In the first half of every month, I do this thing for Open Table, my church. We cook a free lunch every second Sunday, and I’m the advance man. On Wednesday or Thursday of the week preceding that Sunday, I distribute flyers promoting the meal. Here’s the one I passed out yesterday.
Dawn is cooking the meal this month. She’s been a member of our church for a long
time and is handy in the kitchen. Plus,
she cooks great food. This casserole is made
from her own recipe, and I can’t wait to have some. Joe, a member of our church whose family owned restaurants in Chicago, is baking fresh dinner rolls. It’s going to be a great meal.
Our church is downtown across from the city park on one of
Ottawa’s main drags. Until we looked more
closely, we hadn’t realized our neighborhood contains three public housing high
rise buildings within a few blocks of the church. I mean they were always there, but few of the
residents attend our church. We had to look outside of ourselves to see them. It’s a matter of perspective really.
We didn’t start these free lunches. The Episcopalians at the other end of the
block were first. They used to put a
sign out on the Sunday they served their lunch.
I would see it and think, what’s with that lunch? Who eats there? I wasn’t curious enough to go myself. It wasn’t until we repurposed our church,
looked closely at why we existed and set out to create another way to do
church that we began to explore efforts like the Episcopalians had done for
years. It was simple really. Instead of thinking of church as for the
people who came into the building, we focused on our neighbors outside of it.
The sky above Ottawa’s downtown is crowded with the steeples
of big old churches. When you approach
downtown from Ottawa’s south side, about to cross the Illinois River, you can
see all those steeples. They're pretty,
but I’m not sure of their purpose other than to hold massive bells that rarely
ring these days. A visual metaphor of reaching
up to God maybe? It’s an expensive
architectural feature, difficult to maintain.
If you build a new church today, would you spend the money to build one
of those towering steeples?
Open Table’s building, now a UCC church, was built by
Congregationalists in 1870. The Methodists
are kitty corner from us. The
Presbyterians are a block south. Two
blocks north is the largest of Ottawa’s Catholic churches, recently remodeled
inside and out. A block west is Christ
Community Church, which sold its traditional church building twenty-some years ago,
bought a vacant department store in the main business block, and created a
worship space upstairs with a coffee shop on the street level. Lots of choices for worship downtown.
Soon after Open Table joined the Episcopalians in serving a
free community lunch on a Sunday, the other downtown churches joined us. For years, volunteers have worked in the kitchens
of one of those churches preparing a meal while the Sunday service was underway. We open our doors to the hungry at noon.
Depending on the weather, in pre-pandemic days we often had up to 90
diners join us for dinner. But it wasn’t
just the food.
We quickly found that people also came for the
fellowship. They could catch up with one
another (and us), have a meal together, follow it up with a piece of pie,
coffee, and conversation. We all made new
friends. It was good to be part of
it. They didn’t fill our pews for
worship, but they gave us a needed sense of purpose.
And then Covid hit, and we were forced to offer carry-outs
only. The numbers have dropped, but we continue
to serve a core group of regulars. We hope
to return to in church dining very soon.
I have a feeling both the community and the churches miss those long
Sunday get-togethers.
So, Wendy, our church secretary, makes up a dozen flyers and
I spread them around the neighborhood the week before Open Table’s Sunday,
which is the second in the month. Here’s
the route. I start with two at Dougherty
Manor just a block from the church. Only
residents can walk into the building. I’m
locked out of the lobby.
Access to the Dougherty is lots easier in good weather when
there is invariably a group of smokers outside on benches under the trees. I approach them, tell them where I‘m from and
what’s for dinner that coming Sunday.
After doing that, someone always offers to go in with me so I can put
the flyers on their bulletin board by the elevator. No outside smokers today.
Our flyers stand out because of their color and the varied
type. Their competition for attention on
the bulletin board is mostly institutional-looking memos on colored paper from
the Housing Authority. Wendy’s pictures
of food grab their attention. There are
not always push pins available, so I take my own. Also scotch tape. Sometimes I tape one on the elevator door. I wait patiently outside the locked lobby
door.
Finally, a guy in sweatpants and a tee-shirt shuffles off
the elevator, notices me, and opens the door.
