The following was written by Kevin Daniels, our Program Fellow, who is spending a year with the Episcopal Service Corp.

Prior to this year’s Walk the Road event, I did not realize the devastation that has resulted from the increase of food deserts in the local neighborhoods of Atlanta, such as Peoplestown.  After attending the event, I became more aware of and knowledgeable about the socioeconomic plight caused by the food insecurities that pervade urban communities.  Our executive director, Joseph Mole, addressed participants at the beginning of the event to define its purpose and to invite us to engage in dialogue and education.  In his opening address, he mentioned that Atlanta ranks third in terms of food deserts.

By definition, a food desert is an area where there is no grocery store or food market within a one to two-mile radius of an urban residential community.  At the panel discussion during the Walk the Road event, a panelist suggested an optional solution known as limited resource farming.  In limited resource farming, independent farmers advertise and sell their own produce to third-party markets or stores in urban neighborhoods.  Both farmer and consumer benefit from the flow of profitable capital from those businesses and from the experience of being a stakeholder in their community.  This strategy also provides more cost-efficient and healthy food options for consumers with limited food budgets.  Most importantly, this method would help to eliminate food disparities in urban areas.

Legally, a perceived disregard for equal opportunity in the judicial branch of government hinders the implementation of this solution.  The prospect of expanding urban agriculture has faced a prolonged effort to block increased opportunities and access to more resources for urban farmers.  For example, a 1999 class action lawsuit between the USDA and a considerable number of African-American farmers resulted in a promised that over $1.3 million dollars would be accessible to aid the minority farmers in boosting their revenue and to nurture entrepreneurial potential in urban agriculture.  In actuality, less than 2 percent urban farmers received funds that in total equaled no more than $55,000.  The discriminatory practices of the USDA have resulted in the denial of once guaranteed benefits and resources.

As a participant of this year’s Walk the Road experience, I have been compelled to commit my life to help reform policies that enhance and uphold the total welfare of all people.  Access to food is a fundamental human right that we must pursue by advocating fair opportunities and resources for urban farmers and by subverting the injustices associated with food disparities in low-income neighborhoods.  In the spirit of Psalm 24, the earth’s fullness must be savored and shared impartially and its bounty must not be constrained. 

Kevin J. Daniels

Episcopal Service Corps

2014-15 Community Service Fellow

Emmaus House / Lokey Center

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“Start by doing what is necessary, then what is possible, and suddenly you are doing the impossible.”
 

St. Francis of Assisi, a 13th century friar dedicated to serving the poor and arguably one of the most compelling figures in Church history, admonished the friars in his order with this simple message.  As a leader of organizations serving people impacted by poverty and injustice, I’ve seen the wisdom of these words play out time and time again.
 
Every day at Emmaus House, staff and volunteers help our neighbors do what is necessary and possible, and there are moments of inspiration when someone we’ve encountered achieves what seemed impossible.  A father lands a long-awaited job after months of unemployment.  A high school student gets the chance to go to camp in New England and fly on an airplane for the first time.  These are just a few of countless examples.
 
Phil Daniels, former psychology professor at Brigham Young University, developed a tool for assessing one’s roles and activities in life and work, which can be summed up in these words: Keep-Stop-Start.  I’ve found this reflective practice to be useful both personally and with organizations, and have even seen it adapted to include a fourth option: Improve.
 
Through your support and prayers, Emmaus House’ next chapter will be a story of the impossible becoming a daily reality in the lives of children, youth and families.  We will only achieve this through ongoing reflection on what we, as an organization, should keep, improve, stop, or start.  Thank you for walking this road with us.
 
Grace and peace,
 
--Joseph
 
Joseph D. Mole
Executive Director
josephmole@emmaushouse.org

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Walk the Road 2014 – “Growing Solutions to Living in a Food Desert”Sunday, September 28, 2014 from 3:00 – 6:00 p.m.

