What's going on?

Today was an overflow day at the Soup Kitchen/Food Pantry in the Stapleton section of Staten Island. For close to thirty years I have been a volunteer at the Soup Kitchen located at Trinity Lutheran Church on St Paul's Avenue. Back then if we had 40 folks for lunch we were really hustling. Today we had 117.


One of the reasons is that back in the day the Food Pantry operated on Friday evenings, and we served on Saturdays.  Now we work in tandem, and our numbers for both ministries have skyrocketed.


And the work is more difficult.  We have more clients who are in need of better physical and mental health services.  We see more folks who have lost jobs or are returning from incarceration. More mothers and children show up to have a meal after they pick up food from the pantry.  More Mexican and Central American day laborers come in. Many of these guys are homeless and ineligible for referrals to shelters because they are either drug or alcohol abusers or both. They arrive late for lunch so pie-eyed I am amazed they can climb the stairs.  They drink several cups of coffee, chow down on dessert, scrape the lunch into a plastic container and grab an extra orange/apple or two from the box  as they leave. They then  hightail it into the Food Pantry to see if they can convince the clean up crew to give them some bread or peanut butter or both.  They will be back next week; they do not remember what they did the week before, and the dance will begin again.


Then there is "Jacks".  A senior citizen,well known to those of us in the social service business on Staten Island.  He comes every week at around 10am.  If it is not his week to get a Food Pantry pick up, he solicits "donations"....so you don't want those Corn Flakes??? Jacks will take them off your hands, as well as those cans of sardines you are not sure what to do with. Jacks knows and is happy to take your excess.  Next on his agenda is checking out lunch. 


Every week for the past five years, Jacks has been first online to get to the lunchroom. He has explained to me several times that he is a "big guy", and as such, needs us to provide him with an over-large portion. If the portion is not up to Jacks' standards, he may resort to "table surfing".  That is a ritual in which Jacks, once he has finished his meal, stands against the wall and looks intently around the room.  He might spot a family group in which one or two young children did not finish their meal.  He will swoop down, scrap the leftovers onto his reserved plate, sit down and join the folks for another go round.  Today, he did this three times. We try to be overly generous when we serve lunch, but Jacks just thinks we are being too controlling. 

Today I expressed my concern that his habit of finishing off someone else's lunch might be a health risk  He told me that he has been dong this for years, and has never gotten sick.  Oh, by the way, he says, we have the best meals of all the places he goes to eat.  Is this a complement?


I also have two or three regular late comers.  I call one "The Charmer".  He arrives fifteen minutes before we close and packs his lunch "to go" in his own Chinese "take out" container. Bur, he does try to get something .  I do not bite.


     "M'am" he says, " If you close at one and have leftovers, can you give me seconds?"
      "No", is my reply. "We close at one; I feed my staff, and the rest goes to the outreach center;    you can go there if you are still hungry.  It is four blocks down, three blocks over."
     "Well", he says, " I can take some of that burden off of you."
     "Hum", I say, " We can shoulder that burden."


I call the other one "The Philosopher". He is a gentleman of a certain age, an artist, who has fallen on hard times.  He knows and acknowledges many of the volunteers by name and engages several in bright and interesting conversations.  He loves art and is often seen at local events.  He is not a constant client, but comes when funding for his newest project dries up.


 My favorite "late comer" is the "Haitian Cowboy" an eccentric Creole gentleman who, despite a physical disability, shows a real compassion for others and never complains about his state.  I do so love his broad brimmed fedora which he wears with aplomb and a style like no other. And although Walter, our plant supervisor, does not share my admiration for this client, he is always willing to make a place for him at table.


Now, some of you may think I am a really mean person.  Think what you want.  I have to abide by the rules set up by the Soup Kitchen and the NYC  Dept. of Health. I never know how many people the Lord is sending me to feed today.  I never know if I will run out of food. I never know who needs our listening ear today.   And I never know who is going to be walking with me on this journey .

Medical Care in America

Once I reached the magic age of 65, I became eligible for what my Ob/Gyn called the "Cadillac" of medical insurance: Medicare. Since I also retired with medical coverage for which I pay a small fee, and have prescriptions drugs though my Medicare D rider from the UFT and have dental, vision and hearing coverage, I am in pretty good shape when it comes to health care. And I am grateful for that. But it is the small things that can make you nuts.






About two years ago I was diagnosed with sleep apnea...no surprise there, three of my four siblings have had the same diagnosis.  I was told I could have surgery since the main culprit in my case is a deviated septum.  I opted for the CPAP machine since several friends and relatives had related good experiences with it, and the thought of surgery, even though not extremely invasive, is not something I really want to do. So, I ordered the machine.




For the uninformed, the continuous positive airway pressure CPAP therapy is a common treatment for obstructive sleep apnea. It includes a small machine that supplies a constant and steady air pressure. In my case, it has taken me a very long time to get used to this contraption.  I usually take it off during the time I am sleeping, and the noise will finally wake me up. I then have to put it on again and restart the process.  This happens at least two times a night. Needless to day, I am not a happy sleep camper.


