“Jesus said when you help the poor, you help God. It’s cool to know that you’re helping God.”

Last week at the Paulist Catholic Center in downtown Boston, one young adult referred to her work with those experiencing homelessness in this way. Most Christians are quite familiar with the biblical reference underlying her statement—Jesus’s famous line, “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these, you did it to me” (Matt. 25:40). Yet, spoken with ease from the mouth of my sincere peer, Catie, this common line was startling: She truly believed that her work at the shelter each day was helping God.

I can’t imagine having a job description like that. I can’t imagine waking up each day, setting out for the office, and thinking: “Alright, time to help God.” I can’t imagine it—and I work at a church.

It’s not that I don’t have some sense that I’m helping God through my work at the Paulist Center, where I have served as the pastoral minister for young adult ministry for the past two and a half years. Still, after Catie said this during a monthly installment of our year-long Social Justice Education Series, I found myself thinking that maybe she and other young adults at the Paulist Center who spend their careers and free-time accompanying the poor are, in fact, helping God in a profoundly special way—a way that I simply do not in my day-to-day work as a minister. Based on everything I’ve read about helping the poor in the Gospels, Catie really is helping God in the most important way possible.

Our Social Justice Education Series initially started as a forum where people like Catie can share with the church community about their social justice related work in the Boston area. Each month, we gather to engage a new social justice theme with the help of a different young adult presenter who starts the evening with a fifteen-minute reflection on five questions:

1) Why are you committed to this social justice issue?

2) How is this social justice issue relevant to the Boston area?

3) What organizations are doing this type of work in Boston?

4) What types of social and ethical controversy surround this issue?

5) How does this work relate to your Catholic faith?

We spend the next hour in small and large group conversation about the presentation and the social justice issue at hand. In October we treated economic injustice and the Occupy Movement, and in December we considered global health and the work of Boston-based Partners in Health. Like this past month’s gathering about homelessness in the Boston area, every event in the series has left me more educated about my faith and local social justice issues, accompanied by a deep sense of gratitude for the work of my peers who help God each and every day.

Please join us throughout the year as our series turns to topics ranging from immigration and education. Our next gathering will be Sunday, February 19 at the Paulist Center (5 Park Street, Boston) beginning at 7pm. The evening will focus on mental illness.

For more information about the Social Justice Education Series, contact Jessica Coblentz at jessica.coblentz@gmail.com.

Jessica Coblentz is the Pastoral Minister for Young Adult Ministry at the Paulist Catholic Center in downtown Boston. She is also a doctoral student in theology at Boston College.

I am a Housing Specialist with a confession to make: I don’t believe housing is what people experiencing homelessness really need.

It has taken me a long time to come to terms with that confession, and in all truth, I don’t even fully know what it means yet. I strongly believe that we can end homelessness in our society by creating more affordable housing, yet over the past few years I have started to wonder if there is more to the story.

In 2007 I packed my bags and flew across the country to spend 2 years volunteering as a Jesuit Volunteer in Portland, OR. I worked for a non-profit cafe that sought to create a place for building community; it was a place that practiced hospitality, non-violence, and gentle-personalism (a term coined by the Catholic Worker Movement that is profoundly about love and is about honoring the dignity that exists in each one of us). There was one day in particular that I remember vividly. I had started to close up the cafe for the day and walked over to one of the barter workers and said,

“You’re free to go home John. Cafe is closed.”

John smiled, handed me the bathroom key, and said:

“But I am home.”

As he walked past me I smiled to myself because I knew he was telling the truth. His apartment was where he slept. The cafe was where he was known and embraced, loved and respected, and in Boston terms, was a place where everybody knows your name.

Danny was another regular customer who had brown straggly hair, a permanent grin plastered on his face, and a tendency to speak like Wayne and Garth from the movie Wayne’s World. A heavy metal musician, Danny always told wild stories about smashing his guitar on stage and crowd surfing. One day at the cafe register Danny forgot to sign his receipt, so I called him back over. He jokingly smacked himself on the forehead and shaking his head said, “It’s a good thing you reminded me, otherwise no one might have known I existed today. Now there’s proof!” Danny smiled and walked away so nonchalantly you might have thought we just had a conversation about the weather. I, on the other hand, stood stunned that someone could feel completely invisible if not for tangible proof of their existence.

Stories like these touched the deepest part of me, and I was resolved to continue to work for a more just society as I made my move to Boston. I began working as the Housing Specialist at Father Bill’s & MainSpring and couldn’t have been more excited to be part of an organization that wasn’t interested in managing homelessness, but was taking a housing based approach towards ending it. Each and every person I worked with who moved into housing was cause for celebration; that is one less person sleeping in a shelter or on the streets tonight.