According to the US Department of Agriculture, a food desert is an urban area without ready access to fresh, healthy, and affordable food.

How can the residents and supporters of Peoplestown work to increase the availability of quality, healthy foods?  We will explore important issue using group discussions, service projects, and a walk to neighborhood convenience stores to shop for a nutritious meal.

A panel discussion will examine the impact of food deserts on public health in Atlanta, considering the following questions:

• How can we develop alternative retail outlets and grow food locally?
• How can we get a grocery store in our neighborhood?
• How do we substitute convenience with quality?

There will be three service projects:

• Making sandwiches for distribution in the Lokey Center
• Sorting cans of food for the food pantry
• The Game of Life (an interactive game that explores the effects of poverty on daily life)

Staff members and community residents will lead groups to the four neighborhood stores to see if it is possible to purchase the ingredients of a healthy meal.

Suggested donation: five cans of food or $5.00 to support our food pantry.  Those who donate will receive a free Walk the Road t-shirt.

A festive cookout will follow.

Source - Rolling Stone - 7/15/13 http://tinyurl.com/mzbespk

“Black boys’ lives have value.”  These were the words hand-written on signs photographed by Rolling Stone magazine in the wake of Trayvon Martin’s death in February 2012.  On Saturday, these same words filled my heart and mind at the news of Michael Brown’s death in Ferguson, Missouri.  Trayvon Marton.  Michael Brown.  These two names made the news.  But prior to the recent media fervor how many black and brown boys have died a similar death in silence, their stories never told?  Their violent passing never protested or publicly mourned?

While we don’t know what happened on Saturday afternoon in Missouri, both police and eyewitnesses report that this 18-year old, college-bound young man was unarmed.  It would appear that fear of the looming figure of a black man was cause enough to fire upon “more than just a couple times,” in the words of the police chief.

It happened in Ferguson, but it could just as easily have been Peoplestown.  As I walked back to the office after a community meeting late Monday night past a handful of young men talking outside the youth center, I imagined myself for a moment in their shoes.  What might it feel like to walk down the street amidst reports that a security officer kills a black man every 28 hours in our country?  What might it feel like to live in the awareness that those sworn to serve and protect may perceive me as a threat to protect the community from?

I am moved by the words of Oscar Romero, bishop of the Catholic Church in El Salvador, who was assassinated while offering mass in 1980 for denouncing government violence and the violation of human rights.

Nothing is so important to the church as human life,

as the human person, above all, the person of the poor and oppressed.

Besides being human beings,

they are also divine beings,

since Jesus said that whatever is done to them

he takes as done to him.

That bloodshed, those deaths,

are beyond all politics.

They touch the very heart of God.

May our hearts be moved to love, and our feet be moved to action on behalf of young black and brown men living at the very doorstep of Emmaus House, throughout our city, and across our nation.

Grace and peace, --

Joseph

Joseph D. Mole

Executive Director

josephmole@emmaushouse.org

http://www.rollingstone.com/politics/pictures/new-yorkers-march-for-trayvon-martin-20130715/black-boys-lives-have-value-too-0817042

(Addie spent the last year living in community at Emmaus House and serving as a fellow with The Road, the local chapter of the Episcopal Service Corp.  Emmaus House was her work site as well as her home.)June 2014

Chords and Other Life-Lines, by Addie Washington

If you asked me today whether I have more clarity about what I believe—theologically, morally, politically—after this year, I wouldn’t have neat, settled thoughts to share with you.  Initially, I would be tempted to tell you that the waters of my mind have been troubled rather than clarified through the many experiences of my year.   Initially.

A couple Sundays ago, as we celebrated Pentecost, I felt something true wash over me while singing the offertory hymn with our small choir.

