Not far from trendy Queen Street West, where clothes, style and looks are seen to be the substance of who people are, is Evangel Hall.
A ministry of the Presbyterian Church in Canada celebrating its centennial in 2013, Evangel Hall is a place of hope where the individual’s heart is what matters, where someone can find understanding and strength to make a new life, where someone can find a sense of belonging.
It’s a community of compassion.
Evangel Hall is where Mike Dapic has been coming for 20 years. It was where he began his new journey and he finds himself coming back for support during the rough patches and slippery slopes of life, in an era of government social service cutbacks.
“There’s stability here. People are comfortable and safe. It’s one of the few places I go to,” said Dapic, who ventured in initially because he needed help finding a place to live. He would come for a hot meal, a shower and encouragement.
“I’ve dug myself out of the hole many times. A person has to keep an open mind. Otherwise, you’ll be closed off from the help that’s available. It’s a great place, man. You have to develop the tools to get out of the hole.”
And that’s exactly why Presbyterian minister Rev. R.J. Koffend set up Evangel Hall Mission in 1913.
It began as a place to serve the marginalized, the struggling and the at-risk people who live in downtown Toronto; many of whom were immigrants at the time.
“Our focus is creating a community. This is a place where you can belong, be at home, be accepted for who you are,” said executive director Joseph Taylor.
“No matter where you came from or what you’ve done, come in and be a part of our community.”
Many congregations support the mission that proclaims the hope that Jesus Christ offers in a fashionable, artsy district.
Taylor and his staff and 1,500 volunteers help each and every person become the best they can be through a variety of programs in which they meet people one-on-one. They ease people’s burdens—which can be heavy when you walk the streets feeling hopeless.
Beyond the better-known programs like Out of the Cold and the drop-in centre, there are others that play just as significant a role in the lives of those they serve—like the high school homework club, groups for preteen boys and girls, a breakfast club and social groups for men and women.
There are the medical and dental clinics. There’s the clothing bank and the voluntary financial trusteeship program, which helps people manage their money so they can make ends meet.
There’s also a community garden, a sixth floor patio that offers a view of the skyline and a community kitchen in which people learn to cook on a budget.
There’s the Spirit Circle, a small group that encourages understanding, friendship and forgiveness between aboriginal and non-aboriginal people through drumming, storytelling and sharing. The sense of community grows beyond the friendships in the group to nature and creation.
Dapic knows that while his basic needs can be met as soon as he approaches the door—starting with the warm welcome, the food, the clothing, the medical help and an array of personal support programs—he ultimately needs to take responsibility. He doesn’t want a handout. He looks for encouragement and guidance.
“You have to do the legwork to move forward. It’s a hard life,” he said.
For some, the first step is to get off the street.
Located right beside the Factory Theatre is the relatively tall Evangel Hall. There are two doors: one adjacent to a sheltered patio area for the drop-in centre and another that’s the private residence for those who live in the 84 rent-geared-to-income units.
It’s like any other apartment building—except you’re likely to get a warm welcome from someone coming or going and who is quick to testify about the difference mission staff make.
“We have about 110 people who live in the building. All were previously homeless or very much as risk of being homeless,” explained Taylor.
“These people have had a diagnosis of schizophrenia, bipolar disorder or clinical depression. It’s a real struggle. Most of those individuals wouldn’t be able to secure competitive employment and would be reduced to being on Ontario Works or the Ontario Disability Support Program.”
For too many others, there’s not enough housing and not a chance to make it into one of EHM’s units.
They turn to the housing market. The math of making ends meet is startling. Ideally, 30 per cent of one’s income should be spent on housing, Taylor explained.
For an ODSP recipient, that translates to $575 per month, which doesn’t go far in any city, let alone Toronto. For an apartment, $1,000 per month isn’t uncommon. Then add in heat and water, and items like clothing, food and transit tickets become frills.