As I worked to connect people to housing, I could not help but notice the similarities among the stories I heard in Portland with those I was hearing in Boston. I heard people speak about their poverty of loneliness and isolation just as much, if not more, than their physical poverty. It made me wonder, can we address one type of poverty without addressing the other?

As I thought about this question, I thought about people like Grace who still sleeps out with her street family four times a week because she isn’t use to sleeping alone. And Jerry who abandoned his housing because his loneliness was consuming him. It’s difficult to understand why someone would choose to be homeless or sleep outside. Yet I think this choice becomes closer to us than we might think when it is re-framed as a choice between loneliness and community, and I don’t know many people who would choose the former over the latter. Dorothy Day, a leader of the Catholic Worker Movement, articulated this idea in her autobiography: “We have all known the long loneliness, and we have discovered that the only solution is love, and that love comes with community.”

A person’s outer poverty is easy to see if one is willing to look. What is much harder to see is a person’s inner poverty because that requires getting to know someone, but I think that is exactly where we need to start. We must continue listening closely to those who are living on the streets and in the shelters. It is in listening to the experts themselves, the people experiencing homelessness, that I’ve heard them talk about their need for more than just housing. What they are in need of, what we are all in need of, is a place to call home.

As I said in the beginning, I don’t fully know what it means to take a home approach, rather than a housing approach, to ending homelessness. I would imagine advocating for homes looks quite different than advocating for affordable housing. After all, creating affordable housing is a matter of policy, creating homes is a matter of the heart. And perhaps this is where we all come into play – no matter our belief system or color, our age or gender, our class or ethnicity, it will take all of us, uniting as human beings, to create a sense of belonging and homecoming to those who have lived on the margins of our society for far too long.

How can you and your community of religious or ethical commitment take action to end homelessness by advocating both for housing and for homes? Let us know your thoughts in the comments below!

Caitlin Kelley has worked at Father Bill’s & MainSpring for just over 2 years and has recently transitioned from her position as the Housing Specialist to the Triage Coordinator. Caitlin is an active member in her Catholic faith community as well as the MHSA Young Professionals Group. Caitlin hopes to eventually return to school to study Non-Profit Management and Social Policy, but in the meantime enjoys living in Jamaica Plain and is frequently spotted running around the Arboretum.

We will convene in Center Court of The Shops at Prudential Center at 4:30 p.m. sharp and “flip the switch” on the Prudential Tower lights at 5:00 p.m., with mingling and hors d’oeuvres to follow.

MHSA has been chosen by The Shops at Prudential Center as a Lighting Partner for this year’s “31 Nights of Light” program. 31 Nights of Light was created to help community organizations gain key visibility during the holiday season. On December 28, the Prudential Tower will be lit up in blue to raise awareness for MHSA’s mission to end homelessness.

For more information, contact Erin Donohue at edonohue@mhsa.net or (617)367-6447 ext. 25. We hope to see you there!

Click here to register!

Register today, Wednesday, December 7, to reserve your spot!

MHSA Annual Meeting
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
8:00 a.m. to 9:30 a.m.
Nine Zero Hotel
90 Tremont Street
Boston, MA 02108

Honoring

Representative Ronald Mariano, House Majority Leader
For his career-long commitment to supporting innovative solutions to homelessness.

Sheila Dillon, Housing Advisor to Mayor Menino at the City of Boston
For her work in preserving vital resources for homeless individuals in Boston.

Click here to register now!
The above link will take you to our secure online registration system. Should you wish to register over the phone or by mail, contact Caitlin Golden at cgolden@mhsa.net or (617) 367 – 6447 x 28.

This summer, a Christian student at my school told me that if he found out God didn’t exist, he would kill himself.

I was horrified, of course, but also simply confused. If this student stopped believing in God, would his world really look that bad? Would it suddenly look that different? Would it cease to be worth living in?

That world is my world. I live every day of my life assuming that God doesn’t exist, and I’m having a grand old time.

But I was even more confused when the same student went on to say that, if he didn’t kill himself, he would at the very least become a heartless monster; he would stop doing community service, stop caring about the wellbeing of others, and devote the rest of his life to selfish and radical hedonism.

As somebody who has lived through exactly the process he is hypothesizing about – the transition from a theistic worldview to an atheistic one – I can testify that my commitment to serving others only became stronger when I stopped believing in God.

