Ubiquitous homelessness

The more we commit ourselves to open our minds and hearts to the homeless in our midst, the closer we become the eyes and ears of the Lord

Bishop Edward B. Scharfenberger

A scribe approached and said to him, “Teacher, I will follow you wherever you go.” Jesus answered him, “Foxes have dens and birds of the sky have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to rest his head” (Mt 8:19-20; cf Lk 9:57-58).

Speaking of following a faith leader ahead of his followers (see my column last week), this scribe certainly had his priorities straight. Jesus accepts the “teacher” title — though complementing it with “Son of Man” — affirming thereby the enthusiasm to make him guide and mentor, a spiritual harbor as it were. Yet he quickly disabuses the scribe of any notion he can just settle down on a couch, as one might do at home or a favorite church pew.

What is home? A place we have a key to, a refuge from the world, where when we knock or ring someone must let us in? Home is more than a shelter though. For one person it might just be a quiet place, on (or under) a bench. For another it could mean a single room, or one of those “Tiny Homes.” One’s sanctum might expect a private toilet and bath. Another might require an apartment or suite, a homestead with a garage. A manor anyone?

Not everyone in a house, however, is at home. I have known “homeless” teenagers. Not only those sleeping in the street or a tent under an overpass, but who return after school to the same place they slept the night before, not sure if the same inhabitants will be there, in which state of sobriety, or whether a meal might be ready. Educators know how the instability of a young person’s living space affects their learning, why some 16-year-olds perform more like 14-year-olds, and not just because they are “slow.”

Those working alongside homeless people — even professional and vets among them — know that the forms and roots of homelessness are diverse and complex. They know not all homeless persons may avail themselves of opportunities for any shelter and support offered. Some 80 percent suffer from depression, mental illness and addictions. A common neurological condition called ano­sognosia manifests as a deficit of self-awareness: they do not realize how ill they may be.

Large sums of federal and state funds have poured into programs — up 300 percent in each sector since 2013 — yet homelessness has surged 30 percent nationally in the last decade. A persistent finding is that shelter alone — so-called safe and affordable housing — does not stem recidivism. Absent community and personal support, substance intake monitoring, access to medical and mind care, homeless persons do not find their way to any kind of stability.

Homelessness is omni­­present in our communities, in urban, suburban and rural settings alike, often hidden in ways we might not think of. We are aware of unflattering caricatures of mental illness, phrases like “she’s not all there” or “he’s out of his mind” uncharitably branding persons suffering from various psychoses. Medication can help if administered for illness correctly diagnosed. What of those who are homeless even in their own bodies?

Does consensus really exist in medicine or societal norms on the wellness of persons with physical and emotional dysphoria? Some may seek chemical or hormonal intervention, even possibly irreversible surgery, despite unalterable chromosomal determinants. Should we just dismiss such profound human anguish as free individual choice, even if affirmed by certain medical professionals, and then cheered on by online chat groups which may revert to shaming the very persons they egged on, who may later regret their decisions?

Restlessness and conflict with one’s own physical condition may occur among persons suffering great bodily or emotional pain, whether through illnesses diagnosed as terminal or similar, even suicidal states wherein the person sees themself as a burden to family or loved ones. I recall a state governor speaking once of a “duty to die” in reference to sick and aging persons considered to be taxing limited social resources. Movements to promote “assisted suicide” — however euphemistically marketed by enabling legislation — can place a cruel emotional weight on persons and loved ones already experiencing great physical and psychological stress. The message is at its core the same: you are no longer welcome. We have no room for you at home.

Homelessness is all around us, not only with those whom we see in the stereotypically “homeless” conditions in public spaces, but in the loneliness and suffering of persons so hidden in the dark recesses, the margins of our lives, that none hear their cries. They are present within the boundaries of every parish within our Diocese. We will more than likely not see most of them “in” church, though many of them may be among the baptized. They could be as close as our neighbor next door, or our own basement. They might be elderly, living alone in an apartment across the hall or in what we call nursing facilities, abandoned by family members or friends who may not be nearby or able to communicate well. Shockingly, there are children and young people who are trafficked, or trapped in abusive situations from which they cannot escape. Everyday we read of another story.

The more we commit ourselves to open our minds and hearts to the homeless in our midst, the closer we become the eyes and ears of the Lord who “hears the cry of the poor” (cf. Ps 34:17). Keep in mind how Jesus was unwelcome even among his own, rejected by the world in which he was present among us as the Word, through whom all creation came to be. As those who claim to be his disciples, what better way to serve him than to go forth and bring the “Good News” of his love, being present to those who are not at home in the place where we find them, maybe not even in their own church, or family, or their own body?

As we may hope to put ourselves in the place of the homeless, or any other victim, may God help us avoid any temptation to romanticize or politicize their plight, and to listen to their experience, understanding the full context of their story. In the end, they are how Jesus comes to us. Are we there so much to change them, or are they here to convert us?