As I drove through the Tenderloin in San Francisco one afternoon I saw a woman who appeared to be in her 80's, trying to get back up on the sidewalk in her wheelchair. She was traveling backwards, trying to propel the wheelchair up the curb cutout with her feet, but wasn't quite strong enough to make it.
She had bags containing her worldly goods hanging from the handles and the look of resignation on her face was heart breaking. A young man, who also appeared to be unhoused, walked over and helped her up on to the sidewalk.
I have seen unhoused elderly in the Tenderloin nearly every day and their numbers have been increasing greatly. Seeing unhoused elderly has always saddened me, but that day...that day I felt myself feeling especially sad. I found myself once again thinking "How is it that a country with as much abundance as we have tolerate ANYONE being un-housed? Particularly our elders? Why weren't we putting as much energy into eradicating homelessness as we do to putting out fires?" Because to me, thisis as much of an emergency as a 4 alarm fire.
For those of you unfamiliar with the Tenderloin, it is a neighborhood in San Francisco that has traditionally been home to the poorest of the poor. Some call it "skid row".
The neighborhood is home to drug dealers and prostitutes, poor families and elders living in subsidized housing, many barely subsisting while living in poverty, and the un-housed, many who sleep on the streets or in their cars if they aren't able to get into housing or shelters. It is also home to the San Francisco Night Ministry, where I have been doing my Clinical Pastoral Education as a chaplain.
The San Francisco Night Ministry was founded 50 years ago by the San Francisco Council of Churches with the intention of reaching out to "street people" at night, when the only social services available were police, fire, and ambulance.
They provide crisis intervention, counseling and referral services every night of the year from 10:00pm - 4:00am. Night ministers walk the streets every night offering face to face conversations to those who are lonely, anxious, and afraid in the middle of the night, when crises are most acute and when social services aren't readily available.
There are about 14 crisis lines in San Francisco, but Night Ministry is the only one who will talk with anyone about anything. If someone wants a face to face conversation, they can make it happen. They are unique in that way. It is the longest running organization of its type in the United States.
Last year, Night Ministry engaged in over 17 thousand significant conversations. They served over 9 thousand meals, and provided hundreds of emergency interventions to the nearly 7,500 un-housed population of San Francisco - a population that is growing rapidly as income inequality widens.
The Rev. Lyle Beckman is the fourth and current Senior Night Minister. The Rev. Don Stuart was the first- beginning in September of 1964. In his vivid memoir, I'm Listening As Fast As I Can" he describes the beginning of his "his ministry of presence, not preaching." He wrote:
'I stood on the corner of Eddy and Taylor streets, The neon hands of the clock of the Budweiser sign in the liquor store across the street told me it was 11:30 pm. By the number of people milling about, it could have been the middle of the afternoon. The corner was the Times Square of illicit activity in the center of the Tenderloin district. This was where the action was. Whatever you wanted could be found within the toss of a beer bottle from where I stood."
At the time Night Ministry was founded, the streets of San Francisco were filling up with young runaways, gay refugees, and a growing population of rootless people of all stripes. San Francisco police routinely harassed and arrested people in the LGBTQ community. It was illegal to touch a person of the same sex in a provocative way, as was dancing with someone of the same sex. Transgendered people were especially targeted for harassment as it was illegal to cross dress, so police were known to use the presence of transgendered people as a pretext to raid and close down bars.
One place that transgendered folk liked to meet was Compton's Cafeteria which was located at Taylor and Turk in the Tenderloin. Preceding the more famous Stonewall riots, Compton's Cafeteria was the site of the countries first transgender and transsexual riots in the country in response to police violence.
From the beginning, San Francisco Night Ministry ministered to members of the GLBTQ community -- reaching out to them at a time when few members of the clergy would. For 50 years, they have been a source of support and comfort to the GLBTQ community--most especially to those in crisis.
As a result, Night Ministry's relationship with the GLBTQ community is especially strong and the community has been a strong supporter of Night Ministry. In fact, the applause and shouts of support when Night Ministry marches in the San Francisco Pride parade each year is a pretty impressive thing to witness.
So what does a typical night with San Francisco Night Ministry look like? We walk the streets in neighborhoods across San Francisco. We're pretty easy to spot - we wear clerical collars and walk very slowly so that folks we encounter have time to check us out and feel comfortable enough to talk with us. We also hang out in bars and coffee shops, listening to people who have things weighing on their hearts.
As we walk the streets, we are often asked for money, but we don't carry cash. Once that has been established, most of the people we encounter simply want to be seen and heard.
I recall an encounter soon after I started with Night Ministry. We began talking with a man who had been in multiple foster care homes his entire childhood and was turned out at age 18 with zero safety net. He has been on the streets ever since. He was my age but looked 20 years older. He first expressed his anger over all the people he encounters every day who don't look at him or even acknowledge his existence. Then a senior minister held him as he sobbed and sobbed. Out of the depths of his anguish, he cried out "I'm human too!" This was heartbreaking to witness and also for me, a clear reminder of our first principle.
It made me think about all the times in my life that I have hurried past the unhoused people on the street, carefully avoiding eye contact in the hopes of not being pan handled.
All the times I have walked past people sleeping in doorways without really SEEING them.
All the many micro aggressions people on the street must face as they are dehumanized over and over by the hundreds of people who pass them by and refuse to even acknowledge their very existence.
As I watched this man sob into the shoulder of the minister who held him, I vowed that I would live my faith and walk my talk. The first UU principle doesn't say "we respect the inherent worth and dignity of those who are of an "appropriate" social status or class". It says "we respect the inherent worth and dignity of all people."