I’ve always believed in the importance of community service. But, for most of my life, it didn’t seem particularly urgent. It will all be evened out eventually, I figured. It’s nice to do what you can, but no matter what we do in this life, God will sort it out in the next. Justice will be served regardless of my participation in it.

When I became an atheist, I suddenly lost recourse to this comforting thought. I became painfully aware of the very real possibility that justice might never be served. With that awareness came the unshakable conviction that I must do everything in my power to ensure that people do, as nearly as possible, get justice in this life. If I don’t do it, I can’t assume that it will get done.

Rabbi Hillel famously asked, “If I am not for myself, who will be for me?” I ask, if we are not for ourselves, who will be for us? And if I am not for my fellow humans, who will be for them?

Thus, the idea that atheism dissolves responsibility is baffling to me. On the contrary, the way I see it, responsibility is a constant; the question isn’t whether it exists, but who bears it. You can only abdicate responsibility if you have somebody to foist it off on – somebody like God. When God is removed from the picture, the weight of the world falls squarely and irrevocably on our own shoulders.

That’s why I, as an atheist, am committed to working as hard as I can for social justice.

I believe in the religion of reason – the gospel of this world; in the development of the mind, in the accumulation of intellectual wealth, to the end that man may free himself from superstitious fear, to the end that he may take advantage of the forces of nature to feed and clothe the world.

– Robert Ingersoll

Chelsea Link is a senior at Harvard University, studying History and Science with a focus in the history of medicine. She is the Vice President of Outreach of the Harvard Secular Society, and the President of the Harvard College Interfaith Council. She also writes for NonProphet Status and the Harvard Brain, and volunteers with the Be the Match bone marrow donor registry.

Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish new year, begins Wednesday night. This year’s holiday will be a little different for me. This year, instead of sitting quietly in a sanctuary, focusing on my past year and looking ahead to the new one, I’ll be singing and dancing with my husband and our two-year old in the toddler’s service with other families.

Last year we went to shul (synagogue), but with a baby in tow we didn’t get to really immerse ourselves in the liturgy and engage with the texts. I was surprised to find that I felt a spiritual void. I really missed the chance to sit and take stock of my year’s rights and wrongs and to be part of a community of people doing the same thing. I was surprised by this because for me, going to shul has often been more about being part of the community than about being religious. Growing up, I felt restless sitting in services and would flip through the siddur (prayer book) to find passages that resonated with me. Last year, I was not initially disappointed when I couldn’t join my family and friends in the sanctuary.

Now, as a parent to a very active toddler, I don’t often find myself sitting in services. I’m finding new ways to connect with Judaism that not only work for our family, but are also meaningful for us and show her how wonderful our community is. In particular, we translate Judaism’s focus on tikkun olam (repairing the world) through social action. Though we’re not perfect at it by any stretch of the imagination, we’re working to make social action part of the fabric of our family. Now, we’re giving tzedakah (righteous giving) each Shabbat. We teach her about sharing. We teach her about being kind to others. We talk and think about things we can get involved in as a family to teach her that social action comes in many forms and is a beautiful part of our heritage.

We have a long way to go to make the world a better place. Our little family is starting small. But this Rosh Hashanah, we’re putting social action high on our list of priorities. Social action is a special and beautiful part of Judaism during the High Holidays and all year long. We’re grateful to have found such a meaningful way to connect, to teach and to repair the world.

Rosa Kramer Franck is a Development Officer at Hebrew College. She is passionate about the Jewish community, for whom she has been fundraising for ten years. She holds an MBA in Mission Driven Management and an MA in Jewish Professional Leadership from Brandeis University.

To reflect further on this second aspect of our work, we can turn to “Acknowledging Our Theological Need for Each Other,” in which Anantanand Rambachan, a trustee of the Council for a Parliament of the World’s Religions, suggests that people of diverse religious traditions should view interfaith work not only in terms of its political or social action benefits, but also in terms of our theological need for each other. Rambachan writes:

Any religious tradition which is today concerned about the social order and its transformation is challenged to reach across historical frontiers, find common values with people of other faiths and strive together to overcome human suffering. Our hopes for just and peaceful communities will only be realized together or not at all.

Less clear, however, is our understanding of the theological need for each other. Our traditions generally understand themselves as theologically self-sufficient and independent and with little or no need for a religious ‘other.’ Our relationships with people of other traditions have not always been informed by theological humility and gratitude.

Here Rambachan points to a challenge that arises even in the course of interfaith work that is focused on social action rather than theology: how do our diverse religious—or, I would add, nonreligious—beliefs shape the way we view those from other traditions with whom we are working? Is the diversity of our traditions something that we overlook in order to get to the more “practical” work of ending homelessness, or do we somehow need that diversity?

