A Walk Through St. James' Social Outreach Ministries
Pale shafts of winter light enter the Cathedral's skylight dome and slowly
cross the surface of the white marble altar which stands solid on slate and
granite above the relics of saints.
High above this table of our Lord, closest to that source of light,
is a hand-painted message from the Last Supper of Luke's Gospel proclaiming
Christ's presence: "I am in your midst as one who serves."
With a commitment to the poor and vulnerable in our community, parishioners
daily bring those words new life. Through us, the light that sweeps over the
altar in a day's stroke radiates beyond the Cathedral's walls into the dark
night and helps ease the burdens and bring dignity to the lives of the least
fortunate among us.
At four in the afternoon, Joan Collin, an elderly low-income parishioner,
carries a bag of 10 egg salad sandwiches from her apartment to the rectory
in the rain. "All I can afford on my budget are 10 large eggs, some mayonnaise,
yogurt, and one long loaf," says Collin.
Her sandwiches are spicy, thick and rich. "I want mine to be really worth
eating," she says. "I do my part. I can't join the ministry on the streets,
or get downtown to the chapel to pray, so I pray here... and make sandwiches."
At 7:30 p.m., Deacon Joe Curtis stops by the rectory, loads his trunk full of
sandwiches left by many parishioners, and heads downtown to a small chapel at
Second and Stewart.
Estella Clark has arrived on foot from the International District to join
those gathering to pray as Joe and his companions head out to the rainy streets
in Operation Nightwatch.
Two nights a month about 50 St. James parishioners volunteer for this program,
which operates year-round. Tonight, Deacon Curtis, Rhodora Darang, a nurse at
Harborview Hospital, and George Roberts, a retired train porter, are the core
of this street ministry. It is their presence, face-to-face with the poor and
homeless, that the sandwiches and prayers sustain.
At 8:15 p.m., the three companions begin their night's trek. Walking the
blocks surrounding the Pike Place Market, they stop along the way to offer
encouragement to those in need and information about where to get help:
one young woman with two small children has fled her abusive husband;
a man and his wife and kids from Wyoming just need a place for two weeks
until he gets his first paycheck from a new job.
At 9 p.m., Curtis and his companions head back to the chapel to
give the people in prayer a report. Then they continue on to Operation
Nightwatch headquarters on First and Wall.
St. James parishioners are greeting new arrivals outside the entrance of
this undistinguished storefront in Belltown. There is an odd calm to the
night's damp air as those in the long line outside wait for their names to
be called. This is a referral center. Every night, volunteers locate available
beds in shelters throughout the city and pass out about 150 referral slips
in a systematic fashion to the homeless waiting for a place to sleep.
At Operation Nightwatch headquarters, sandwiches, coffee, and compassion
are distributed in abundance. The only shortage is shelter space.
Deacon Joe Curtis (L), Rhodora Darang, and George Roberts, Operation
Nightwatch Volunteers.
"These are the uncanonized saints of St. James," says Curtis of the
volunteers who return month after month. "Many are professionals with
important jobs during the day," he says. At night they transform themselves
into servants of the poor. Deacon Curtis has walked the Operation Nightwatch
beat for 17 years. He says he's seen a sad evolution. "For years there were
no children out here or very few," he says. "But now you see 10 to 15 infants
and small children a night. The number of children affected is rising rapidly."
Before returning home after midnight, Deacon Joe Curtis drives by headquarters.
The storefront is dark. All shelter beds in Seattle have been spoken for and
he volunteers have gone home. By now, hundreds of homeless men, women, and
children across the city have staked out mats lined up in rows six inches apart.
With an acute respect for invisible boundaries, they've bedded down for the night.
Dorothy Day, co-founder of the Catholic Worker movement, was one of the most
challenging and inspiring religious figures of our time. She saw a Christ who
took the side of those most in need throughout the Gospels, and asserted that
His example challenges us to see the world in which we live through the eyes
of the poor and powerless.
Dorothy Day's commitment to "community" and to Christ's message of compassion
are the basis for the Catholic Worker Family Kitchen, housed in St. James'
Cathedral Place Hall.
At 2 p.m., the van pulls up in front of St. James with food collected from
grocery stores, bakeries, and restaurants throughout the city. On the spot,
today's volunteer head cook, Nancy Hardy, designs a menu for 150 based on what
has arrived.
As Nancy carries large bags of day-old bread through the back door to the
kitchen, she hollers, "Looks like it's spaghetti again. That's okay, they
love it," and laughs.
Parishioner John Webster puts down his newspaper to help. He's volunteered
here for three years. Tonight he'll help prepare the meal and at 4:30 p.m.
sharp, he'll be stationed above a bin of spaghetti with a large spoon again,
ready to serve.
The Family Kitchen at St. James serves nourishing food and much more. Kathleen
O'Hanlon, the kitchen's coordinator for 11 years, says the goal here is to
create a warm, inviting place where people can come to feel safe, relax,
and make friends.
"We are changed by these people," O'Hanlon says. "They keep us 'real' by
teaching us about love, pain, and loneliness. Every day we break bread together
with Jesus in our midst."
At the first of the month, those on government assistance receive their
checks and food stamps. This is when the food lines here are short.
