Second Sunday Lunch

 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.