By Robert McGarvey

I did not understand many of the core teachings of the New Testament until I began to volunteer to help feed the many homeless in Phoenix where I live.

Mainly I had seen the Catholic teachings as a very long list of prohibitions, what not to do. Things we ought not want to do, to be sure.

But then what? I suppose I had a sense of there being more, but I cannot say I energetically pursued the discovery.

That all began to change when I started working with the homeless. Today, if you asked me why I am a Catholic, I would tell you this: Because it gives me a platform for serving the homeless.

I would say that loudly and with great pride.

Scripture backs me up:

There’s Luke 3:10-11: “And the multitudes asked him, ‘What then shall we do?’ and he answered them, ‘He who has two coats, let him share with him who has none; and he who has food, let him do likewise.’”

Matthew 25: 37-40 “Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see thee hungry and feed thee, or thirsty and give thee drink? And when did we see thee a stranger and welcome thee, or naked and clothe thee? And when did we see thee sick or in prison and visit thee?’ 40 And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brethren, you did it to me.’”

And there’s this.

Matthew 6:1-4 “Beware of practicing your piety before men in order to be seen by them; for then you will have no reward from your Father who is in heaven.

“Thus, when you give alms, sound no trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, that they may be praised by men. Truly, I say to you, they have their reward. But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your alms may be in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.”

Call me a late learner. This mission came to me in my mid-sixties. It started when I saw a notice in the weekly bulletin of St Mary’s Basilica in downtown Phoenix where I had become a parishioner, but I would have graded me a listless Catholic. I did nothing outside attending Mass and making an obligatory Confession once a year around Christmas.

That notice sought volunteers to feed the homeless at Grace Lutheran – like St Mary’s, an historic Phoenix church – a few blocks away from St Mary’s. Grace has for many years run a summertime Heat Respite program where it welcomes homeless into its air-conditioned social hall during the hot Phoenix days. Grace seeks volunteers from local churches to prepare and serve lunch and St Mary’s had agreed to do this a couple days.

In my first service I took on what I quickly realized was the most miserable job – boiling around 50 pounds of spaghetti in huge, bubbling pots of water – and the job truly is miserable because boiling water splashes the cook and the heat at the stove is intense.

But in the Grace social room — named Hope Hall – what I saw was a look of what amounted to calm on the faces of hundreds of homeless, many wearing tattered rags, unwashed. Out on the streets and sidewalk their faces radiate misery, especially in the summer months when rough sleeping can result in death. Probably over 400 died of heat related causes this past summer and, year in, year out there are similar death counts. Heat respite, I grasped, was in fact a life saver.

The following year the parishioner who coordinated the Grace events for St Mary’s stepped aside and our pastor asked me what we should do. I figured I was being indirectly tapped for the job, so I volunteered to run it and I have since, even during the pandemic when we stopped indoor feeding but delivered thousands of sack lunches.

Along the way I initiated monthly St. Mary’s service at Andre House in downtown Phoenix, a project of the fathers of the Holy Cross (who run Notre Dame among many other universities). This part of downtown is where many organizations that serve the homeless are located such as St. Vincent de Paul. This has become an epicenter of human misery. Until a recent court order that forced a clearing of the area by the city, over one thousand homeless people called tattered tents in the neighborhood, home.

If you had seen the place, you wouldn’t believe this could exist in America.

The tents now are gone, the people are still there and so is the misery.

Andre House is a full-service institution – it helps the homeless with job counseling, it provides showers, there’s clothing, storage lockers, and the Andre House centerpiece which is dinner six nights a week (not Friday). On a typical night dinner is served to 400 to 600. On Sundays, the days we choose to work, there’s chili (a vegetarian option is available), usually a salad or other vegetables, often bread, always a dessert (often slices of cake past the sell by date and donated by supermarkets).

The food is good. Sometimes volunteers show me a moldy potato or a very stale slice of cake. I always tell them the same: If you wouldn’t eat it, throw it away. If it’s not good enough for us, it is not good enough for our guests.

There are few overt references to Catholicism in the Andre Housework. Those who know, know. Those who don’t, don’t need to. The work happens regardless.

What do we in fact do? Our volunteers chop and dice vegetables and fruit, we serve the diners (as many as 700 are served in an hour), we clean up and all the jobs are menial. I tell would-be volunteers anybody can do this work.

But there is one more job and it is the hardest, the most important and the most fulfilling for volunteers and it’s that we strive to treat our dinner guests with kindness and respect. They are people of importance, and we communicate that.

Because of course they are, as Jesus told us in Matthew.

But remember, Jesus also tells us to do our giving in secret.

We do that at Andre House and also at Grace Lutheran. The only witnesses are other volunteers and the hungry.

And Jesus, of course.

Robert McGarvey is the volunteer coordinator for Andre House at St Mary’s Basilica in downtown Phoenix.