Homeless Religion

I’m often charged with not being religious enough to be a minister. As John Ferguson once told me, “You’d make a great minister if you ever got saved.” I suppose it is because I do not fit the stereotype of what people think how a minister is to act. I’m sure the pony-tail is also a distraction. I really don’t give it very much thought.

Last week, however, I was in my office when one of the Grace House residents burst into my office with a great deal of enthusiasm.

“Rev. Elliott,” he said loudly while shaking my had, “we haven’t met, but I think that you’re doing fantastic work! I’ve also read some of your books and figured that you could use this.”

He handed me a book titled Faith On Trial, shook my hand again and wished me well. “I figure that you’ve been so busy that you’ve forgotten things that you should remember.” And he left.

The book was written by an attorney who analyzed the evidence for the death and resurrection of Jesus. I guess that he had reached the same conclusion that John Ferguson had about me. Nevertheless, I try very hard to listen to what homeless people say to me and figured that I owed it to him to read the book because he had read some of mine.

So sitting on the beach the following Saturday, I read a great one-sided argument that Jesus lived, died, and was resurrected. The author evidently decided that there was no need for a prosecutor because the defense evidence was so compelling.

I was making my way through the J. C. Lewis Health Center when I game face to face with him.

“I read your book,” I said.

“You’ve already finished it?” he asked as though he were surprised.

“Sure, finished it over the weekend,” I replied.

“Did it change your life?” he asked in all seriousness.

“I appreciate you sharing it with me,” I said, dodging his question.

“Great!” he responded, obviously drawing his own conclusions. “I knew that you needed to be reminded of some things. You’ll be better because of it.”

He again shook my hand very enthusiastically and we parted ways.

Homeless religion is an interesting thing. Just as many people find their way to God when they’re in jail, people who are homeless are also more open to considering religion as a tool to help them when the chips are down. I often hear them extolling one another to keep the faith or pray for one another. They’re theological conversations are most often about whether or not they have committed the un-pardonable sin or when the world is coming to an end. Sometimes they ask for a few moments with me to discuss these things when they learn that I have the title Reverend. Like others, they draw their own conclusions about what I’m supposed to be like. On the other hand, it leaves me feeling compassion for them as they struggle to make the most of the situation they find themselves in, often having little more than religion to cling to.

"Compassion is the sometimes fatal capacity for feeling what it’s like to live inside somebody else’s skin," says Frederick Buechner.

"It is the knowledge that there can never really be any peace and joy for me until there is peace and joy finally for you too."

I suppose that this is one of the cornerstones of my religion.