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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 several years haveseen an
escalation in new construction, transforming the area 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, looking onto a sea of expectant faces whilemy father (a
Mennonite minister) 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 groups down the
Bowery where wed see menpassed out on the sidewalk. By the 1980s,
though, such scenes became increasingly rare, for the bars were
alreadydisappearing by that time. Now that the Bowery is being
hipsterized, New York City no longer has a neighborhoodfriendly to
down-and-outers, the types who have always been the Missions main
constituency. There is no new skidrow now, and probably never will
be.
Yet the Bowery Mission has endured, even thrived. According to
tax forms posted on their website, the Missionsowners (Christian
Herald) took in revenue exceeding $10 million in FY 2010. President
and CEO Edward Morganwas compensated more than $186,000 in 2010.
Somewhere along the line, the Missions directors have gotten
quitesophisticated about fundraising. Every February they hold a
Valentine Gala for wealthy donors at Manhattans swankest
venue: the Plaza Hotel. Cheapest tickets are $1,000.
Mennonite involvement with the Mission has a long history, going
back to the 1950s. Mennonites never had anyownership stake in the
Mission, but they have shown steady support in cash donations as
well as in-kind contributions.Much of the food served in the dining
room, for example, comes from Lancaster County. Also, busloads of
PennsylvaniaMennonites still travel to the Bowery Mission almost
every weekend to give programs.
A couple years ago I became curious about how things at the
Mission have changed from the old days. So on a chillySaturday in
February 2011, I strolled down the Bowery to Prince Street, entered
the chapel auditorium, and took a seat upfront for the 6:30 p.m.
service.
The Mennonites giving the program that evening were introduced
as the New Haven youth group. They sang fora spell and then their
minister took the pulpit. He preached from Romans, something about
being accountable to God.
Unfortunately, his message was riddled with revivalist clichs,
and I had difficulty staying focused. The brother sittingnext to me
was snoring. The brother in front of me was holding an audible
conversation, with himself. Im not wrappedtoo tight either,
frankly, and was soon engaged in my own private dialogue. Why cant
you say something new, Ishouted in my mind, something I havent
heard a billion times before? Nothing new came. Obviously the
preacherwasnt 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 beforeI got
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 theirluxury bus heading home to Lancaster. I
wondered: Why come all this way and not make time to interact
one-on-one withthe 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 getting tothe nitty-gritty. According to him, the Bible
says everyone is headed one of two places. I wished hed have cited
chapterand verse for that claim, since Ive never found it in so
many words. Sure, I know boilerplate revivalist rhetoric when Ihear
it. But this is the 21st century. Why are Mennonites still
recruiting with threats of hellfire? Actually, were referencesto
eternal torture ever an appropriate way for pacifists to win souls?
In any case, Weavers words did not fall on fertileground. No one
responded to his altar call. But later, the call for dinner got a
unanimously positive response. I wondered:Do the Mennonites realize
that everyone in the audience is there for one reason?
(... over, please )
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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 their presence at services.
The Mission, in turn, uses the homelessto justify its existence.
Its a symbiotic relationship. And a reasonable trade, I suppose.
After sitting through hour-longservices aimed at pointing out my
fallen nature, Id feel I earned some food too. Or something. Maybe
a dividend checkfor a piece of that $10 million pie. (If not for
the faithful attendance of the same several dozen men who fill
their pewsevery day, the Missions fundraising staff would have no
hook with which to raise those millions.)
Why, I wondered, is it assumed that people who live on the
streets are in need of the gospel treatment? Is beinghomeless the
same as being lost? Having few possessions used to be a hallmark of
the virtuous Christian life. Nowadayswere too sophisticated to take
Jesus seriously when he advises against material attachments.
(Matthew 6:19-30) But arewe so far removed from his perspective
that we 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. They weredressed so plain
they almost looked Amish. As they filed up front, each one carrying
a hymnal, I had the feeling we werein for a treat. Sure enough,
what followed was a stirring hour of 4-part a-capella singing. No
sermon, no altar call. Itwas exhilarating as well as bewildering.
Later I spoke with a member of the group and he schooled me on the
origins ofWeaverland Conference. One of the reasons the Weaverland
folks left Lancaster Conference in the 1890s was becauseof their
opposition to innovations like mission boards and revival meetings.
Aggressive proselytizing, in their view, isworldly. It invokes a
sort of emotionalism that they find unacceptable. Hellfire
preaching just isnt the Weaverland way. Iwas impressed.
The following weeks group was also from Weaverland Conference:
two busloads of young people singing underthe direction of Eddie
Martin. Like their colleagues the previous Saturday, they rocked
the house. This time, though,the program was interrupted midway for
words by minister Richard Burkholder. He rambled on about traffic
directions,
green lights and red lights, water turning into vapor, and life
as vapor, then concluded with something from Revelation.He walked
right up to the edge of an altar call without actually giving one.
I took umbrage, again, at the notion somethingwas amiss with the
eternal status of us audience members. Why do church folk
automatically assume the unchurched arefurther from God than they?
Didnt Jesus say sex workers and tax collectors are ahead of
preachers and deacons in the lineto enter the kingdom? (Matthew
21:31) That would leave Bowery folk in a good position. Would it
not?
Without a doubt, many people on the Bowery need some sort of
help. For those enslaved by drink, for example, theresonly one way
to freedom: the rooms of Alcoholics Anonymous. To the extent the
Mission provides access to medicalcare, social services, A.A.
meetings, etc., theyre doing Gods work. But evangelistic services
and altar calls, in myopinion, are antiquated window dressing, put
on for funders who still view urban mission work in 19th-century
terms.
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 bookLoaves 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
wordmission is not used. Dorothy thought it condescending. They
operate under the assumption that people from the streetshave
something to teach those who live above the poverty line. This is
why the homeless, in CW parlance, are Godsambassadors.
I stumbled into St. Joes one Friday for early lunch. I was
seated with six others and handed a bowl of vegetablesoup,
accompanied by dark bread and strong coffee. On one wall was a
picture of Martin Luther King, Jr. On anotherwall was a picture of
Dorothy, with the quote: What we would like to do is change the
world. Jazz was playing in thebackground. On dishwashing 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 appreciated
themanner 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 Im on the street in need of three hots and a cot, Illknow
where to go. And where not to go.
* * * * *Charlie Kraybill ([email protected]) lives and
works in the Bronx. Hes a member of the Marginal Mennonite Society.
(Checkout the Marginal Mennonite Society Facebook page, and like
it.)
(Revised January 26, 2013)
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