I grew up around art and a few artists. I looked to people who had a reverence for the world at large. A natural contemplative awareness developed, as in many children before it is covered over. Call it awe, which Abraham Heschel describes as an “intuition for the dignity of all things, a realization that things not only are what they are but also stand, however remotely, for something supreme.” No wonder I became both a photographer and an Episcopal deacon.
Imagine you're walking through a big city and you see a homeless person. You have several options.
The feet and legs of the homeless men we serve at the Bowery Mission in New York are a testimony to the pain they endure daily. Many of their legs are swollen because, like Jesus, they have nowhere to lay their head to rest.
Looks like Jesus the Homeless is coming to Chicago. Erica Demarest reports that the local Catholic Charities office plans to put up one of Timothy Schmalz's sculptures—which depict an unkempt Jesus, with stigmata, sleeping on a park bench—this spring. Weekend Edition did a segment Sunday on the sculpture at St. Alban's Episcopal in Davidson, North Carolina. Apparently some locals aren't fans.
I gave the woman a Dunkin Donuts gift card and told her to get something hot. She didn't thank me. She said, "Those mittens look warm."
I recently spent a night on the streets of London. I had two companions, who wondered if I was checking up on them in some way.
I once nailed the doors of my church shut. I needed to keep a burglar out who'd been looking for something to huff. Still, it seemed so antigospel.
The opportunity arose for our church to host a group of homeless people. We anticipated that people might threaten to leave if we went through with it. We weren't prepared, however, for the newly baptized Kathryn.