A (Boston) common place for worship

The Rev. Kathy McAdams of Ecclesia has developed ties with many area churches, and each week volunteers come to share in the service and serve lunch afterward at the fountain. At a recent service, families from a Korean Nazarene church in Reading, Mass., joined the circle along with their young children.

A mother of grown children, Murray spends many hours a week walking her "parish" to speak with street people. If it's very cold, she'll sometimes carry hats or socks to give out. But mostly she talks and prays with people and invites them to the service or other activities.

"The wonderful heart of the pastoral work, to me, is going with what presents itself," she says. "You are not in control, but I have a sense of God's spirit in it all."

Though she attends regular meetings with agencies that provide homeless services and is always ready to refer someone, "we are not case workers," she emphasizes. "We provide spiritual community."

Not long ago she learned how powerful simple, persistent caring can be. On one of her routes, she used to come upon a man named Frank on a particular street corner.

"I would always remember his name and ask how he was," she says. "I sometimes wondered why I did, since he was always drunk and nothing came of it." But she persisted for more than two years. Then he disappeared for six months.

One day, Frank showed up sober at common art. He said he'd had a spiritual awakening, was in a recovery program, and had come to give something back because Murray had been so nice to him. Frank comes each week to put away the tables and supplies after the art classes.

Those on the street sometimes build up trust, gain a little momentum, and then fall backward, Little says. A few men who have made it out of homelessness come to the services to be of help to the others.

Kevin happened upon common cathedral one Sunday, but has committed to coming regularly because he was on the street for 20 years and wants to pass on lessons learned. An attractive blond man who looks like a suburban dad, he says he was on cocaine and other drugs and came close to taking his life. Now he's in AA, and has a place to live and a job.

"Finally, I got on my knees and asked God to help me," he says. "I wish I had discovered common cathedral earlier in my experience, for the hope that someone was there for me." When you're on the street, you don't feel you can enter a church because people will stare at you as an outcast, he adds. "Coming out here is sending a message to people that God is there for you."

The pastors find that many street people are eager to talk about God. After conversation, Little often asks the person if they should pray together, and suggests the individual start the prayer. "Usually, the person starts, continues, and finishes the prayer – and often prays for me, too!" she laughs.

There is a lot of violence among street people, but there is also a great deal of kindness and looking out for one another. Some in the community are in permanent shelters, where they have more stability. Some have moved on to rehab or nursing homes, or to housing of their own. Yet the pastors are always coming upon new folks.

Little finds it a joy to work with the people who are starting ministries in other cities like Atlanta and Washington, D.C. "Their 'aha!' moments are so similar to what mine were," she says. "A man on the street keeps ignoring them over some time, and then one day, he looks up and smiles – and it's all worthwhile."

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