Ministry among America's Economic Refugees

 "Outreach to the homeless, to the undocumented, to the migrant and the poor is often seen as extraordinary… Rather than extraordinary, it should be seen as the mission of the church… The poor have a special place in the heart of Christ, as they call on us to love as Jesus loved." Fr. McAndrew

So writes Father McAndrew, a Catholic priest who ministers in California with migrant workers. When I explain to people that I want to do outdoor church, that I want to work alongside folks who are homeless, or minister to people who are economically marginalized, I often get expressions of either awe or doubt. People say that I choose the hard places. And they either admire it or think I am crazy. Or a little of both.

I certainly do not feel particularly brave or admirable, though sometimes I wonder if I am a little crazy. Nor are the places I minister particularly hard places. Yes, the reality of life for America’s economic refugees is painful and there is no shortage of human suffering. But, I find the folks I work with to be courageous, warm, intelligent, and resourceful. I am not at all trying to minimize the reality of drugs, alcohol, or violence on the streets. That is all there. But it only seems natural that ministry should happen there and, when it does, when it really happens with and alongside people, beautiful things happen. Jesus is readily found on the streets.

Perhaps I feel differently about this because I grew up in a working class home in a deeply impoverished area of the country. Perhaps I simply find a cocktail party far more intimidating and foreign than talking to guys on the street. Certainly, I like that I can be fully myself there, something I can never do at a fancy party. I also admire the wisdom and courage of those who live on the edge in our country. Everything is stacked against them and still they survive and seek to thrive.

Perhaps I also feel differently about this because I am steeped in the story of a Galilean carpenter who was born among the underclass of Palestine and stayed there, dedicating his short life to preaching and eating with outcasts and nobodies. It is churches who have no room for the poor that seem to break the pattern set by our founder.

So, I work on the streets and alongside economic refugees because it brings me joy. It is not because I feel sorry for people (though their pain touches me deeply) or want to educate them or because it makes me feel noble and altruistic. It is because, when I walk away from a day of work, I feel I have received far more than I could ever give. And I have a faint feeling that I am walking in the footsteps of the prophet from Nazareth and living among his people.