Have You Seen Joan

May 24, 2009
Year B
Ephesians 1:15-23
Luke 24: 44-53
For Ascension Sunday
Repreach of “Have You Seen Joan?”


It has been about 19 years ago now. I was a senior at Northwestern University. I had started out in the journalism program, one of the best in the country. Yet it seemed that school was not fulfilling for me. When I looked at my grades, I knew that I could do much better than I was doing. I was at a period of questioning in my life, I was searching for meaning. This had been a very busy time in my life, a lot was going on. In my search for answers, I had even changed my major to religion. But things were still not right, I was still not happy.
I had one quarter left before I would graduate. And looking into the darkness of the future, I had no idea of what I was going to do next. More importantly, I did not have the energy to find out. I was tired of working to pay my tuition, tired of having papers to write, and frankly, just plain tired of dealing with the red tape of life. So, on the day that I had to move out of my rented room for the summer, instead of registering for my last quarter of school, I put my things in storage and checked into a homeless shelter.
The shelter in Evanston had room for 30 people. 25 men and 5 women. This was a shelter for adults, so most women would have to go somewhere with their children. So usually, not all of the women’s beds were filled. We were allowed to stay for three months as long as we followed the rules. We had to check into the shelter every night by 10:30 pm. There was no drinking, smoking or fighting with the other guest. And you had to be ready to leave the shelter by 7 in the morning. We called the shelter, Hilda’s place after the director.
I must have been there about a month and a half, when Joan moved in. She was from Milwaukee. She was 34 years old, with 2 children. As I got to know her, I learned that she had some mental issues, as well as being addicted to cocaine and alcohol
When we would come into the shelter and try to get to know one another, the first question that you would be asked, was so what is your sad story. There was always some sad reason that we were there. Joan was a journalist, very intelligent and very articulate. She lived a very happy life with her two children in their own house. As her life unraveled, she lost everything, and ended up in Chicago.
After three months, Joan and I were given a transitional apartment. We could live for free, but we have to save up our money to be able to make a deposit on an apartment.
During this time, I went on with my daily activities. But I felt that I had gained a whole new perspective on life. Today, we hear and talk a lot about homelessness. And we have an image of who homeless people are and how we should deal with them.
I listened to a lot of conversations on homelessness, and how we as a society should deal with it. Perhaps, if we had enough jobs, or enough people to help, everyone would have a place to go. Or perhaps is we could just raise the self esteem of people and teach them a better way of life, everything would be okay.
But the explanations that we make up, don’t always fit the reality of the people and their stories. There were a lot of times when I felt that I was an alien, listening to the thoughts of others, and just not understanding.
For instance, I remember listening to a speech of a man who was in tears, because he had met a women sitting on a park bench crying. He made up a whole story about the women, and felt so guilty that he never bothered to help her. I remember being so frustrated because I could not help but to wonder why he would just assume she was homeless. Why didn’t he just speak to the woman to say hello, instead of making up a story about her. Like many people, he was willing to feel guilty about doing something big, but he was not even willing to relate to the woman.
And there was the time when I was in the Northwestern library, and a classmate of mine, Heather, had organized a canned food drive for the homeless. I told her that was a nice guesture, but most of the homeless people that I knew did not have can openers in their pockets. And most of us were not as resourceful as Joan, who one day borrowed a hot plate, and cooked her can of soup right there on the street.
I feel that it is important to tell my story, because we get caught up on our impressions. So we give to causes in hopes that they are making a difference. But what is it really that we are giving people and why?
As I said, my roommate Joan was a journalist. So one of the first things that she did when she came to Chicago, was to ask the Chicago Tribune if she could write a story about homelessness. One the night before she had to turn the story in, we talked about it. Her words have stuck with me all of this time. In her interviewing other people in the shelter, she realized that if they were to shut the shelter down and tell us all to go home. Not one of us would be at a lost of where to go. We all had families, and a place to go. Yet there was always a reason that people felt alienated from their families.
