Living with homelessness is hard enough.  Try getting out of homelessness without an ID.  Recent changes to the rules for acquiring a Social Security card have made it almost impossible for people who don’t already have a Florida ID to acquire one.  It’s a case of the right hand not knowing what the left hand is doing, and those of us who have homes to live in should insist that the rules be changed.

Imagine that you are homeless.  As often happens to people in your situation, your Social Security card has been stolen along with all your other possessions.  To get a job or to apply for housing or other benefits, you’ll need an ID issued by the Department of Highway Safety and Motor Vehicles.  How do you get one?

Well, first you’ll need to prove your identity.  For most folks, that means a certified copy of your birth certificate.  You’ll also need two proofs of Florida residence.  Let’s say you manage to acquire these documents (no easy task if you’re unemployed and living in a shelter).  You’ll also need acceptable proof of your Social Security number.  In theory, you could present a W-2 form, a pay stub, or a10-90 form, but you haven’t got any of those documents. It would be great if you could present a re-issued Social Security card, but you can’t get one of those without more documentation. So you need something from the SSA that proves you have a Social Security number.

Until recently, you could go to the Social Security Administration and, after answering several questions to verify your identity, you could be issued a “Social Security Number Printout.”  With that printout and the other required documents in hand, you could pay the appropriate fee and acquire a Florida ID card from the DMV.

Not any more.  Beginning in July, the Social Security Administration no longer issues Social Security Number Printouts.  To get that Social Security card, you now need to present a an ID or driver’s license.  Of course, you could also present a U.S. passport, US Military ID (not Veteran’s Administration), official government ID, Employee ID, Certificate of Citizenship, life insurance policy, school ID, Medicaid card (not Medicare), certified class transcripts from current year, or a certified copy of medical records – all of which the SSA would accept in lieu of an ID or driver’s license.

Did I mention that you’re homeless?  The average person coping with homelessness doesn’t have any of these alternate forms of ID.  And try getting your own medical records without a valid ID.  Hospitals will not release your records without one.

So you’re stuck in a classic Catch 22.  Federal law requires ID for the issuance of a Social Security card, and Florida law requires a Social Security card for the issuance of an ID.  The right hand doesn’t know what the left hand is doing, and it’s our homeless neighbors who suffer the consequences.

Several Tallahassee communities of faith, including the one I serve, are working with the Renaissance Community Center and ECHO to cover the fees for homeless neighbors who are trying to get ID’s.  We call the effort “Operation ID.” We’re frustrated by the rules changes, but our frustration is nothing compared to the frustration faced by homeless neighbors.

Common sense and human decency suggest that we should make it easier – not well nigh impossible – for someone coping with homelessness to climb out.  In this post 9/11 era, no one can make that first step without an ID.  Our Federal and State elected officials might not be able to balance the budget or agree on health care reform, but surely they can remove this nonsensical burden from the backs of  homeless neighbors.

Dream Defenders at the Florida State Capitol

I’m on sabbatical leave at the moment, so I’m trying to stay away from the church I serve in the heart of Florida’s capital city.  However, I have been sneaking downtown in the past two weeks to spend some time with the Dream Defenders who are “occupying” the Governor’s office.

The Dream Defenders are a fascinating and inspiring group of young people.  They have the zeal of the early Civil Rights marchers, the idealism of the Founding Fathers, and the technological expertise unique to their generation.  Their goal is to pressure the Governor to call a special session of the Florida Legislature to reconsider the disastrous “Stand Your Ground” law.”  They also want to spark a serious discussion of the zero-tolerance policies in Florida’s public schools which are channeling students – especially African-American males – into the criminal justice system.

As their occupation of the capitol has worn on, other issues have accrued to the Defenders’ agenda.  Issues such as immigration reform, educational disparities, and the need for a living wage.

Although the Defenders have called for “Justice for Trayvon,” their dream is more expansive than getting rid of an ill-advised law.  They dream of an America where young people of any race can walk home unmolested by armed men who judge them to be “thugs” without even knowing their names.  An American where students are not handcuffed and hauled off school property for violations that used to earn detention or a lecture from the principal.   An America where opportunity is not limited to few, the powerful, and the wealthy.

As I have listened to their testimonies, I have been struck by how closely their dream resembles the biblical vision of the Kingdom of God.  Certainly, when I see the faces of this multi-racial community, I can’t help but recall the prophet’s promise of the day when “your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old shall dream dreams and your young shall see visions” (Joel 2:28).

The Book of Order of the Presbyterian Church (USA) lists as one of the great “ends” or goals of the church “the exhibition of the Kingdom of God to the world.”

