference,
I concluded that living as a homeless
man – at least for a very brief period –
was the best way to understand what
it’s like to have no place to call home.
I decided that St. Vincent de Paul
Catholic Church, on the fringe of
downtown Baltimore, would be my
first stop. Since the parish opens its
basement to homeless people every
Friday for a hot meal, and allows them
to stay in the small park adjacent to
the church, St. Vincent’s was symbolically a good place to start my day as a
homeless man.
After praying before the Blessed
Sacrament, I hit the sub-freezing streets
with no money. After walking several
blocks I reached Our Daily Bread Employment Center – a comprehensive
facility run by Catholic Charities dedicated to supporting efforts of homeless
people to secure stable employment
and housing.
‘I more clearly understood
God’s call to each of us…’
There I got into a line of men, women and children waiting to be admitted
to the dining room where a free hot
meal is served every day. Once inside,
I sat at a table with a young man who
said he was trying to recover from drug
addiction and was homeless.
From there I walked to Health Care
for the Homeless – an organization
dedicated to providing free medical
care to people who have no permanent
residence, and would otherwise go untreated. Inside were approximately 75
homeless women and men waiting to
see a nurse. There I spoke with an older
man who had serious family problems
that caused his homelessness.
Next, I stopped at a hotel and fast
food restaurant asking if they were hiring. They were not. Then I walked the
streets of downtown Baltimore asking
March 11, 2014
commentary
15
Spirituality
Our pagan resistance to the
other world
By Father Ron Rolheiser
‘I was a richer person
for having lived one day
as a homeless man.’
people – like some homeless persons do
– for loose change to buy a cup of coffee.
I politely approached approximately
35 people. About 30 of them ignored
me, said they didn’t have any money,
or simply said no. I almost got arrested
for approaching a police officer who
sternly warned me that “panhandling”
was a crime in Baltimore.
Five people did offer me a small
donation. I explained what I was doing,
and thankfully declined their generosity. Asking strangers for a small favor
was a humbling experience.
Next stop was the Helping Up Mission – a multiservice nondenominational shelter where 53 homeless men
can get a shower, do laundry, clothes,
a clean bed, and a good supper and
breakfast. Unfortunately, there was not
enough room for everyone who came
that cold evening.
At the Mission, I talked with men
of various ages who were down on
their luck, had supper with them, and
attended an inspiring Protestant chapel
service. Later that night, as I walked
back to my vehicle, I realized that I was
a richer person for having lived one day
as a homeless man.
I thought about the homeless men
and women I encountered, and their
monumental problems, and I more
clearly understood God’s call to each
of us, our Church and our government,
to work for the day when every human
being has a decent place to call home.
• Tony Magliano is an internationally syndicated social justice and peace
columnist.
‘I too was once that young
boy sitting in religious
settings with my heart and
mind in resistance.’
Sometimes while
presiding at the Eucharist or preaching, I scan the faces in
the front pews. What do they reveal?
A few are eager, attentive, focused on
what’s happening, but a goodly number
of faces, particularly among the young,
speak of boredom, of dram duty, and
of a resignation that says: I have to be
in the church just now, though I wish I
was elsewhere.
These reactions are understandable.
We’re human, flesh and blood, and
when we try to focus on the world of
spirit or on what relativizes flesh and
blood, mortality and self-sacrifice, we
can expect that most times the reality
of this life will trump the promise of
the other world.
Sometimes, gazing at those faces
staring back at me in church, I’m reminded of a scene that Virginia Woolf
describes in “ Q