I woke up today interested in attending either the Greek Orthodox church I passed last night while walking from the train station to my motel, or the Presbyterian church I found on Google maps which was in even closer walking distance. It seemed appropriate to engage in sacrament while in Sacramento. Instead, I accepted an invitation to go the the Army of Salvation church from a cross eyed, toothless, homeless guy wearing a skull cap, hoodie, dirty sweat pants, and carrying all his possessions in a plastic bag.
My first visit to Sacramento was in 1972 as a hitch hiking, semi homeless 19 year old vagabond. My second visit to Sacramento involved befriending Edward, a full fledged homeless 40 year old. It's a circle of life kind of thing.
This morning's breakfast meant donuts in the shop across the street from my motel. As I sat at a small table enjoying a bismark and coffee I noticed that all the customers were single black men, all in varying degrees of mental illness or hangover. The exception was the two white, fully grown, skater dudes wearing chains, steam punk boots, ammo belts, Magritte bowler hats, and leather. They rode across the parking lot and up to the front door of the donut shop like pros, flipped their boards into the air and caught them with deft one handed grabs, waltzed right in, politely ordred three donuts each, stuffed the bags of donuts into their back packs, and rode off into the morning sunshine like this was normal behavior for thirty year olds.
Two black guys sat at the table next to me, one of whom had a big Twelve Step book. The guy with the book turned around and said sweetly, "Good morning, sir, God bless you. Would you like to join me for church this morning?"
I asked, "Which one?"
He said, "The Army of Salvation church. I walk there every Sunday after I stop at Safeway and this donut shop."
I said, "That's kind of you to offer, but I think I'll pass."
He said, "Okay," and continued to talk to the other guy at his table.
A few minutes later he shoved his Twelve Step book into his clear plastic bag and got ready to leave. I'd done some calculating and figured I really had no other plans and besides, this was the first friendly invitation I've received from anyone to join them in any social activity in three weeks (if you don't count the Hasidic Jews in New York who asked me to buy a manorrah or the hawkers in Times Square trying to get me to attend a Comedy Club).
"When does church start?"
"Ten o'clock."
"It's only eight thirty. What do you do until then?"
"I get free breakfast at the stand down the road."
"I'm not hungry for breakfast but I think I will join you for church."
"Okay, follow me."
I don't normally do stuff like this (never) but the sun was out, the guy had a guilelessness about him I found compelling, and I couldn't wait to learn more about the Army of Salvation church. I'm a glutton for oddball religious meetings.
During our twenty minute walk I learned his name is Edward, is a crystal meth addict in recovery, has been homeless for sixteen years, and spends every day walking. Walking, walking from place to place to place. He woke up in a park this morning but I didn't ask where, nor did I ask how he gets money for donuts or if he's still using drugs. He did quit tobacco five years ago. He gave me a long involved lecture on the dangers of cow liver and turkey gibblets. One of the reasons he stops in Safeway, if I got the story right, is because he talks to the butcher. There's something about the color of those organs that make him suspicious. He also confessed he's done things that make God unhappy and doesn't want to get condemned for them so that's why he's seeking God.
I asked, "Is this church service going to be weird?"
He laughed and said, "What do you mean?"
"They're not going to do anything to me that will be embarassing, will they?" I was in no mood to be harangued about tongues, donations, or missions but it turns out my fear was unwarranted.
He assured me no and then asked about me. I told him my wife passed away three and a half months ago and to be frank, that I find myself somewhat lost. He offered sincere condolances and then went off on other tangents about health care, cancer, the love of God, and not eating meat with blood in it.
When we got to the neighborhood for free breakfast my eyes widened. The streets in this warehouse district, single story plants and empy fields surrounded by chain link fences with razor wire, were loaded with homeless people. And I mean loaded. Tents, blue tarps, mattresses on the sidewalk (one of which had a teddy bear propped up on the pillow), shopping carts loaded with stuff, and men and women ambling about. Dozens and dozens of them. It reminded me of what Tent City in Seattle must look like, though thankfully, without the kids. Every person , like Edward, was wearing the dirty clothes they slept in.
I am almost certain the department of health would be horrified to see the trash, garbage, and unsanitary condition of this neighborhood.
Our first stop was a free hot chocolate station set up in the road by Hispanics. We both got a hot chocolate.
Our second stop was a sandwhiches and clothes donation station set up in the street by, according to the sign, Compassionate Buddhists. One hundred men and two women (if I did the math right) lined up as we stood for an hour while Buddhists made vegetarian sandwiches. I only took a banana (and donated five dollars). I talked to the organizer who runs a foot massage business during the week but has been driving two hours to Sacramento every Sunday for years to cordinate the twelve volunteers who distribute food and clothing. Later I met a guy named John who received a free sleeping bag and he groused about how small it was. I shamelessly took pictures of this astonishing line up.
During our hour long wait I learned that Edward was raised by hs grandparents, his father was "selfish" (which I took as code for having done something nefarious), and is a bona fide "homeless newspaper" distribution guy. I bought a copy (another five bucks) and can't wait to read up on the problem of homelessness from the point of view of the homeless. He also described with utter confidence his belief that he sees dead people, that the tall Environmental Protection Agency building in the distance had, according to him, appeared out of nowhere, and that it's againt the law to electrify fences.
Our third stop was the Army of Salvation warm up room which turns out was really a Salvation Army church. More about that service later.
For now let me conclude both how shocked and moved I was by the plight of the homeless masses. I've been groping for a new ministry in this new chapter of my life and after this morning I am ready to sign up for Bellingham food and clothing distribution. If a guy is going to be homeless, there's no reason why they shouldn't at least be warm and fed.
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