Rambachan answers this question through the lens of his own religious identity as a Hindu. Rambachan explains:

In my own case, as a Hindu, my most profound theological need for my neighbor of another faith arises from my tradition’s teaching that Truth (brahman/sat) is always more than we could define, describe or comprehend with finite words and minds. As the Taittiriya Upanisad (2.9.1) reminds us, brahman is “that from which words turn back with the mind.” The constitutive nature of brahman eludes all direct definition. The consequence of such a radical sense of our human limits ought to be deep attentiveness and openness to considering and learning from multiple ways of speaking about the ultimate that occur in different traditions […].We must not associate wisdom only with our way of speaking, as precious as this must be to us. The possibility for mutual theological enrichment, learning, and sharing is a significant justification for entering into interreligious relationships.

For Rambachan, interreligious relationships are important not only for the practical social action work to which they can lead, but also because learning from those from other traditions enriches his own theological understanding. To read Rambachan’s full article, click here.

What do you think? When it comes to relationships across religious boundaries, do you focus on social action goals, theology or nonreligious forms of belief, or both? Does your own tradition need wisdom from other traditions? Why or why not? Submit your comments below!

-Caitlin Golden, SAM Coordinator

Organization Description: Social Action Massachusetts (SAM) is a program of the Massachusetts Housing and Shelter Alliance (MHSA) that partners with people of diverse religious and ethical commitments to end homelessness. Members and supporters of SAM are motivated by spiritual and social values to uphold the dignity of each person and to advocate for permanent solutions to homelessness.

Opportunities for Student Involvement: The student will focus on promoting advocacy and outreach efforts to increase the involvement of people of faith and ethical commitment across Massachusetts in advocacy to end homelessness. The position will encourage the student to reflect on the relationship between faith, ethics and social action and build relationships with and among religious leaders, lay leaders and others concerned with the issue of homelessness. Working closely with MHSA staff, the student will have the opportunity to develop a better understanding of policy issues related to homelessness and to educate communities of faith and conscience about these issues. The student will also play a key role in the development and implementation of initiatives to encourage concrete action on the part of these communities to contribute to solutions to homelessness.

Required is an ability to work with groups in an interfaith setting, a commitment to the issue of homelessness and good oral and written skills. Compensation is provided through the work study program (if eligible).

For more information, contact Caitlin Golden at cgolden@mhsa.net or 617-367-6447 ext. 28.

I hear it in almost every congregation I visit: “We’re not sure it’s our role to get involved in advocating on issues. You know, separation of church and state.”

To these anxious congregation members, I can easily explain the facts and related details (see note below), usually ending with an earnest appeal for them to get involved and advocate on issues like health care, childhood hunger and global warming. But often, it’s clear that they are not convinced. It’s not that they don’t believe me; it’s that the facts about the “separation of church and state” are not their actual source of concern.

The real concern is a fear of controversy. It’s understandable; many religious communities are struggling just to hold on to the membership (and accompanying assets) that they have. Controversy could lead to division and dissent, and might cause some people to leave. Best to stay quiet and make a nice, friendly, safe place for harried, over-stressed, stretched-too-thin members to connect with God and community… and leave the political struggles of the day to others.

But is that what our religious traditions actually teach—that we should create comfortable islands of retreat in the midst of a tumultuous world?

In the Jewish tradition, we find this teaching:

If a person of learning participates in public affairs and serves as judge or arbiter, he gives stability to the land… But if he sits in his home and says to himself, ‘What have the affairs of society to do with me?… Why should I trouble myself with the people’s voices of protest? Let my soul dwell in peace!’—if he does this, he overthrows the world.

-Midrash Tanhuma, Mishpatim 2

Our Western, post-Enlightenment selves tend to interpret a “person of learning” as being someone with a secular education, probably a judge or a lawyer. But what’s referred to here is Jewish learning, religious learning. So what this passage really says is: “If a person of religious learning sits at home and says to herself, ‘Why should I trouble myself with political issues? Let me just live in peace!’—if she does this, she overthrows the world.”

Now I’ll grant that Judaism, like Islam, is a way of life. Its teachings offer guidance on pretty much any question or situation imaginable, all of it grounded in Torah. Not all religions go into as much detail about the minutia of individual, family and community life as Judaism does. But all religions offer wisdom about these subjects—often, deep and ancient and finely tuned wisdom, transmitted and honed through centuries or even millennia. That’s part of what religion is all about, and why it’s so valuable, why it exists all over the world and for as far back as we can go in history—religion is a guide to living in good relationship with other people, with nature and with the Divine, by whatever name(s) we know It.