Sometimes God doesn’t wait for the church to do its job.  Let those who have eyes see.

Not All Dreamers Are Young

The Tallahassee-Leon Shelter and First Presbyterian Church have a shared history.  The roots of the Shelter go back to the winter of 1986 (as I recall) when we operated a shelter in our Education Building.  That was a tough winter, and it exposed the need for a more comprehensive approach to sheltering people coping with homelessness and alleviating homelessness in our community. After that first winter, a Board of Directors was formed and a 501c3 not-for-profit agency was established.  After operating cold-night shelters in vacant buildings for a few winters, the Shelter found a home in what had been a rock-a-billy bar on Tennessee Street.

The Shelter is now a full-fledged agency with close to a million-dollar budget.  It has been many years since I was on the Board of Directors of the Shelter.  I have no role in its governance, but I do have a heart for its mission.

I do not want to second-guess the Shelter’s Board.  I have good friends on that Board whom I respect.  I have every confidence that they are doing their best to address the issues raised in recent weeks.  All I want to do in this column is make some observations about how the scene has changed since the Shelter’s early days.

• Mel Eby, the Shelter’s Executive Director, has become the face, voice, and public persona of the Shelter.  As the Shelter’s website puts it, Mel is “Our Legendary Director.”  I can think of no other agency in town that is so closely identified with its Executive Director.  As with every charismatic leader, passions run high when Mel’s name comes up.  I know people (some homeless, some not) who speak of Mel in reverential tones. I know others who regard him as a less-than-benevolent dictator.  (I know pastors who evoke similar passions.)

• The population of people dealing with homelessness has grown.  We thought we had a problem back in 1986.  In the last point-in-time survey, the tally reached almost 1,000.  The actual number is probably four times that total.

• The demand for the Shelter’s services far exceeds its capacity.  About 200 people sleep in, or near, the Shelter every night.  That’s roughly double the number of beds inside the building.  People who aren’t assigned bunk beds sleep on mats on the floor; others sleep outside.  The Shelter has been operating in “overload mode” for years.

• Programs to address homelessness have expanded.  In addition to the Hope Community operated by the Coalition for the Homeless, there are programs for veterans and programs targeted for the “chronically homeless.”  These are the people who comprise about 16% of the homeless population, but use the lion’s share of services.  Several church-based ministries also provide housing.  In other words, the Shelter is one of several agencies battling homelessness.  By no means are these services meeting all the needs of homeless neighbors.

• A splendid model of inter-agency cooperation has emerged.  The Renaissance Community Center, funded entirely by  private dollars, has proven that agencies can work together to help people coping with homelessness.

• NIMBYism is here to stay.  Back in the late 80’s it was relatively easy to set up a shelter on West Tennessee Street.  The City and County were helpful, and there was little neighborhood opposition.  That dynamic has changed.  These days it is much more difficult to find a home for people who have no home.

A crisis, painful as it can be, can also be an opportunity.  Now is the time for our community to re-think our approach.  We can’t continue to cram people into an inadequate building.  And we can’t we rely on a single person to be the face and conscience of the community.  As grateful as I am to Mel and to the Shelter Board, we have to move forward.  The focus must be on what’s best for neighbors who are homeless.

I find myself waxing nostalgic for the days when I had never heard the term “sequestration.”  Now that this manufactured “crisis” has come upon us, it should be noted that cuts under sequestration will fall disproportionately upon the poor.

As managers scramble to cut their budgets, programs that provide housing vouchers for poor and disabled neighbors – many of them elderly – will suffer.  So will WIC, the program that helps low-income moms get milk and healthy food for babies, infants, toddlers and young children.

The New York Times reports: “In Washington and across the country, families and individuals generally need to have very low incomes to be eligible for federal assistance. Public housing residents in Washington have an average annual income of just $12,911. More than 40 percent are either children or the elderly, and more than a quarter live with a disability. In the (housing) voucher program, the annual income is even lower, just over $10,000 a year, and similarly large proportions of residents are elderly, disabled or young” (“Where the Cuts Will Fall,” March 4, 2013).

People can disagree about whom to blame for this meat-cleaver approach to fiscal policy.  Is it the Democrats for holding out for a “balanced approach” to reducing the federal deficit or is it the Republicans for refusing to consider any increase in revenue?  I’m tempted to say “A plague on both your houses.”  I have my own opinion about who bears the greater responsibility, but my opinion won’t keep disabled, elderly neighbors from losing their homes or put nutritious food in the stomachs of poor children.