“Lord, listen to your children praying

Lord, send your spirit in this place

Lord, listen to your children praying

Send us love, send us power, send us grace”

In the midst of devastating headlines, daunting transitions at work, family dinners, prison visits, MARTA rides, food deserts, and long-distance phone calls, this moment of harmony and yearning found me and held me fast.  Right there, with those kindred folks in the back of that little chapel.  Like a draught of water when your mouth is utterly parched and unfamiliar.  Lifting our voices in this hope, in desperation or trust, reminded me where I was.  Right there, with those kindred folks in the back of that little chapel.  Standing on solid ground, not sinking sand, and together.

For me, there have been a smattering of moments this year when my encounter with another has moved me so profoundly; moments of seeing more clearly or for the first time, a part of another’s journey and understanding a new piece of my own.

When I think about my learning and growth over the last year, I’m thinking about recognition of fear, and confrontation with integral Addie-weaknesses and hopes.  Courage to face these coming from a life more anchored in prayer, bolstered by times of silence and reflection, but most importantly from the invitation to be with another in a moment of her or his life—in the midst of her or his own troubled waters.  Peering through plexi-glass at a detainee in Stewart Detention Center and feeling how thin the barriers that differentiate us really are; playing with the little ones from the chapel and being welcomed into yet another realm of fears and dreams.

If I yearn to live in hope and courage and light in any of these moments, it’s because my life is built on that song’s simple prayer, I think.  In working to grow my patience and care for others, I have to do the same work within myself.  And singing that hymn with my friends and fellow saints was a reminder that we walk the road together, God burning in our hearts, stirring us on.  And that strengthens me too.

“Lord, listen to your children praying,

Send us love, send us power, send us grace.”

Dear friends of Emmaus House,Toyohiko Kagawa (1888-1960), Japanese pacifist, Christian reformer, evangelist, and labor activist once said these words: “I read in a book that a man called Christ went about doing good.  It is very disconcerting to me that I am so easily satisfied with just going about.”

In my first week as Executive Director of Emmaus House I’ve had a front row seat to witness staff, volunteers and community residents “going about doing good” with compassion and excellence.  From the smiles on the faces of Seventh Heaven day campers to the warm welcome from community members and numerous meetings with stakeholders, I’ve been both inspired and humbled by what I have experienced.

I look forward to connecting with each of you in the coming months as I acclimate to my new role, and I welcome your insight during that process.  Emmaus House has a great heritage of ministry, advocacy, and service, and I am thrilled to be part of the good we will do together as we enter this new chapter.

Grace and peace,

--Joseph

Elizabeth Roles interviewed several of our Camp Summer Hope participants, asking them what they liked best about camp and what they learned.  Check them out!

Leavings

They’re all different, aren’t they?

Leaving…

for the first day of school

after a poor audition

for deployment overseas

after a child’s wedding

for a vacation

after a hospital stay

for a trial

after a sports loss

for a baby shower

after a good day’s work

for a blind date

after a funeral

Leaving is all about coming and going, or so it seems. But I think it’s actually about leavings (with an s).  What are we leaving behind as gift or burden, known or even unknown?  What are we carrying forward, all that is wonderful or worrisome which is left on our hearts?  And what will become of our leavings, those left behind and those carried forward?

“I will not leave you comfortless,” Jesus tells the disciples before the Ascension. In seminary, I was taught that comfort isn’t about soothing, but that it means, “to strengthen with” (from the Latin).  In all our arrivals and departures, we are strengthened by the power of God with us.  I know this about my own life as it unfolds, and I know it about the life of the beloved communities known as Emmaus House and Emmaus House Chapel.  Sometimes we call this God’s providence.  This does not mean that what is happening is because of a grand plan in which we are merely puppets.  No, God’s providence means that in whatever circumstance we find ourselves, God provides enough for us to act in faith.  Yep.  I learned that in seminary too and I still draw on those leavings from 40 years ago, just as I will be sustained by the leavings I take with me from this holy place.  And so we all rejoice, give thanks and sing, called into the future by the One who is our strength and our greatest joy and who continually sustains us with Comfort and Love.