Medicare Part B covers this machine, so imagine my surprise when I received a bill for $1,500 for the machine from the place I got it from via prescription from the ENT guy who diagnosed me two years ago. I also received requests from my secondary insurer regarding charges they denied to pay the rental fee for said machine. In an attempt to fnd out what the heck was going on, I spent the majority of my day on the phone with various and sundry insurers from Don at Medicare (nice enough guy) to Patty and Tammy at the "machine shop".  My favorite call was the first one I made to Beacon, NY at the billing service.  I was told I should go to the post office and mail the machine back to them.


I said, "If you want the machine back, why did you send me a bill for it?"


Their reply,"I don't know.  Just send it back."


My retort, "There is nothing in this letter that tells me to return it.  What if I paid you for it?"


The very intelligent reply,"We still need to have it back."


Then they won't get my money, you think? You can't make this stuff up.  And, remember, I was talking to folks in New York State and New Jersey.


Well, after eight phone calls, and an average of five transfers per call I must do the following:
          1. Contact my healthcare provider ( that's the doctor for those of you who are not sure)
          2. Go to a designated website and download, fill out, save and print up the documents
          3. Get a new prescription from said health care provider/doctor
          4. Fax everything to the new supplier and wait for confirmation
          5. Make an appointment for delivery and sign off on it.


Boy, it is a good thing I am retired and don't have anything to do but take care of my medical situation!  I wonder how others have dealt with this crazy system we have.  Single payer is looking mighty good!

Altar faux pas

Over the almost twenty years since my ordination to the diaconate in the Episcopal Church, I have witnessed or been privy to many main altar mishaps and missteps that were seamlessly camouflaged by the altar party who never again spoke of the high altar hijinks that resulted in the worshiping congregants being unaware of near liturgical disasters. I have come to really respect those clerics and vergers who have been able to easily fix what one might think is an obvious error with quiet aplomb and tact.

Here is a listing of some of the boo-boos I have either witnessed or was an active participant in over my years of altar service:

1. Who let the dog out??

At an extremely liberal and progressive parish in which I served , the rector and I were distributing communion during the service.  One of our parishioners, a professional singer, habitually brought her very diminutive dog to church.  The rector usually blessed the dog as we distributed communion: first the bread, then the wine.  The rector presented the bread; we used whole wheat pita; and before I could offer the cup, the singer gave half of the bread to the dog who quickly chomped it and swallowed it down lickety split. Fido was not given the opportunity to slurp the wine...I skipped over them both.

2. Judge the juice:

At that same urban parish we routinely offered non-alcoholic wine or grape juice for our parishioners in recovery or just for those folks who did not drink wine or preferred juice.  We usually put this into a glass chalice so folks knew which one contained a liquid sans spirits. One Sunday I noticed the glass chalice contained an amber colored liquid which I assumed was white grape juice, since I overheard the sacristan saying the purple juice was gone, and he had run out to the local Gristede's to find another bottle.  Imagine my surprise when I was "cleaning up" the altar and began to consume what I thought was white grape juice, only to discover I was gulping down Mott's Apple Juice! 

3. The drowning bee and the swimming horse fly:

a. The first parish I served at was surrounded on three sides by open park land and a cemetery. Sometimes, in the spring and fall, the ushers would open windows and side doors to catch a great cross ventilating breeze.  On two occasions that caused major problems at the altar.  On one occasion, a rather large bumble bee crawled around the altar and rested on the rim of a wine filled chalice. When the altar server rang the bells, it frightened said bee who unceremoniously fell into the filled chalice and after a few horrific moments of insect struggling, drowned in the sherry. As the rector lowered the chalice after the final elevation before distribution of communion, we flicked said dead bee into the sacristy, and distributed communion as usual.

b. Same issue a few weeks later , but his time with a rather large horse fly who dive bombed into the chalice and began doing the beast stroke across its diameter. He continued to do so during the elevation and owing to a slightly deliberate slosh on the celebrant's part, was flicked out the side and took off into the sacred space of the church to bother some sleepy congregant.

4. Bees, again, on the church wall:  

A swarm of bees appeared on the back wall of the Mid-island Church in which I served.  No problem: call the bee keeper and cancel services. This was done, and the bee removal went pretty smoothly.

5. Ants in the ciborium:

Peonies are lovely. Their colors run the spectrum from creamy beige to brilliantly vivid pints, but they come with their own problems: ants. The Sunday flower arrangements of locally harvested peonies were beautiful, but filled with local ants...and not the kind we are related to.  We picked off as many as we could, and passed out the hosts...no one was any wiser.

