When the engine of our second car almost literally blew up after midnight in the middle of a November snowstorm, I didn’t immediately recognize it as the most significant thing God had done to kick-start our ministry at Côte des Neiges, Montreal. I had left the manse in a light jacket a few hours earlier for a distress call from a hospital’s palliative care department. Walking home that night I realized I would have to start taking public transit to the church from then on, since my wife needed her car to get to work.
Looking back I realize we had already begun some of the groundwork, and had done some of the theoretical work, that would develop into the mission the church has since been doing. Côte des Neiges is in a neighbourhood of new immigrants, the working poor, struggling students and fixed pension seniors. We knew that already, in theory.
A course I had taken at Presbyterian College for my Master of Divinity degree had taught me how to do a community exegesis and map out the stats for the area surrounding the church. We did a thorough analysis of the census data. I read all the local papers. We obtained a listing of the local community groups and tracked their efforts on the web and in the news. I had been attending the city council meetings every month where I heard the concerns expressed firsthand by citizens and community organizers.
But it wasn’t until I had to stand at the bus stop and walk through the neighbourhood that all the statistics were brought into much clearer focus. You just hear and see and feel things on foot that you don’t pick up from the window of a speeding car. The 800 illegal apartments without running water in your immediate vicinity is just a cold fact, until you’ve seen one from the inside. The startling fact that there are 8,354 children under the age of 12 living below the sub-poverty line within 15 minutes of your church doesn’t become an unacceptable reality until you make a food basket delivery to a cramped one room apartment and you see the worn, narrow mattress that a single mom will share that night with a newborn and two elementary school children.
At the city council meetings, the mayor and several of the councillors and I now greet each other by first names, or with a nod to “the Reverend.” We have connected with nearby non-profits, standing with them, often defending their interests and making their needs known. We have taken public stands on challenging questions about poverty, social housing, seniors’ rights, better schools. Interestingly, there is an ongoing sense of surprise from non-church folk that I am not there to push for zoning changes or better parking for the church. The four hours I spend at the city council meetings each month and the few hours spent doing research beforehand have been one my best time investments. In many of these efforts, the way had been paved by church members who were already active as board members and volunteers for a variety of community organizations we now seek to partner with.
As we got to know our community, and the various other organizations responding to the needs, it wasn’t long before we got a sense of several ways to help. We can’t singlehandedly take on the long-term support of a refugee family, but our small size means that we can respond with targeted help more quickly than anybody else. When a family with children stepped forward with a critical need for food, even the most efficient local clinic would take 48 hours to respond. I can be at their door in less than an hour with a selection of donated non-perishables to which I add some milk, fresh fruits, veggies and assorted essentials like diapers and formula. This ongoing outreach ministry, and the help we provide to struggling families within our congregation, is funded by our members and two other neighbourhood churches that donate non-perishable items, as well as cash contributions earmarked in our offerings. I also funnel back any honoraria I receive from officiating at weddings and funerals.
As the church gets better known in the community, more and more people drop in during the week. Sometimes it’s a homeless person looking for bus fare or a sandwich and we are ready for that. With four hospitals and several clinics in our immediate vicinity, many of the people I meet at the bus stops are either patients or staff and it is not unusual that a brief conversation on a bus leads to a quick visit at the church for a word of prayer after a tough appointment or a difficult work shift.
None of the efforts I have described are tremendously costly, but most of them do require sacrifice from the congregation. The fact that our building is not used as a profit centre means we have to find other ways to balance our budget. We are frugal wherever possible, using volunteers in many roles from secretarial work to grounds keeping. Many of these come with a positive trade off however. Using volunteer musicians and choristers from within the congregation means that the people who lead us in worship are active participants in the life of the community who understand the process and are growing with us. We might not be ready for Carnegie Hall, but we are a genuinely worshipping community.
We are not a wealthy church and we serve in what has now become Montreal’s most indigent borough. Three of Canada’s 10 poorest postal code zones are within walking distance of our front door. Our congregation is composed of new immigrants, students, seniors and young families establishing themselves financially. And yet, the bulk of the cost of our ministry is covered each year by the offerings, with a little help from a modest endowment. No bazaars, bake sales or rental cheques. Once you’ve let God lead you out of your comfort zone and your guard is down, God confronts you with needs so real that it becomes personal… and it’s just impossible not to respond with all you’ve got.