Joan went on to note that the search for a homeless shelter is not really a search for a physical bed, or food or clothing. People on the tramp trail (as living in shelters is affectionately called) are really on a spiritual journey. They are in search for a spiritual bed, spiritual covering, and spiritual food.
I was not born a Methodist. The seeds of my decision to devote my life to the Methodist church began in the help that I received during that time in my life. The mystery of God was not in the physical help that I received, it was in the grace that I felt for the first time in my life. I didn’t have to earn my keep, or answer any questions. I was just taken care of.
One day a Methodist minister brought his campus ministry group to worship with us in the shelter. Afterwards, Jack came up to me and told me that I appeared to be such a happy person. I think it was the reflection of the purple sweatshirt that I had on. People have told me that purple makes me glow. Because happy is not a verb that I would ever use to describe myself. But the interesting thing is, that after he said that - I didn’t need to live that life anymore. I joined his campus ministry, went back to school and went on the seminary. All because of one word of kindness from a stranger.
I often wondered if the people who volunteered to help us realized that people go to homeless shelters in search of the same things that people who haven’t lost their patience with society would go to church.
As members of the shelter grew together and shared our stories, they were not stories of houses burning down, or robbers taking everything. They were stories of significant relationships breaking down. They were stories of marriages falling apart, or of alienation from parents, or dealing with the death of a loved one. Even today, when I talk with people who ask for money- I always ask about their family. And I always find some type of alienation.
Some people can get their spiritual fulfillment by going to work or spending time in community. But when they cant find community, many people seek the tramp trail. It is called a trail, because people go from shelter to shelter, church to church telling their sad story over and over again. And once you start to get responses to your story – you get accustomed to that lifestyle. You get accustomed to getting taking care of.
Which is why I am not comfortable with our approaches to homelessness. After awhile, it starts to enable to behavior that it tries to address. Even the walk in ministry here in Oak Park talks about ways to empower those who ask for help, to change their lifestyles in order to needing the services. It is important to give to those in need, but until the spiritual issues are addressed, nothing will ever change.
There were many times in my stay with Joan, where I wondered if I would ever get out of that situation alive. There were many times when she threatened me. There were times when she didn’t say anything, I just woke up with the gas from the stove turned on. My prayer to God was that if I ever got out of the situation alive, my mission would not be to the homeless people I lived with, but with the nice church people that helped me.
I will never forget the first day I went to the community dinner at First Presbyterian Church. The people were so proud that they had given me a meal. Yet I was concerned that this was the worst day of my life. A day when I was totally confused, and had no answers of what was happening and what to do. And yet no one talked to me, no one said anything about their faith, their call to help me.
I wanted to give those nice church people one message – that in the midst of all of your giving – make sure that you give Jesus Christ.
There are people in the world who are really looking for what you have – a relationship with a Lord and savior who cares. And guides.
I think that this is a fitting story for ascension Sunday – because it reminds us of the importance of Jesus in our lives.
Jesus had been in the world- teaching and leading his disciples. When the time came, he went to his destiny the cross. And their destiny was to continue on his work. The ascension is his promise that we are fully equipped to continue this work. To feed the hungry, to clothe the naked, the set the prisoners free. We are to meet the physical needs of those on need. But more importantly we are to meet the spiritual needs – to love one another. We are called to be the church – the place not where we heal, but where we lead others to the healer. So that they can have a relationship with the Jesus we know.
At one point, Joan had as many as seven men living in our house. Whenever they got kicked out of the shelter, Joan would take them in. We only had six months to live in our apartment. Joan was pretty far gone at the end of those six months. She had really gotten in a drug culture, and her illness got much worse. At the end of the six months, Joan’s mother picked her up and she went back home to her family and I went back to school. When I walked around, I would see a lot of the men that lived with us. And we would always end our conversation with the question – Have you seen Joan?
None of us ever saw Joan again. But I think as Jesus ascends to heaven, he asks us all have you seen Joan? If so what was she doing? And how did you respond? With care and understanding, or with continued alienation. Amen.