Homeless men can come in from the cold to spend night at Delaware parish center

By Michael Short, OSV News

LEWES, Del. (OSV News) -- The homeless men come through the door every night, bundled against the biting wind and harsh winter cold.

Some walk. Some ride bicycles. A few have a car, but most come on the public bus, with the transportation arranged by the state.

Up to 14 homeless men a night now take shelter at St. Jude the Apostle Catholic Church's Parish Life Center in Lewes, a Delaware beach town. They show up about 8:45 p.m., get a hot snack and a bottle of water, gather their bedding and make up a folding cot for the night. Most charge their phone or read before going to sleep.

Lights go out at 10 p.m. and they arise early, in time to leave the parish center by 7 a.m. to take the same bus back to the Community Resource Center facility in Rehoboth Beach. The center is part of Code Purple of Sussex County, offering emergency nighttime shelter for homeless neighbors during the winter months by utilizing church sanctuaries, time, talent and support.

Code Purple is operated by Love in the Name of Christ of Delmarva, or Love Inc., whose mission is "to mobilize local churches to transform lives and communities in the name of Christ." Love Inc. also offers a clothing pantry, to-go meals, budgeting help, mentoring and other services.

St. Jude opened its shelter Dec. 1, among a group of six churches in the region, and it will close in mid-March.

It's for men only and there’s a limit of 14 guests set by the fire marshal. Volunteers check-in the homeless, greeting them, asking them about their day and signing them in. They must sign a code of conduct and no alcohol or drugs are allowed. Anyone who makes trouble is informed he is no longer welcome.

More volunteers show up to help the men as they make their way out in the morning. The men roll up the bedding, gather their possessions and get a to-go bag with bottled water, crackers, protein bars and dried fruit.

Volunteers stay the night in the Parish Life Center. Other volunteers drive the shuttle bus.

It's been nearly flawless, according to organizers. There's video surveillance in the parish center and the state police will sometimes stop by to check on things. Help is never more than a phone call away, but trouble comes rarely, if ever.

"No one has been disruptive at all," said site manager Mike Agnew, a former theology teacher.

The volunteers "are getting as much" from the program as the men who need shelter, he told The Dialog, newspaper of the Diocese of Wilmington. "The idea is to raise self-esteem and dignity. ... If they're going to climb out of this, you have to start by making them realize their self-worth."

Many of the men have jobs, although having a job and being able to afford a home in the beach area, with its sky-high housing costs, can be very different things. In the shadow of million-dollar homes, some have little but the clothes on their back. Some of them are articulate and well-read.

One is a bartender. Another plays guitar. Another works in a nearby fast-food restaurant, washing dishes and making sandwiches. Some work in poultry plants. One is about to begin full-time work as a custodian.

Many have health issues. Living on the streets can take a heavy toll on both body and soul.

St. Jude's decision to join the Code Purple program comes against a backdrop of rising homelessness in Delaware. The rate has doubled since 2020, with almost all the increase coming in Kent and Sussex counties, the southern and less-populated part of the state.

There are now an estimated 2,300 homeless men, women and children in Delaware, according to statistics provided by the "Point in Time Count," a federally mandated census count of the homeless from the Department of Housing and Urban Development.

Agnew said COVID-19 has been a factor in the increase. A bigger factor, he believes, has been the difficulty of finding affordable housing in the beach region. As usual, everyone has a different story. Medical bills, lost jobs, health issues, lost insurance, drug or alcohol issues might all be reasons.

The reason matters little when the guests arrive. They are called guests, a deliberate word choice to make people feel welcome and cared for. "I think everyone has a different reason for being here. … It's a matter of finding a way to climb out of it," he said.

Agnew gave credit to Father Brian Lewis, St. Jude's pastor, for quickly getting on board with the idea of offering emergency shelter and giving his approval for it to begin.

It didn't take a lot to convince the priest that helping the homeless is a chance to live the Gospel and his almost infectious joy sold the idea to the parish.

He gave an impassioned homily before Halloween to announce the program and received an ovation at the end of that homily.

Father Lewis spoke of Halloween costumes and his belief that Christ often comes to us in the disguise of others, perhaps as a little child or a loved one. Father Lewis said that perhaps he also comes in the disguise of the poor, the homeless and the hungry. "We need to look into our heart and see Jesus in the disguise of these men," he said.

He spoke of Matthew when Jesus separates the sheep from the goats and tells the sheep, "When I was hungry, you gave me to eat. When I was thirsty, you gave me to drink. A stranger and you welcomed me. Whatsoever you did for the least of my brothers, you did for me."

"He walks still among us in disguise," Father Lewis said. "What is he saying? He is saying that St. Jude, this winter, I will stay at your house."

The initial training session for volunteers attracted nearly 100 people.

Father Lewis said he has been astounded at the generous response of parishioners and community members. Calls for bottled water, snacks and microwaveable meals soon produced a pile of food and water that threatened to overwhelm parish facilities. Agnew had to build more shelves to hold all the donations.

"I believe it pleases our Blessed Mother greatly that we are able to see her son in his most distressed disguise of the homeless, outcast and poor," Father Lewis said.

"God called me to it," Agnew said. "I got into this because I felt called to the ministry."