The following was written by Claiborne Jones, retiring Executive Director and Vicar of Emmaus House and included in the Summer 2014 issue of Pathways, the journal of the Episcopal Diocese of Atlanta (reprinted with permission).The boys were shot a little after nine o’clock on Palm Sunday night.

That morning, walking the thoroughly pollenated gardens of Emmaus House for our procession, we sang Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory of the Coming of the Lord, Gonna Lay Down My Sword and Shield and When the Saints Go Marching In. When it came time to chant Psalm 118, there were no mellifluous sounds to be heard. Just a scratchy, dry sound like an old LP came out of my mouth. Andre, a big, strong, quick, playful, dimpled 15 year old, got the giggles. And I mean the uncontrollable giggles. I almost got the giggles too. As folks were entering the church I poked my index finger at his chest. “Okay, buddy roe,” I smiled. “Next year you’re chanting the psalm.” More giggles.

Monday around 9 a.m., I got a call that Andre Johnson and his half-brother Nick Martin were at Grady ICU, both shot in the head, and that a third friend had been shot in the ankle. Disbelief. Anguish. Rage. Confusion. On the drive to the hospital, I raged at God with tears and screams I didn’t know were in me. At Grady the waiting room was filled with distraught teenagers and parents. We prayed, probably 80 of us, in a big circle. People shared what they knew.

Our boys had gotten an ice cream at Mr. McGruder’s Store beside Emmaus House, then walked across the street towards Nick’s mom’s apartment. A former police car was driven up and another vehicle filled with older men. There were sassy words. Then a man got out and began shooting our boys as another trained the police car spotlight on them, tracking them in the darkness. They drove off. An ambulance came for Nick. Andre ran home and got to the hospital in the back of a neighbor’s pick-up truck.

Monday afternoon, while I sat with the Martin family whose son was close to death, the waiting room attendant came in with a portable phone. “This lady says she is your auntie and she doesn’t have your cell number.” Puzzled, Mrs. Martin took the call. It was a reporter from a major local TV news show. I kid you not. By the end of the day, Nick had died, Andre had lost an eye, and their friend had gone home in a cast. Tuesday morning, at the Renewal of Vows at the Cathedral, I simply collapsed in babbling grief, held by a wonderful priest.

A year passed. A trial was held. I went every day. The alleged perpetrator was acquitted unanimously. I reckon it was hard for middle class jurors to believe the guys from the ‘hood’ who gave testimony were telling the truth. After the verdict was read, the judge made the accused wait for the jurors to leave before telling the man how unbelievably lucky he was not to be going to prison.

And then, a month or so after that, our whole Chapel congregation went to Holy Innocents’ for Mother’s Day. Five wonderful mothers in our congregation sat with Michael Sullivan to talk in the adult forum. The moms in the audience began smiling, nodding their heads, some surprise on a few faces, experiencing that maternal sisterhood across race and class. Then Andre’s mother quietly spoke. “Sometimes people are mothers who haven’t had their own kids. When I was going through the worst day of my life, when I though my son was on the point of death and the people at the hospital said everyone but immediately family had to leave, my friend hid behind a column so the attendant couldn’t see her. And she came back with us to the room and stayed with us. We just told the staff she was part of our family. She is a mother to me.” I was deeply touched. I am that friend. But also I wanted to say, “How can you be grateful for anything after what happened to Andre, to the boys?”

What I have learned about gratitude at Emmaus House is that it is not simply feeling thankfulness for safe children, enough food, shelter, good grades, justice, a job, a loving family, staying away from drugs. Christian gratitude is also an act of the will, a refiner’s fire, which forges out of the most awful circumstances eyes to see and hearts to give thanks for Love writ large, Christ’s eyes, fiercely weeping with us and blessing us at the same time. “How can we not be grateful, Claiborne?” a parishioner asked after the tragedy. “God has been so good to us. Of course we are grateful. Of course.”

-The Reverend E. Claiborne Jones