I believe government should play a role in caring for the most vulnerable among us.  I also believe that this nation has the resources to care for what the Bible calls “the least of these.”  The question isn’t capacity; it’s priority.

The 25^th chapter of Matthew makes it clear who is served by programs that assist the very poor and who it is who will suffer most from sequestration. It’s the Lord who says, “Truly I tell you, just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me” (Matt. 25:45).

Last Sunday I broke the rules (sort of).  I included the non-baptized in the invitation to the Lord’s Table.

There is a lively debate going on amongst theologians about whether the Lord’s Supper (Communion/Eucharist) should be open to those who are not baptized.  The Presbyterian Church (USA)  Book of Order states that “all the baptized faithful are to be welcomed to the Table,” but in effect “fences” the Table from the unbaptized.  To limit the invitation to the Table to the baptized is in keeping with the practice of the early Church and two millennia of tradition.

However, Jesus himself practiced “open commensality,” as one theologian puts it.  He dined with sinners and outcasts, including the folks orthodox religionists of his day rejected.  The Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper, which is rooted in the meals of Jesus as well as the Passover Seder, anticipates the eschatological Supper of the Lamb, to which people “from north and south, from east and west” will come.  The Supper is more than a ritual meal for the community of the faithful; it’s a symbol of God’s inclusive love for the whole world.  That being the case, “fencing” the Table seems inconsistent with the gospel.

I would never want to sever the link between Baptism and Communion.  Baptism is the sign of entrance and welcome into the covenant community.  Communion is the “family meal” of the household of God, but it is more than that.  To eat and drink at the Table is to offer oneself as “living sacrifice” in service to the Triune God.

Although it is hospitable to open the Table to all present, I would not want the Eucharist to be reduced to a ritual of mere hospitality.  There is a mystery at the heart of the Supper.  It is, spiritually, a sharing of the body and blood of Christ.  Who should be invited to share that mystery?  Only the baptized?  Or should the Supper be open to those seeking the “the way, the truth, and life?”

Central to Reformed theology is the notion of “prevenient grace.”  Divine grace always “goes ahead” of human response.  If Presbyterians didn’t believe this, we’d have no business baptizing infants.  The same grace enacted in Baptism is the grace enacted in the Supper.  When we baptize – and when we come to the Table – we are responding to the Spirit’s gracious prompting.

Last Sunday was the Feast of Epiphany.  Epiphany it is the celebration of God’s manifestation to the Gentiles – outsiders.  The Magi remind us that we do not control the workings of God’s grace revealed in Jesus Christ.  Standing at the Table last Sunday, I could not NOT welcome everyone who is hungry to come to the feast.  By broadening the invitation to the Table I broke (or at least bent) the rules.  That goes against my nature as a Presbyterian.  Sometimes, however, grace trumps decency and order.

If the Session of my church concurs, I’d like to change the wording in the bulletin regarding who is welcomed to the Table to something along these lines:  The Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper is open to Christians of all denominations and to all those who are hungry for the Bread of Life.  Our Savior invites all who love and wish to serve him to share this holy meal.

On the second Sunday of Advent John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness crying, “Prepare the way of the Lord.”  His diet is all natural and his message unnatural:  “Repent.”

On the third Sunday of Advent, while the news from Newtown was fresh,  he was still around, just like Old Dan Tucker.  A voice still crying in the wilderness.

This week it has been funeral after funeral, memorial service after memorial service, in Newtown, Connecticut and surrounding communities.  I opened the morning paper on Friday to see ads for last-minute sales of a toy version of the MP5 assault rifle.

There is still time to buy your child a scaled-down model of the gun that killed 20 school children.  On the other hand, there is still time to repent.

I’d hoped that the National Rifle Association, silent for a week, would come out with a reasonable proposal to end the sale of weapons that no earthly use except to kill as many people as possible as quickly as possible.

Never place your hopes in the N.R.A.

On the Fourth Sunday of Advent Mary sings her “Magnificat.”  My congregation will hear this prayer, written by John Bell with verses added by this pastor:

Though hope desert our hearts,
though strangeness fill our souls,
though truth torment our troubled minds,
you have been here before.

Though confidence run dry,
though weary flesh be sore,
though conversation bear no fruit,
you have been here before.

Though havoc haunt our dreams,
though grief impose its dread
though parents weep and nations mourn,
you have been here before.

In Christ who, on the cross,
felt all our hurt and more,
and cried in deep abandonment,
you have been here before.

There is no threatening place,
no trial we could know
which has not known your presence first:
you have been here before.

Through Mary’s song of  joy,
through advent born of pain,
help us to welcome you anew,
O come, Lord, as before.