Lent Confessions 2014, Day 21: In my early days running a social services program for a food bank, I frequently found myself swimming in unfamiliar territory. With a background in arts and the humanities, suddenly immersing myself in the world of a needs-based charity required a delicate learning curve. One of my earliest assignments was to go to agencies (mostly rural churches) who were hosting a food distribution and get to know them a little better so that when we rolled out our social service assistance program, I would have a better idea of places most ideal to meet with clients. After being on the job only two weeks, I suddenly found myself in Lisman, Alabama at a church that was located in what can only best be described as in the middle of I have no idea where I am. I arrived about 10 minutes before the truck carrying the provisions. This was a good time to meet with the pastor (who befriended me quickly) and to start greeting parishioners who were volunteering to help hand out the food boxes to their friends and neighbors....most of whom lived in poverty that is almost beyond comprehension for most of my friends. The truck arrived as I was having a casual conversation with the pastor and his brother. The pastor excused himself to go check on the unloading process. Apparently there was a problem with the delivery. The pastor was under the assumption that their delivery was going to be almost twice as what arrived on the truck. The driver (one of our warehouse workers) only knew what was on the manifest. Being a manager I was quickly brought in to help figure out the issue. Bear in mind that Im so new on the job, that most of the terminology hadnt gotten comfortable coming out of my mouth. I call back to the food bank and am given a slightly better understanding of what happened (a misunderstanding on the part of the agency, not the food bank) and do my best to assuage the growing tension in the pastors office. He seems to be placated (for the time being), but he feels that hell need to explain to his volunteers that each person receiving food would be getting less than anticipated. We walk into the sanctuary and the pastor addresses his congregants to apprise them of the situation....or so I thought. Instead he opens with Now we seem to have a little issue with the delivery that you all need to know about, and Brother Brent here is going to tell us all about it....and then lead us all in a word of prayer. Suddenly I am facing a congregation of quizzical faces looking at me with frank curiosity. I took the microphone and realized that I still havent got the foggiest idea of what really happened to the food order, and here I was (still a practicing Jew at this point) standing at the pulpit of an African-American church trying to ease a crowd that could turn on me at any second. And thats when Divine Inspiration began to take over. I started out with a blanket apology then segued into a short understanding of helping out our fellow man. At that point a few Amens were called out from around the room. Being the actor that I am, I took those Amens as the same thing as encouraging applause...and thats when I started to get more into the spirit. I started talking about love and compassion and feeding each other with more than bread and water. The Amens were coming in more steadily. The tone of my voice took on more assertion (and possibly at little preacher-drawl was affected). I built and built and even referenced the feeding of the 5,000. At this point I was so overcome by the moment that in my over-enunciated middle-American non-accent I asked can I get an Amen? To which I was greeted with a thunderous response. I then led what can only be described as the most vivid and passionate public prayer on the subject of warehouse miscommunication and the miracle of the loaves and fishes that has ever been proclaimed. Once the food distribution began, I made my way around to congregants and townsfolk who were so thankful for what they were getting. My enthusiasm over my current pulpit triumph faded into true humility as I watched people who were so desperate for hope showing such pride and genuine gratitude over getting a box of canned goods and boxed meals. Throughout my tenure at the food bank I visited that church several times. Though that was the only time I ever found myself in an oratorical situation. I know that my words were meaningful...even if I didnt really mean them at the time. I did find my faith to be given a reprieve that day. But it was the faith that I have in mankinds ability to care for even the poorest of our neighbors to be firmly secured. God Bless the ones in need. Mea Culpa!
Posted on: Sat, 29 Mar 2014 03:15:11 +0000
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