Tenting by necessity

It's your typical Monday, and a group of 25 men and women have just finished off a healthy portion of some home-made pasta.

The group joins hands for a post-meal prayer, and it all seems so natural that you almost forget your surroundings.

But then a car horn blasts and you are back to reality. The group is standing on a gravel service road just off 15-501, in front of the Walmart at New Hope Commons shopping center.

Many of the men have long beards, most are missing teeth, and under their hoods or ski caps are faces weathered in a way that can only achieved by the elements and a tough life.

After prayer they are going back to the grind-which for most gathered here means standing in the median and holding a sign that features some variation of "Homeless and hungry. Need a little help. God Bless."

This gathering is the core of Open Table Ministries, an outreach program for the homeless and the brainchild of 2006 Divinity School graduate David Peeler.

On a Monday in February, Peeler is leading the prayer, and he asks the circle of volunteers and vagabonds what they're praying for.

"For everyone in the family," says Ralph, a Durham native who has been on the streets for three years and who asked that real names of the homeless not be used.

"Here I was learning in my classes about the need to minister to the poor, and I had no contact with the folks I was being taught to care for," he says. "It got to the point where I couldn't ignore that anymore."

There has been rapid development along the section of 15-501 just before it meets Interstate 40 in the last few years. Still, a significant population of homeless people-no one can or will say exactly how many-live in the woods surrounding the many shopping centers.

Many homeless people prefer the tents and temporary dwellings to Durham's downtown homeless shelters, largely because of the crime and violence from other homeless at the shelters. The few possessions with which they enter the shelters are often stolen within a few days.

"One man told me he'd rather be in jail than in a shelter," says Douglas Warner, the pastor of the Rougemont Charge of the United Methodist Church.

Instead, many of the homeless cluster together in tent cities and abandoned buildings. Peeler says that now, after nearly three years of reaching out to the groups, the volunteers can go beyond handouts and work toward rebuilding the individual lives. The ministry has helped three people find apartments and are working toward that kind of success with others.

"We're finally at the point where we can talk about things like addiction," Peeler says. "This isn't a mission trip. It's building sustained relationships."

As part of those relationships, the volunteers have worked as legal and medical advocates for the homeless. Many homeless people have trouble getting disability payments or Medicaid, a problem that is exacerbated by the fact that many have serious health problems.

Ralph has emphysema, chronic knee problems and mental health issues and says he takes 10 pills every morning and seven more every night. Sensing disbelief at this proclamation, he quickly asks, "Do you want to see?"

He unzips his backpack and pulls out a large Ziploc bag completely filled with inhalers and prescription medications. He says the medicine inside is worth over $1000. After food, most of the money he collects goes toward these medications, but, as he says, "I'd die without them."

Todd, who has spots on his neck that look terribly red and itchy, comes over after the meal and talks to Peeler about his psoriasis treatments at the UNC hospital. Peeler recalls that the first summer of the program, the skin on Todd's feet split open so badly that he had to hold it together with duct tape.

Peeler and the other volunteers promptly took Todd to the hospital. Later, they went to court with him to help him get on full disability.

The ministry also pays for outdoor necessities like long underwear, boots and propane for the stove one group has. And recently, when the temperature dipped into the low teens, the volunteers came out and put 12 men up in three rooms at the local Red Roof Inn.

While the men say they are grateful for the ministry's help, they maintain that they don't ask for any more than they need to survive-from the churches or the drivers-by-and resent their depiction as lazy beggars.

"I hate the stereotypes about us. I was a Navy SEAL for 12 years and a carpenter," says a man everyone just calls Bulldog. "I've got eight screws in my hip, so I just can't do the work I used to.

"Either you want to help us or you don't. If they've got any God in their heart, they'll give some help, but I don't hold it against 'em if they don't."

Most of the drivers who don't look twice at the orange-vested panhandlers cite the old adage about fueling their drinking and drugs. Indeed, alcohol is definitely a major part of life on the streets, evidenced by Ralph's altruistic rule of thumb: "If somebody's hungry, you give them some food. If somebody's sick, you get them a beer."

Peeler and the volunteers, however, take an approach that involves first finding individuals housing, and then focusing on promoting a clean and sober lifestyle, which can be nearly impossible to maintain on the streets.

"The biggest obstacle is that treatment options for people with problems with addiction and no health insurance are just inadequate," Peeler says. "The rehab that we see celebrities go to is incredibly expensive. So that kind of rehab is not an option."

The roadblocks can seem daunting, but the volunteers take refuge in the progress they see. The homeless, who have the reputation of inter-violence, have created a community, which even includes some ribbing that may seem out of place just about anywhere else.

"Some of the older guys get food stamps," Bulldog says, nodding in the direction of 58-year old Steve, 10 years his elder, who flips him the bird.

"But then you got [Ralph] here," says Steve, "and he takes more pills in a day than the pharmacy's got."

That community now includes the volunteers-Peeler and his wife Julie, Rachel Billups, an associate pastor at Duke's Chapel Methodist Church who graduated from the Div school in December, and two Divinity School interns. The groups have become so close that the volunteers have even invited some of the homeless men to their Divinity School convocations.

"I've been to three graduations at Duke," says Bulldog.

Steve pipes back, "Yeah, and he has worn the same shirt to every one."