“They have to beg for everything else. That’s where Evangel Hall Mission comes in,” said Taylor. “It’s not a sad story. We work very hard to create a community where people feel like they belong. That’s what matters.”
Putting a coat on someone who doesn’t have one seems so basic. But surprisingly, most social service agencies don’t give away clothes; they ask people to pay token amounts for clothing. Evangel Hall is one of only two in Toronto that provide free clothes.
“If you’re on welfare and you’re having to beg for your food, what’s the point of asking you to give 25 cents or 50 cents for your shirt?” said Taylor, who added EHM gave away 15,000 pounds of clothing last year.
Evangel Hall also offers free use of its laundry facilities for those who drop in.
As well as providing the shirt on their backs, EHM helps people manage the money in their pocket. Staff will make it go further and make sure the rent gets paid. Everything else can be found at the mission, which serves more than 100,000 meals each year.
About 200 people visit the drop-in centre each day.
Others will come for medical support, dental clinics or for after-school help or to meet up with friends in a fellowship group. Spiritual and emotional comfort are served in all of them, along with encouragement to keep on the journey.
Even kids can feel it’s hopeless, but Taylor knows the difference staff and volunteers make. He knows the challenges the downtown folk face.
“People will say you’re successful because you work hard. But you can take kids from an inner city neighbourhood and take them to a suburban area and they will perform as well as the kids from that neighbourhood. The reverse is also true: take kids to an area where there is violence and drugs and they will perform as poorly as the kids there. We like to believe (success) is because I’m good or talented,” he said, but that is a delusion.
Evangel Hall gives not just hope to those kids and teens. It gives them the support they need to take advantage of opportunities and to succeed.
“We had Henry and his mom. They came for a horrible health issue.” Taylor recalled the family that had been referred by the Hospital for Sick Children. “He’s finished high school now and has received a scholarship to go to college.”
Development officer Ann-Marie Morris is reminded several times each day of the difference the mission makes in people’s lives.
“These people really have the will to live and the strength to do better. Hopefully they find that here,” she said.
Fifteen to 20 per cent of the residents are working or retraining, and they go on to become independent.
“If you spend a year on the streets, your chances of escaping that are very, very poor,” Taylor noted.
At the same time the economy soured and more people turned to life on the streets, the City of Toronto reduced services for the poor and at risk.
The charitable sector struggles to make ends meet as 90 per cent of donations made in Canada each year go to hospitals or universities, Morris explained.
The time many mission volunteers give is invaluable. The crew includes seven dentists, eight hygienists, a dental assistant and a denturist.
Taylor recalled the joy expressed in the smile of the dental clinic’s first patient.
“The very first person who came to the clinic was receiving welfare. He called and called and called. He went to the dentist and was told all they would do is pull his teeth. He said, ‘I have four or five that need to be fixed.'”
And they were.
“He had a big smile and he started to cry. He said people who are paid will pull my teeth, but people who are volunteers want to save them. What’s wrong with this picture?”
Ontario Works recipients often only get their teeth pulled, Taylor added, and some dentists will not take on Ontario Works patients because of the rates they are paid. Last year, 1,100 people came to the dental clinic.
“A lot of the people who come to a hygiene appointment had never had a hygiene appointment in their life. We discover oral cancer.”
At the clinic, 30 per cent of patients hadn’t seen a dentist in five years and another 35 per cent had seen a dentist only once in the past five.
Other areas the poor often neglect are their backs and their feet. In a private room beside the main drop-in centre are a male nurse and a registered massage therapist, Tom LaFrance. The two work to help ease the pain and stress the poor endure walking the streets for hours each day.
The nurse helps with foot care. He’ll cut toenails and buff sore, calloused feet.
LaFrance, formerly a Sunday dinner volunteer, offers a listening ear and a massage.
“When you see someone feeling more relaxed or see some of their pain has gone, that is really satisfying for me,” he said. “If they’re carrying a backpack, their shoulders or back are often sore. Part of it is just a hand on the shoulder, that healing touch.”