6. Candle problems: These are legend.

a. My daughter's hair caught on fire in the 1990's fuelled by hair spray and hot wax.  No harm done, a lay reader swatted her head with his prayer book.

b. Exploding candles happen due to leaning candles and drafty churches. I have seen this happen on many occasions, and you can never really tell if and when it happens. Yet when it does, you are almost powerless to stop it.

c. Too close to the flower arrangements results in drying out of flowers and leaves which is easy to deal with. Just pick them off.    On other occasions this resulted in flaming flowers...never a pretty sight. I know of one church where an attempt to light the overhead

Advent Wreath resulted in the whole thing going up in flames....but the fire extinguisher was nearby...no harm done.






So, a sincere and grateful Thank You to those in the altar party: celebrant, acolyte, verger, deacon, reader, who have stepped up to the plate and helped the rest of us avoid Altar Altercations that could have ended in more than embarrassment.

Finding the Sacred whilst Traveling

Just about a week has gone by since I returned from my latest adventure abroad.  A well-planned trip to Northern Europe visiting several Baltic cites and Germany including stops in Copenhagen, Malmo, Stockholm, Tallin, St. Petersburg, Helsinki, Porvoo, Magenburg, and Berlin; places steeped in various kinds of Christianity and Judaism where state domination of society often suppressed the religiosity of its citizenry. But even while travelling, encounters with the Divine happen in the most unexpected places.

My home parish of Christ Church is currently engaged in a year-long read of the Bible: First and Second Testaments.  We are currently in the middle of the Psalms, and I used a good chunk of time on my flight from Newark to London catching up and surpassing my place, so when I got home, I would be caught up to date.  The gentleman in the next set of seats over asked what the huge book I was reading was, and I showed him.  He told me he was Jewish and was impressed that a Christian group was reading his scriptures with such intent, and we discussed the  translations of Pslams from the Hebrew, the language he studied them in, into the English that I was reading.  He was also interested in the order in which we were reading the books of the Torah.  He said that he found comfort in the Psalms of David because the issues they address: anger, joy, suffering, elation, despair, contentment, hopelessness and honor; things that still plague us today...a valid and honest point.

Interior Sankt Petri Kyrka

On my second day in Denmark, we decided to take the train over the new Øresund Bridge to visit the of Malmo, the third largest city in Sweden.  There I visited the main Lutheran Cathedral, Sankt Petri Kyrka . While I was visiting there, I got to witness a wedding performed by an Armenian Orthodox priest and deacon dressed in vestments that made the bride's elegant body clinging white gown look like last weeks left over wet white bread. And of course, their  Eastern influenced chanting gave the whole ceremony an other-worldliness that was breathtaking. An added extra was that the church served coffee and cookies all day...a perpetual coffee hour! Something my son, Rob, would have really enjoyed!

Samon, Guri, Aviv

While visiting Tallin I encountered  lovely trio of Russian clerics on a 18th century Russian icon that came home with me. This was really special because when the Soviet Union was in the game, none of the older icons could leave the premises. Sts. Samon, Guri and Aviv, the stars of this piece of art,  are supposed to support marital bliss. Aviv is the deacon.  The example here is a bit nicer than mine, and I could not afford to buy this one. Mine has a painted blue background, not this fancy gold leaf.

Stockholm Cathedral

This trio will make a nice addition to my icon collection that has its primary focus on deacons ...originally an academic project which later became a rather obsessive hobby of mine.  Now if I could only find a deacon in an icon with a swan....my other collection obsession.

St George and the Dragon

In Stockholm we visited the Lutheran Cathedral.  Of course, it was not always a Lutheran Cathedral; it only changed over from Roman Catholicism after the Protestant Reformation.  It is a monument to the state as well as to religion as it has two ornately gold-leaf decorated "seats"...more like thrones...upon which the ruling monarchs of the realm can plant their royal posteriors. The rest of us commoners can sit in the faux marble painted wooden pews which speak to Scandinavian sensibility and practically. There is also a great statue of St George slaying the Dragon which would scare the beejesus out of any young child.





Grand Choral Synagogue

The highlight of my tour in St Petersburg was not the opulence of Catherine's Place, nor the manicured and pristine gardens and fountains at Peterhof, but the simple yet elegantly refurbished Grand Choral Synagogue. Its simple majestic beauty and serene ambiance as a place of prayer and remembrance stands in tribute to the many folks who have over the years passed through its massive doors as worshipers and visitors.

 

Monument to the Murdered Jews of Europe

And continuing on that theme, in Berlin we visited the Monument to the Murdered Jews of Europe located across the street form the American Embassy two blocks from the Brandenburg Gate in what would have been just inside the eastern Berlin Wall.  This monument is a sobering reminder of the horror and destruction humans have inflicted upon each other over ideology. I just wish more visitors read the admonishment that this is a solemn spot and not a place for school children to play "Hide and Seek".      

But my favorite souvenir from my trip was given to me by a travelling companion from Germany.  Thanks, again! Who knew Martin Luther could actually be fun?  Playmobile, of course!