The Birth of a Neighborhood

by Carl Mazza

The human race in the course of time has taken the liberty of softening and softening Christianity until at last we have contrived to make it exactly the opposite of what it is in the New Testament...
- Soren Kierkegaard

It's ironic that, on this most sacred day of the Christian year, the problem of housing is front and center. Where was Jesus to be born? The phrase "no room in the inn" is as synonymous with the nativity as the chorus of angels. This setting has been so romanticized that we rarely consider the facts of rejection and humiliation which were so much a part of Jesus' extraordinary birth.

No one would wish their children to be born in such a setting, under such conditions. Yet we know it is all too true that babies may be born today in worse circumstances than this. Even at his inception, Jesus identifies with all who may enter into the chaos of homelessness at birth.

The merit of the story is the love and fidelity of Jesus' parents. In that sense he was born into an exceptional home, and the crude surroundings were of small significance compared to this. In today's vernacular, Mary and Joseph had strong family values. All that we know of them speaks of uncompromising integrity, trust and deferential love. Their virtue as parents is never in question, nor the beautiful place they made for Jesus in this world.

What is questionable, of course, is the virtue of a society in which the spirit of neighborhood and community is wanting. True, there was no room at the inn, but neither in the synagogue or in any home - no provision for the many displaced families on the road because of the government's order for a census. Perhaps I am reading too much into it, but I think about it, and wonder why was there no room at all.

The qualities of kindness, mercy, and well-being of the community as much as for oneself, is at the heart of the Gospel's freshness. Into the ancient world's jaded coarseness and cruelty, Jesus brought an amazing message of an unconditional love for all people, overriding and universal in its scope. In the new neighborhood of Jesus, a stranger, even destitute and homeless, was to be welcome as family and friend. This was a revolution.

Twenty centuries later, there is a mind-set in the world which reflects this bright new world, which has yet to be born. In the United Nations Universal Declaration of Human Rights, Article 25, this value is stated unequivocally: Everyone has the right to a standard of living adequate for the health and well-being … including food, clothing, housing and medical care and necessary social services...

As we also know from the teachings of Jesus, a "birth" is something that can happen at any time in life. When he spoke of being "born again" we understand this. If the nativity teaches anything, it is the importance of providing home, and extending it to both body and soul: To be homeless also means the loss of opportunity, confidence, and the means of self-reliance - but these things can and should be restored by any means within our power to imagine.

In his presentation at our Autumn Gathering in October, Michael Stoops, Executive Director of the National Coalition for the Homeless, spoke passionately about the need for affordable housing and a living wage as absolutely essential to put an end to homelessness in our society. We completely and wholeheartedly agree.

At Meeting Ground, we would also go a step further. Extending "home" to all persons also means human nurture, care of both body and soul - a loving interest in all persons as neighbors to ourselves.

A few weeks ago, as the days of summer were winding down, a seven-year-old boy who, along with his mother and sisters, was staying with us, strolled boldly into the office at Clairvaux Farm. Sean saw that I was working at the computer and stood behind me to watch. I was hot and edgy, trying to get into some very serious work, but I was also favored that he was willing to give me a small part of his active summer day.

We began to talk about things going on at the Farm. I saw that he had a lot of blue paint on his clothes, his face, and even in his hair. Our conversation was very easy and interesting to both of us, and there was something very different about him: he was more confident and outgoing, not quiet and alone as we had known him. In a short time he said "it was time to get back to work," and he headed out the door. I followed to watch, and saw the reason for the change.

A group of volunteers from a church had come to paint on that hot summer day, but they saw their mission as something far more lofty. That morning, seeing Sean at a distance, they called him over and handed him a brush. In smiles and conversation, they made him a member of their team, their community of faith that day. In the course of this simple gesture, they quietly opened the window to a new horizon, extending the boundaries of a boy's imagination to a grander world.

He and his family are experiencing homelessness. It's a rough time for them, but he doesn't seem to know it. He has found our neighborhood to be a friendly place, one that brings happiness to him and his family. In my mind, I still watch him walk out the office door, and I say a quiet "thanks" to folks whose mission is to enlarge the borders of home.

If the nativity teaches anything, it is the value of nurturing the hearts and souls of all people, and especially children. In our common life it happens at Meeting Ground every day, but it is never routine and it is always that for which we are most grateful.

Ending homelessness is about affordable housing, a living wage, and social justice. It is also about our values as a society, our priorities for the nurture and health of all people, and to make a place of hospitality in this world for the re-birth of optimism, confidence, imagination, and beauty.