To do that, I first had to be willing to confront my own prejudices and fears. I had to acknowledge that deep down, part of me held on to some misguided beliefs and judgments about the un-housed. That their being on the streets was somehow their own fault. Either they weren't trying hard enough to find a job, utilize services to help, had done something to "deserve it" or any of the myriad reasons one can come up with to blame them.
These prejudices were hard things to face. I'm an activist and organizer - have been for over 30 years. I am a very liberal, open minded Unitarian Universalist, for goodness sake!
Logically, I understood most of the societal issues that were behind homelessness. Yet, in a very deep place within me, there was unspoken prejudice and I needed to face it so I could begin to let it go.
Letting it go become a lot easier after I began talking with people on the streets. I encounter veterans trying to navigate the system in order to get the treatment and benefits they earned and need - usually without success.
I speak with the disabled who sleep in wheelchairs and are unable to afford rent in spite of their SSI payments.
I speak with far too many elderly who have lost their housing and are forced out on to the streets.
I have spoken with a brilliant former faculty member of a large university whose mental health issues cost him his job but who was hoping to get the treatment he needed so that he could continue his research and lead a productive life.
I speak with far too many youth and young adults. Youth who are often self identified as members of the GLBTQ community and whose parents have kicked them out for it--something that in spite of all our successes with marriage equality, still happens with frequency in this day and age.
And I speak with young adults, many of them aged out of the foster care system and living on the streets.
I also speak with families forced to give up their housing when an adult loses a job.
Many of the marginalized people we work with live in SRO's - single room occupancy housing- one step away from living on the streets. Many of the SRO units are quite squalid. 1 bathroom for an entire floor- imagine a hotel with only 1 bathroom per floor of rooms - you get the picture..
The rooms are barely larger than a twin bed mattress. They are often vermin infested and there are no kitchens. For this, they pay $700./mo. Yes, that is correct. $700.
When I first saw these units, I wanted to immediately do something - anything - to help improve the conditions these folks were living in. I was asked not to intervene. I was told that these things are complicated - if they are reported, instead of improving conditions for the residents, the owners will instead evict everyone, do a complete renovation and convert to condos, selling at an astronomical profit to the tech employees flooding the neighborhoods. Squalor is better than the streets, so no one talks. So instead, we try to assist those we can in getting into better housing, make referrals when requested, and listen to their stories.
And even in the SRO's, you see neighbors helping neighbors. It never fails to move me when I see those who are most marginalized and have so very little offering to share what they have with someone who has even less...or more...because in the majority of cases, those we are visiting offer to share what little they have with us - even if it is simply a bottle of water. They consistently demonstrate a sense of community that is inspiring and which surprised me when I first started working in the Tenderloin.
One visit that I will especially remember was with a man who nearly lost his life due to years of drug use. Suicidal, he called Night Ministry. That night a night minister drove to where he was and stayed with him. This minister continued ministering to this man without judgment --through years of drug use, attempts to get clean, and stints on the street. When I met him, he was celebrating being clean and sober for two years. He proudly told us about his job, re-connecting with his family, and showed off his new housing in a nicer building in the Tenderloin. His room was lovely - the floor gleamed - he had spent hours polishing it.
He had decorated his room with gorgeous crystals and his own art which was beautiful and spiritual in nature. He shared how good his life was and how much he was looking forward to getting his teeth worked on.
He then got very quiet and asked if we would join him in a prayer. He held our hands and said he owed his life to Night Ministry and the minister who never gave up on him. He asked his higher power to bless us both and in tears, looked me right in the eyes and said - "you DO make a difference!" At that moment, he was ministering to me. I had been struggling internally with all the poverty and suffering I had been witnessing and wondering if the work we were doing helped at all. I had my answer.
Working with Night Ministry also has a fun side. We are regularly invited to attend and sometimes judge drag shows by performers who we have supported over the years.
I had one of the best Easters in recent memory when we were invited by the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence to attend the "Hunky Jesus" contest in Golden Gate Park and afterward help celebrate the awards ceremony which was also a fundraiser benefitting San Francisco Night Ministry.
The Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence® are a leading-edge Order of queer nuns. They are devoted to community service, ministry and outreach to those on the edges, and to promoting human rights, respect for diversity and spiritual enlightenment. They believe all people have a right to express their unique joy and beauty and use humor and irreverent wit to expose the forces of bigotry, complacency and guilt that chain the human spirit.
Is it any wonder why this UU chaplain likes them so much?
That Easter Sunday, Sisters from all over the country filled Cafe Flora and the adjacent blocked off street. I am sure that tourists passing by may have been a little confused by the site of collared ministers and chaplains joyously dancing with the creatively dressed and made up Sisters.
Later that evening, after being tagged in several photos with draq queens and Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence, someone posted "you have the best CPE EVER!" I couldn't agree more.
And it is not just the fun that makes it the best. It is the relationships that I have with those I minister to as well as the night ministers I work with. It is the realization that this work has irrevocably changed me. It is the many ways this work embodies the principles of my Unitarian Universalist faith. It is the constant and visible reminders of our inter-connectedness.
There are many ways you can support San Francisco Night Ministry. The first and most obvious way is financially - they receive no public funding and do not charge for their services.
You can also volunteer to be a crisis line counselor
...and you can walk out one evening with Night Ministry and experience for yourself the heartache and hope that is at the heart of their work.
As Thomas Merton said "The truth that many people never understand until it is too late is that the more you try to avoid suffering, the more you suffer." To that, I would add that in the midst of that suffering are moments of exquisite beauty - beauty that would be missed if we avert our eyes.
Blessed be, and peace to you all.
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