Mourning and Learning from the Loss of a Homeless Neighbor
Mourning and Learning from the Loss of a Homeless Neighbor
From Pastor Chris
On the morning of December 16, 2017, as we were preparing for Ted Prince’s funeral, a homeless man wearing a helmet walked in the front door of our church. He said nothing. He looked at no one. He simply made a beeline for one of the chairs in the foyer, sat down, and fell asleep.
There was enough time before the service to let him thaw from the chilly morning. Once the family and closest friends started arriving, I informed our visitor that we were about to host a funeral and, unless he was there to attend, would need him to move on. I tried asking him a few questions but he merely grunted and left. The chair where he had been sitting was saturated with urine and feces.
Just over a year later, this January, our neighbor reappeared with a very similar ritual. He walked in on a Sunday morning, went straight to the chair, and quietly sat down to warm up. Again, he was saturated with urine and the foyer was quickly filled with the smell.
This happened to occur on the Sunday when I preached on humanity’s creation in the image of God. While the particular applications of that sermon were the dignity of life in the womb and the dignity of people from all ethnicities, it was difficult to escape the sermon application that sat in our foyer. Urine-soaked or not, this gentleman was created in God’s image and worthy of dignity and respect.
To my delight, much dignity and respect was shown to this man. Many of our deacons and ushers engaged him, offering coffee and trying to get to know him. We thought he said his name was Denny, so that is how we referred to him. Later we communicated internally about how to best love him while maintaining appropriate security and sanitation (we had to throw away a second chair). How do wisdom and compassion overlap in this situation? How do we show kindness to someone who is not interested in attending the service but needs to find warmth?
Denny attended the following week with the same ritual. Then we did not see him again. About a month later, Nancye Campbell began hearing from some of the food pantry clients that perhaps he had died. Then a March 30th obituary in the Washington Post confirmed the news. Sitting in a grassy area next to Calvary Presbyterian Church, half a mile from our building, Danny Brumfield started hemorrhaging internally and the next day, February 27th, died. He was 67 years old.
The obituary in the Post captures all the complexity involved in loving our homeless neighbors. Danny dealt with undiagnosed mental illness. He fought in the Vietnam War. And in 1992 he left his wife and two children in Gaithersburg, MD and dropped off the radar screen for 21 years. When his daughter finally located him at the Dunkin’ Donuts on Route 1, he refused all offers of assistance.
How do these pieces fit together? What factor cause which outcome? Was the refusal of help due to the mental illness or to pride? How do you love someone who does not want help?
Jesus, divine Word made flesh, modeled the heart of God as he interacted with people like Danny. “When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd” (Matthew 9:36). He was also the healer who asked two blind men who cried out for mercy, “What do you want me to do for you?” (Matthew 20:32). He was gut-wrenched by the brokenness he saw in humanity, yet he wanted them to vocalize their need and simply ask. Most importantly, he did this all in person as Immanuel, God with us.
As I’m sure Danny’s daughter learned, there are no simple solutions to loving those with complex problems. It is not unloving to set appropriate boundaries and expectations with those we serve. But more important than policies is our ministry of presence. When we are present with those in need, we remember that life is more than food and clothing. We may discover that the external needs of those we sit with mirror more of our emotional and spiritual needs than we would like to admit. Even if we do not understand the mental patterns of those we serve, our resolve to not condescend to them but experience solidarity with them identifies us not as the Messiah but in the crowd he came to shepherd.
I mourn the death of Danny Brumfield. I grieve the loss his family experienced, not only on February 27th but since 1992. I am thankful that we met him with kindness in our brief interactions. And I am sorry that we did not have more opportunities to be made uncomfortable by the unique challenges he presented. Route 1 being what it is, I’m sure many more lie ahead of us.
As they do, may we magnify God’s reputation emblazoned across this Holy Week – mercy, compassion, resolve, and sacrifice in the hope of resurrection life. As we receive the grace of Christ’s self-giving love, may we faithfully pursue self-giving relationship with others, even if they cannot vocalize their need for it.
*Please take time to read Danny Brumfield’s obituary - CLICK HERE