In the Civil Rights movement, it was the deep religious wisdom of the Christian tradition that guided Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. There is no way to imagine what that movement would have been like without his religiously grounded teaching and leadership. Similarly, our public discourse today is severely impoverished when those with religious learning remain silent.

Thankfully, many religious leaders are engaged and active, applying the ancient wisdom of their traditions to current public conversations around issues like state and national budget priorities, criminal justice, immigration, health care and environmental protections. I just have to wonder, though, how things would be different if more people of religious learning were willing to step forward and speak out, calling for compassion, love of neighbor, humility, hospitality and service—the core values taught by so many of our traditions.

Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s words ring as true today as they did forty years ago: “We shall have to repent in this generation,” he said, “not so much for the evil deeds of the wicked people, but for the appalling silence of the good people.” So please, people of religious learning, participate in public affairs and lend some stability to the land. I know it’s easier and safer to stay safely and quietly behind church or synagogue or mosque or monastery walls. But this world desperately needs the compassion and wisdom that shines in our religious traditions. Please share it.

*****

Note: The commonly-referred to “separation of church and state” is an idea that comes from the First Amendment to the Bill of Rights, which essentially restricts the state from establishing a religion. It does not, however, restrict religious people or groups from actively participating in our democracy. In order to maintain tax-exempt status, religious organizations may not use their influence to promote one candidate over another—but they can absolutely be involved in advocating on issues.

Yaira Robinson is pursuing a Master of Theological Studies at Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary. She is also the Coordinator of Texas Interfaith Power & Light, the environmental program of Texas Impact—and Jewish, married, and mother to two boys who make her laugh every day.

As a student at Harvard Divinity School, there are times when I am tempted to just keep my head down and power through these next two years – get the requirements done, and move on to the next stage of my life, and career, in ministry. Though the experiences I’m having in my reading, my classroom discussions with peers and professors and my volunteer and internship work are so richly rewarding, I sometimes feel like I barely have the time or mental space to enjoy them. Indeed, at times it seems like nothing but the many tasks of ministry loom ahead once I leave this place, overwhelming my ability to be fully present with the process of formation.

When I started my field education placement with Social Action Massachusetts (SAM), I was focused on this kind of preparation for the process of ordination as a Unitarian Universalist minister – on mastering the nuts and bolts of my work as a future religious leader engaged in social issues affecting the lives of people outside the church walls. I wanted to learn from my work at SAM what strategies were best for engaging all different kinds of faith-based, humanist and ethical communities in collaborative work for social justice. I wanted to learn about effective outreach, program building, membership development and collective organizing around the issue of homelessness. I am glad to say that I came away from my year with SAM with a better understanding of all these things – but even more, I came away with an appreciation for the interdependent efforts of advocates and religious leaders in a given community, and the shared human context that gives rise to collaborative social action work.

In all places where a seminarian might one day hope to minister, there exists a rich landscape of churches and other faith communities, nonprofit organizations, public servants, community activists and concerned, knowledgeable citizens. The “lone wolf” in ministry is a myth – there will always be a community of like-minded souls to reach out to. My field education placement at SAM taught me that leading social change work in ministry is not just about having the right strategies and the best speeches, it also includes the human element in a way no other career path in the advocacy world can – it is pastoral. It means talking with people and getting to know them, as well as revealing yourself and the passion behind your own story. It means building communication, trust and meaningful relationships with your colleagues and partners, as well as your opponents. My year with SAM reminded me of the beauty of ministry as a truly integrated calling – one that dovetails so nicely with social action work precisely because it asks us to see our fellow human beings as their whole selves.

Working with SAM, a seminarian can learn specifically about our fellow human beings who happen to be homeless, struggling to find safe, affordable, permanent housing, all across the state of Massachusetts. These homeless individuals have bodies, minds and spirits, and experience human needs – just as students, advocates, faith leaders, public servants and concerned citizens do. In my year with SAM, I had the opportunity to help us come together to connect some of those needs. I am so grateful to have had the time, with SAM, to learn about socially engaged ministry in the real world.

Lee Paczulla is an MDiv candidate at Harvard Divinity School, preparing for ordination as a Unitarian Universalist (UU) minister. She spent the last five years doing community-based youth development and health action work in Washington, DC, and has a BA in psychology and women’s studies from Swarthmore College. A former SAM intern, Lee is currently the Director of Religious Education at the First Parish Church in Dorchester, MA.