Neighbors, Funerals, and The Non-neighbor church

As I type this, I hear the voices and laughter of friends and family of my next door neighbors. Steve and Kelly (and their kids Ashley, William, Stevie, Josh and Alaya) live in the front house, and Louisa, Alex, little Alex and Dominick live in the garage in the back: with the exception of Alex, who died a week ago. Alex Andrew Gomes was 32 years old, and died from a heart attack. He was in the bay area for a Union training program, and apparently was being chased by a Macy's security guard in Pleasanton, and once caught, he began to shake and died instantly. His years of drug abuse and his 429 lbs. contributed to his death, absolutely, which, in no way lessens the loss and the sadness for his family and friends.
Most of my conversations with Alex were about his desire to "get back on track," to find steady work, to use his hands, to take care of Louisa and the boys, to get back into his own house and out of Kelly's garage. He laughed easily and often, and with the weight of the world on his shoulders, he had an easy smile and was very likeable. He and I kidded about weight, about parking in front of our houses, about food--he once stopped at my fence and told me that he envied my life--no family, no cares, just being able to sit on the porch and swing--but, then, he paused and said, "maybe it's not so good--you don't have a wife and kids to love on, and to love you back, so, nope, maybe I wouldn't trade places--but, every now and then I may need to come over to your house for some peace and quiet."
I loved that conversation. I remember every breath of it--it made me think about my life and his, and how similar we were, but, different: but what we had in common was our neighborhood. There is a power in that word that I cannot fully comprehend.
So, in the past week, I have learned how difficult it is to secure a large body from a morgue in another county. I have learned how much it cost to transport a large body, the cost of a large coffin, of cremation, of a funeral home, of a viewing, a viewing room, flowers, hearses.
Alex and Louisa had very little, and all of these costs were more than they had. Louisa told me that they took the $320.00 to pay the morgue out of Alex's wallet in the police station. When they returned home with Alex's van, the repo man was waiting, and their car was repossessed the next day. As Louisa sat making a music cd to play at his memorial service, their power was turned off for non-payment. To quote a line from Beth Henley's "Crimes of the Heart," "they weren't having a very good day. At all."
The family held a car wash to raise money for the cremation and the other death expenses. It's something that happens alot here in Fresno, when poor families have a death, sometimes as a result of drugs and other crime, the family holds donation car washes to raise the necessary cash. It is not uncommon to see the young widows, mothers, and children of the dead holding signs with the deceased picture on them, and begging people to come and have their car washed. For this community, it is as much a part of the death ritual as sitting in a wake or "shua" in other cultures. I took my car to be washed, helped wash my own car, and paid far more than I would at White Glove car wash. That's what neighbors do here. We help, we wash, we pay, too.
Alex and Louisa had been loosely connected to Bethany Inner City Church, which meets in the World Impact building down the street from our houses. Pastor Jonathan Villalobos leads the church. They are a rag-tag bunch, reaching many people in my neighborhood. Those with addictions, with criminal records, with ankle bracelets, the very poor, gangbangers--Bethany is the neighborhood church, and Alex and Louisa had been on several retreats with them, and were a part of some small groups at the church. Jonathan met with Louisa and planned the service, and contacted a mortician to take care of the body, and to get it from point A to point B. Jonathan and Bethany stepped in and helped, and my own church, The Well, brought by some food, and did some emergency work on the house that Alex and Louisa owned, that had been used as a boarding house and was being heavily fined by code enforcement. Bethany and The Well did meaningful acts in the difficult time. Artie, from the Well, made efforts to stop by and visit, and did a good job of representing the Church to the Gomes.
Jonathan arranged for the memorial service to be held at 1st Presbyterian Church, the church that is one block away, and has a large facility-a sanctuary, fellowship hall, parking lot, bathrooms, the works. The service was held in the youth room, #104.
I left my house early to go over and help--I stopped by Kelly and Steve's to get them, and 2 of the kids asked to walk over with me.. They asked, "where is the church?" I said, oh, it's just over at First Presbyterian, you know.... but, they did NOT know where 1st Presbyterian was--the largest church in our community, and by far the wealthiest, was unknown to my neighborhood children. Joshua and Faith are in second grade at Lowell, and they are a part of the YFC kid's club, the Lowell Kid's club, sometimes go to Wise Old Owl (the IV program) and Saturday Sports, led by The Well. These kids seem to be served by every church and ministry around, with the exception of First Pres. We literally live in the shadow of the steeple of 1st Pres., but, the church has had NO direct impact on the lives of these kids.
We walked across the patio of the church, and over 80 people crowded into the small youth room, with murals on the wall, and folding chairs set up among the pin-ball and foosball games. The Coke machine rattled throughout the Lord's Prayer and scripture reading. By all appearances, these folks were comfortable in this room, and thought nothing of the environment, but, I could not help but think, "why aren't we in the sanctuary?" "where is the church staff to welcome this group of neighbors?" "why isn't someone from this church here to mourn the loss of one of THEIR neighbors also?" Perhaps they were debating Amendment 0, or C, or deciding their denominational future, but, they, were not present, even in their own building.
(I'm amazed at the number of churches who feel that they have done their part by allowing another group to "use" their facility--as if the presence of an outside group satisfies the requirement of community participation. Use of a facility without the actual presence of the Body of people is alot like borrowing a casket...)
My thinking is that, like Alex, this church has become fat (and lazy.) They have all that they need, they have a large "drive-by" congregation--folks that DRIVE BY the neighborhood to get to their "patrolled" parking lot. The staff of this church has probably driven by Alex and Louisa's house hundreds of times, but, never stopped. They even have a mission's director, who, I'm sure cares about the neighborhood, but may have lot touch with the actual "neighbor" They even have a "pastor-at-large" who may be so "at large" that no one in the neighborhood knows what he does, or where he does it, but, it's obvious, NOT in this neighborhood.
Maybe 1st Pres. USED to care, used to be in touch with it's neighbors. I hear that they made a big deal about their decision to STAY downtown, that's very different from the decision to actually BE PRESENT in the downtown neighborhood that is our home.
At Alex's service, there was a row of women who are all nurse's aides at Hope Manor, the board and care facility wher Kelly works, and is on the next bloci. I noticed them,and wondered, "what difference would it make if this church ceased to be on this corner?" From this experience, they would know that the folding chairs are uncomfortable, the room is messy, and they crowded 80 people into a 45 person room, but, the disappearance of this church would have little impact on many of the people who live nearby.
I'm sad about the death of Alex, and I'm disappointed that a church did not represent the Church well. What gives me hope is the voice of a young man (from Bethany) who said, "wasn't this a cool service." Yes, it was a cool service--and, I thought about his comment as I walked home. These folks thought it was a cool service. The disappointment is ONLY in my heart and mind. This is the way that I, a person who does not live in poverty, looks at the situation. Then, it hit me: BAM, really hit me, "Blessed (happy) are the POOR, for they shall inherit the Kingdom..." and, I realize that the change in the non-neighbor church had to come in ME, that I needed to become POOR, like my neighbors, and God had used 1st Pres. to remind me of the soil of my own heart. Maybe I'm so ready to point out their failures because they amplify my own.
God bless my neighbors, and God have mercy on those of us who call ourselves "neighbors" but miss the mark.