Before stepping in I give him my pitch and he steps aside for me to come
in. I know where the bulletin board is, but
I let him show me. Hoping I was the pest
control guy, he launches into a detailed description of a problem he believes
his next-door neighbor is experiencing with unwanted insects. I listen to his story a while before explaining I have other
stops to make. He says he may try out
the lunch on Sunday.
Next stop is Ravlin Congregate Center, which tends to have
older residents. There I go around to
the side. The Ravlin has lots of windows
and residents hang out in their sunny lobby.
Even if no one is outside I can usually get their attention through the
glass. They’re friendly at Ravlin.
Yesterday I was at the door with an Amazon delivery guy
loaded with packages. A take-charge
woman opens the door and points at the delivery guy.
“You’re OK to come in.
Good Lord man are all those packages for one person?”
“No.”
“OK. Sort them out
over here.”
She points to a table then turns her attention to me.
“What can I do for you?”
“I’m from Open Table Church.
I’m bringing over your flyers for Sunday Lunch.”
“Oh, you’ve been here before. What are you cooking?”
“Beef and potato casserole from one of our best cooks. Corn. Home-baked dinner rolls. Brownies for dessert.”
“Let me put those up for you. Still carry-outs? When are you going to let people in for
dinner?”
“Just as soon as we can.”
She posts one of the flyers on the bulletin board and puts
the other on a big table where give-away items are often laid out for
residents.
Next, I drive west and stop at the radio station on the
other side of the park. It’s an
important stop. It’s small-town radio,
lots of older listeners on AM, don’t know who listens to FM. I get out three flyers, write a note on them to
each of the three voices I hear on the radio: Jay, Maggie, and Rick, and leave
them with whoever answers the door. We
always get airtime. Thanks, WCMY.
The Salvation Army building is next on my route. The pandemic has affected them like everyone. I go inside, ring a bell, and wait. Soon a woman emerges from the back. I’d never seen her before.
“I’m from Open Table Church.
I come every month and you post these flyers for our free Sunday
lunch. Can you do that again for us?”
She looks at me and smiles.
“Of course. We’ll be
glad to.”
“Thanks so much.”
Short and sweet. I’m
on my way quickly. Almost done.
My last stop is Fox High Rise. If there is a place that’s hard to get into any
given month, it’s the Fox. Their lobby
is usually empty. I check around the
side for smokers on the benches. When I connect with them they let me in the side door. Lots of
times they’re anxious to talk so I have a seat with them after. I enjoy it.
You learn things from new voices. No smokers yesterday though. Too
cold.
I go to the front door and wait. Someone will go out or come in, and I’ll
talk them into letting me inside. Sure
enough, an old Chevy that needs a muffler pulls into the parking lot. I wait for the driver to come inside but she
is on the phone, having a very animated discussion with someone. I can’t hear her, but she is gesturing wildly
with her free hand. My hunch is that
conversation will not end quickly. It
doesn’t. I turn my attention back to the
empty lobby. Nothing happens. It’s cold.
Finally, a big guy in a flannel shirt, bib overalls, and knee-high
rubber boots emerges from a door in the back of the lobby. His boots clomp on the tile floor. They might be too big for him. He opens the door. He’s much taller than me.
“Hi. I’m from Open
Table Church. We have a free lunch every
second Sunday of the month and I come every month to post these flyers. I was hoping to put these on your bulletin
board.”
He reaches for the flyer without speaking and I pass it to
him through the doorway. He takes it and
reads it slowly. Instead of talking to me,
he opens the door farther and points to the bulletin board.
“Thanks.”
I walk past him. He stays at the door. After posting the flyers I walk back to the
door where he is still standing.
“If you don’t have plans Sunday, come down for a carry-out. It’s going to be tasty.”
He looks at me. Still
silent. Opens the door.
“OK. Well, I’ll be
going now. Stay warm.”
“Yep.”
You meet all kinds of people when you’re out in the
community, big talkers and people of few words alike. And then there was my
last contact, a man of one word. At
least it was a positive one.
So that’s the deal.
Free lunch at noon on February 13 at Open Table and every Sunday in one
of Ottawa’s downtown churches. Delicious
homemade food for carry-out. Everyone
is welcome. You included. Brought to you year-round by faith communities
looking beyond themselves to the needs of those around them.
