Mennonites on the Bowery

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Mennonites on the Bowery

by Charlie Kraybill

Theres a building boom on the Bowery these days. Its been happening for a while, but the last couple years havewitnessed an escalation in development, turning the neighborhood into a hip destination point.

Fifty years ago the Bowery was the largest skid row in the world. There were gin joints and flophouses on every block.Thats all gone now, thanks to the forces of gentrification. In their place are condos, art galleries and upscale eateries.

Only one skid-row relic remains: the Bowery Mission.

Some of my earliest memories are of sitting behind the Missions pulpit in the 1960s, looking onto a sea of expectantfaces while my father preached. In retrospect I realize the men behind those faces were awaiting the sermonsconclusion so they could get their grub. I also remember Dad leading Mennonites on walks where wed see groupsof men lying on the sidewalk. Such scenes became increasingly rare in the 1980s, though, for by then the bars werealready disappearing.

Yet the Mission has endured, even thrived. According to tax forms posted on their website, Christian Herald (theMissions owners) took in revenue exceeding $10 million in FY 2010. President and CEO Edward Morgan got paid over$186,000 in 2010. Somewhere along the line the Missions directors have gotten very sophisticated about fundraising. Inearly 2011 they held a Valentine Gala at Manhattans swankest venue: the Plaza Hotel. Cheapest tickets were $1,000.One wonders whether alcohol was served, and whether any men from the Bowery were there.

Mennonite involvement with the Bowery Mission has a long history, going back some six decades. While Mennoniteshave never had any ownership stake in the Mission, theyve shown steady support with money and in-kind contributionsFor example, much of the food served in the dining room comes from Lancaster County. Also, Mennonite groups fromPennsylvania still travel to the Bowery Mission almost every weekend to give programs.

Recently I became curious about how things have changed from bygone days. So on a chilly Saturday in February2011, I strolled down the Bowery to Prince Street, entered the Missions auditorium, and took a seat up front for the 6:30service.

The Mennonites that evening were introduced as the New Haven youth group. They sang for a spell and then theirminister took the pulpit. He preached from Romans, something about being accountable to God. Unfortunately, hismessage was riddled with clichs and I had difficulty staying focused. The brother sitting next to me was snoring. Thebrother in front of me was holding an audible conversation, with himself. Im not wrapped too tight either, frankly, and

was soon engaged in my own internal dialogue. Why cant you say something new, I queried silently, something Ihavent heard a billion times before? Nothing new came. Obviously the minister wasnt tuned to my frequency.

After the service, seating for dinner commenced. The dining space is limited and I could tell it would be a while before Igot my grub. So I sat back, relaxed, and stared at the ceiling. I stared at the verses on the walls. I stared at the pipes ofthe century-old organ. I checked out the crowd behind me. There were about 50 men (and several women), waiting andstaring. None inebriated. Just folks down on their luck. I wondered why the New Haven group didnt take advantage ofthis waiting period to mingle with us. Nothing heavy, just friendly chit-chat. But too late they were already on their busheading home to Lancaster. Why come all this way and not make time to interact one-on-one with the Bowery men?

A week later the service was given by a group from Nickel Mines, Pennsylvania. They opened with hymns andtestimonies, followed by a message from their deacon, a man named Weaver. Deacon Weaver wasted no time gettingto the nitty-gritty. According to him, the Bible says everyone is headed one of two places. I wished he would have citedchapter and verse for that claim, since Ive never found it stated in so many words. Sure, I know boilerplate revivalist

rhetoric when I hear it. But this is the 21st century. Why are Mennonites still recruiting with threats of hellfire? Actually,were references to eternal torture ever an appropriate way for pacifists to win souls? In any case, Weavers words didnot fall on fertile ground. No one responded to his altar call. Later, though, the dinner call got a unanimously positiveresponse. I wondered: Do the Mennonites realize that everyone in the audience is there for one reason?