But the government stipend doesn't always stretch, and as the month wears
on, attendance here rises. At the end of the month as many as 170 show up
for a free meal. There are regulars here who have come every day for as
many as 15 years. Duane, a soft-spoken gentleman with light gray whiskers,
begins his daily trek from Jefferson and 12th punctually at 4 p.m., and
waits in a chair against the wall until dinner is served.
"When I get done paying the rent and the bills, I have no money left,"
Duane says. "That's why you see me in this line." His hands are folded
over the crook of a cane. "I like it when they pass out flowers. They do
that twice a week, you know. I like the yellow daffodils. I put sugar in
the vase and they sometimes last two weeks."
James, sitting next to Duane, nods in serious agreement. James wears a
baseball cap with his name on it. He brought his friend, Al, in the
wheelchair. "It's hard to pick up Al," he says. "I have to push him up
that hill." James takes off his hat and runs his fingers through invisible
hair. "But going home is easy. I just hang on and let him roll!"
Robert ceaselessly taps his cane on the floor's linoleum. "When are we
going to have spuds again, Nancy?" he asks. "I like that turkey gravy."
Robert goes to the library often and visits the art museum once a week.
He's dressed in distinguished gray with worn, brown leather shoes. He says
he's been coming to St. James' Family Kitchen for five years because he
doesn't like eating alone. "I'm here because I'm lonely," he says, "so I
come where the lonely come." The Family Kitchen embodies the example of
Jesus. The last are first and take their seats at the table while the
able-bodied serve, wait, and clean up. Gingham tablecloths are taken up
and sleeping mats are laid in the gaps between the tables as another
St. James social outreach ministry takes over Cathedral Hall. Winter
Shelter provides a place for 10 homeless men to sleep for the night.
St. James is a preferred destination for men who know the ropes. Compared
to other shelters in town, this large room offers some privacy, more
space between mats, and more important, a healthy hot breakfast is served
in the morning.
The Winter Shelter is operated by parishioners during
the months when it's guaranteed that the city's shelters will overflow.
Because a small volunteer staff is on duty to make beds available here,
10 fewer men are sent back to the streets.
St. James Cathedral has been a beacon of light high on the hill for nearly
a century, and its tower bells have always called out a welcome invitation
to those in need.
In these high-pressured, challenging economic times, more homeless,
more mentally ill, more immigrants, and more families in crisis come to
the church seeking God's compassion than ever before.
They often come on Sunday. In response to increasing demands for emergency
aid when many social service agencies are closed, a ministry called
Doorkeepers was established. Doorkeepers are parishioners who wear blue
name tags and make themselves available following weekend masses to listen
with a healing presence and to connect those who come seeking help with
services in the community. Working in association with Seattle Mental Health
Chaplaincy and nine First Hill churches, Doorkeepers seeks simply to open doors.
Many St. James parishioners have answered the call of The Society of
St. Vincent de Paul. They visit the homes of those in need, offering food
vouchers, chore assistance, and information about available services within
the community. This ministry, founded over 100 years ago by a recently
beatified layman, gives relief to those suffering from bleak urban poverty.
Seattle's chapter of St. Vincent de Paul has been active at St. James
since the 1920's.
"Do you know what it's like to be afraid and running with three little
girls in tow and not know where you're going?" Susan fled her violent
husband two years ago. She and her three daughters, ages one to five,
spent the next several months in crisis, going from one homeless shelter
to another. Finally, she connected with the Homelessness Project.
Providing a home for a family makes no sense without addressing the
reasons why they became homeless. That's why the Homelessness Project
works. Through this ministry, St. James parishioners help guide families
from crisis to independence. A Cathedral parishioner provides a house in
a neighboring community as a transitional home. Through donations, the
St. James Social Justice Committee furnishes the house, and provides
the family with basic necessities. A case manager, provided by the
Church Council of Greater Seattle, connects the family with services in
the community, such as health care, child care and financial assistance,
and monitors their progress weekly.
"We feel so lucky," Susan says. "It is our little home. The girls and I
planted flowers in the front yard and in the summer we had a little
inflatable swimming pool in the back yard. After not having a home and
neighbors for so long it is so healing." Susan's was the second family
the St. James program benefited. During her 15-month stay, Susan earned
her general education degree and entered a vocational training program
to become a medical assistant.
This fall, the real victory took place. Susan moved her small family
into permanent housing. "I will always be overwhelmed with the empathy
I received from the people at St. James," Susan says. "Though me and
the kids have moved on, I want them to know that they offered the help
I needed to get back on my feet. The people there are a godsend and I
will never forget them."
On Sundays, incense rises to the light of the dome like a gentle prayer.
Passion for God is declared with the peal of clarion bells, in elaborate
processions, by a radiant choir. At St. James, such devotion is also
proclaimed in the weekday making of an egg salad sandwich, or a batch
of spaghetti. God is served when someone in need is given a warm meal,
a place to sleep for the night, or a chance to change their lives.
As the dome's light diminishes, the altar settles into darkness. But
white marble does not sleep. The luminous table appears vigilant
and steadfast, suspended in dark air. At the center of our gathered
assembly is the ceaseless light of Christ.
Jackie O'Ryan is a Cathedral parishioner, writer, and the Public
Affairs Director for Catholic Community Services.
Deacon Joe Curtis (L), Rhodora Darang, and George Roberts, Operation
Nightwatch Volunteers.