I recently began volunteering for Samaritan Ministry of Greater Washington. Samaritan was founded by a group of Washington, D.C.-area Episcopal churches, and its mission is connecting “neighbors who face poverty, homelessness, or other debilitating challenges with partner leaders, donors, volunteers, and staff to improve lives one next step and one neighbor at a time.”
What that means is Samaritan offers job readiness training and GED preparation, as well as one-to-one help creating resumes and job counseling for people whose lives have been interrupted by incarceration or other difficulties.
I learned about Samaritan at a recent breakfast where the keynote speaker was the Rt. Rev. Mariann Budde. Budde is the bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Washington. Yes, the very same Budde who preached kindness and mercy to President Donald Trump during the post-inaugural prayer service at Washington National Cathedral. Budde’s words then (as now) raised spirits around the world. To Bishop Budde’s surprise, her words raised money too. Dozens of complete strangers sent her checks in thanks for her courageous words. Budde donated the unasked-for funds to Samaritan Ministry, so donors’ generosity is going far.
Bishop Budde is an impressive speaker. But her inspiring words at the breakfast were matched by those of a Samaritan program participant. Timidly at first, and then with passion, she described Samaritan’s unwavering support while she —with ups and downs — got herself an education and a solid job.
Like the gifts to Budde, Samaritan’s support for her multiplied in terms of what she carried forward. This woman spread her skills and resilience to her children, grandchildren, and community, ad infinitum.
After completing interviews and an orientation, I began working at Samaritan’s front desk in Anacostia. I welcome participants, give them their mail, and direct them to the professionals. In addition, I manage the Clothes Closet, which houses the donated clothing participants can use for their new lives.
Some thoughts from the front desk:
Anyone who says people who use Medicaid or SNAP should just pull themselves up by their bootstraps needs to sit at Samaritan’s front desk with me. First, you can’t pull yourself up without a mailing address, which Samaritan can supply. An address is not a given if you have been incarcerated, your neighbors vandalize your mailbox, or mental health issues complicate your life.
Second, pulling oneself up requires the help of people who can understand both complicated lives and the services that can help. And navigating the myriad agencies that can help — plus the rules governing them — would challenge anyone, even someone who is not uncertain or fearful.
Pulling oneself up requires the help of people who can understand both complicated lives and the services that can help.
It is fantasy to think that people like those who seek help at Samaritan are trying to game the system. I can see from the front desk how difficult it is to even understand the system, much less game it. The people I see just want what is rightfully theirs: a missed education or veterans or retirement benefits they have been too tired, too cowed, or to ill-informed to obtain alone.
Some thoughts from the Clothes Closet:
When I first saw the clothes closet it was a room piled high with bags of donated clothing. The people who blithely bought the bags’ contents and then wore them once or twice (or not at all) should have to open and sort them as I did. Perhaps then they would think about buying clothes from countries where there is no respect for labor laws or the environment. Producing these clothes may help developing economies. Donating the money spent on them would help Samaritan.
Sorting the bags of clothing produced a pile of “freebie” t-shirts, the kind that come with just about any American group activity, from political campaigns to family reunions. They had probably been worn only for the event from which they came. Again, what if money spent on these shirts had been given directly to Samaritan?
Many of the donated clothes I sorted were extra-extra-large sizes. One bag of expensive clothes of every kind in very large sizes may have been the result of new weight-loss drugs. What do these oversize clothes say about our country’s lifestyle and diet?
I also noticed the contrast between two groups of clothing.
One group had identifiable uses — e.g., skirts, blouses — and identifiable purposes, e.g., work or party. They were made of familiar fibers: silk, wool, and cotton. They held darts, seams, linings, and pockets.
The second group consisted of mysterious combinations of unknowable fibers. Was that strip of synthetic crepe with elastic an asymmetrical skirt or a one-shouldered top? Was it meant for the beach? The office? A party?
The first group tells the story of when American clothes were made by our own garment and textile industries. Life had distinct spheres and distinct clothes; gym clothes were meant for the gym and pajamas for bed. The second group speaks to fast fashion and outsourcing, and also of unsustainable fibers derived from petrochemicals. This is clothing for a society where public and private are blurred. Everything about it was driven by keeping it cheap.
From the front desk of Samaritan, I can see America in a nutshell. I see the communities and manufacturing traditions we sacrificed for cheap clothes that harm the environment and people. I see some Americans drowning in too much food, while others do not even have an address.
And I see Samaritan pitching in to help.