The Missions website says they dispense hundreds of meals daily. A worthy endeavor, to be sure. Yet the meals arentexactly free. The homeless do pay, with their time and presence at services. The Mission, in turn, uses the presence ofthe homeless to justify its existence. Its a symbiotic relationship. And a reasonable trade, I suppose. After sitting throughmonotonous hour-long services, Id feel I earned some food too. Or something. Maybe a dividend check for a little pieceof that $10 million pie. (If it werent for the faithful attendance of the same several dozen men who fill the pews everyday, the Missions directors would have no fundraising hook with which to raise those millions.)

(... over, please )

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Why, I asked myself, is it assumed that people who live on the streets need the gospel treatment? Is being homelessautomatically the same as being lost? (From my personal experience, Ive never met a homeless atheist.)

Having few possessions used to be a hallmark of following Jesus. Being poor, even homeless, was once considered inchristian circles to be virtuous. Nowadays, apparently, were too sophisticated to take Jesus seriously when he urges usto not become attached to material things. (Matthew 6:19-30) But are we really so far removed from his perspective thatwe no longer acknowledge the spirituality of life on the margins?

The service the next Saturday was given by some Old Order Mennonites from Weaverland Conference. As they filed

up front, each one carrying a hymnal, I had the feeling we were in for a treat. Sure enough, what followed was a stirringhour of four-part a-capella singing. No sermon, no altar call. It was exhilarating as well as bewildering. Later I spokewith a member of the group and he schooled me on the origins of Weaverland Conference. One of the reasons theyleft Lancaster Conference was because of their opposition to innovations like mission boards and revival meetings.

Aggressive proselytizing, in their view, is worldly. It invokes an unacceptable sort of emotionalism. Hellfire preaching justisnt the Weaverland way. Impressive!

The following weeks group was also from Weaverland Conference: two busloads of young people singing under thedirection of Eddie Martin. Like their colleagues the previous Saturday, they rocked the house. This time, though, theprogram was interrupted midway for words by minister Richard Burkholder. He rambled on about traffic directions, greenlights and red lights, water turning into vapor, and life as vapor, then concluded with something from Revelation. Hewalked right up to the edge of an altar call without actually giving one.

Again, I took umbrage at the implication that something was amiss with the eternal status of us audience members. Why

do church folk think the unchurched are further from heaven than they? Didnt Jesus say sex workers and tax collectorsare ahead of preachers and deacons in the line to enter the kingdom? (Matthew 21:31) That would leave Bowery folk ina good position. Would it not?

Without a doubt, many people on the Bowery suffer from mental illness and need professional help. For those enslavedby drink, theres only one way to salvation: Alcoholics Anonymous. To the extent the Mission provides access to qualitymedical care, social services, A.A. meetings, etc., they are doing Gods work. But evangelistic services and altar calls, inmy view, are antiquated window dressing, put on primarily for the sake of funders.

After this I wanted to visit another soup kitchen to see how its done elsewhere. Four blocks north of the BoweryMission stands St. Joseph House, run by the Catholic Worker. Ive appreciated the Catholic Worker ever since readingDorothy Days book Loaves and Fishes and realizing her affinities with historic Mennonitism: simple lifestyle, pacifism,communalism, concern for social justice.

Catholic Worker facilities are known as hospitality houses. The word mission is not used. Dorothy thought itcondescending. They operate under the assumption that people from the streets have something to teach those of uswho live above the poverty line. This is why the homeless, in CW parlance, are Gods ambassadors.

I stumbled into St. Joes one Friday for early lunch. I was seated with six others and handed a bowl of vegetable soup,accompanied by dark bread and strong coffee. On one wall was a picture of Martin Luther King, Jr. On another wallwas a picture of Dorothy, with the quote: What we would like to do is change the world. Jazz was playing in thebackground. On dish-washing duty was a Quaker I recognized from the 15th Street meetinghouse. During the course ofmy meal I was asked several times whether I needed anything. At those particular moments I did not, yet I appreciatedthe manner in which I was asked. I could get used to this, I thought to myself.

It was in the Catholic Worker dining room that I experienced my own hour of decision. I decided, when time comes Imon the street in need of three hots and a cot, Ill know where to go. And where not to go.

* * * * *Charlie Kraybill (carlosnycity@gmail.com) lives and works in the Bronx. He is a member of the Marginal MennoniteSociety (check out our Facebook page) and the Pink Menno Campaign.

(Revised May 2012)