Deborah Watman

Leroy, a forty-year-old soup kitchen guest simply says, “ I was hungry, somebody told me about this place, and I came. ” Erin was “rejected, and lonely” and came because she was hungry and “the food here is great. ” Michael is a former alcoholic and homeless, Susan is an unemployed single mother of five, and Walter is a poet. All of them, have walked down 9th avenue in the Chelsea Area, and stop to wait on the long line of people eager to enter the Holy Apostles Church. They are not looking to pray or connect spiritually. Leroy, Erin, Michael and Susan probably do not believe in the same religion or God. But as they wait on this long line, all of their stomachs would be rumbling. They are all hungry and looking forward to the hot meal that is waiting on the other side of those heavy doors.

The pews have all been removed and folding tables and chairs occupy the large empty space. Being the largest feeding program in New York City, The Holy Apostles Soup Kitchen needs all the space it can get to serve over 1,200 people. The homepage of their website states their -‘mission is to feed the hungry, comfort the afflicted, seek justice for the homeless, and provide a sense of hope and opportunity to those in need.’ Certainly, they continue to live up to their mission statement, and while they may not be able to provide all that is necessary for the homeless, the beneficiaries and volunteers will agree that they live up to their mission statement.

After recognizing that an increasing amount of homeless people were living in the Chelsea neighborhood, and knocking on the church door for some support or warmth, Holy Apostles Church felt that something needed to be done. On October 22, 1982, the church officially opened their soup kitchen doors and already served its first 35 meals to the homeless people congregating in the streets. Now 27 years later the soup kitchen is still up and running and serving more meals than ever before. Open on holidays, through blizzards, and blackouts, the soup kitchen prides themselves on never missing a day. They welcome everyone, no questions asked, and provide enough food to help thousands survive. Read more…

On the corner of 8th avenue and 42nd street, the familiar sound of coins tinkling against a tin can are heard. The white, middle aged smiling man holding this can is named Al. He is homeless and asks all who pass by for help. Al is happy to talk and explain his living situation. He has not had a permanent residence for ten years, but still, “I am not homeless” is what he will tell you. The sleepless streets of New York City are his home, the people who pass by and share those streets are his neighbors. “You are all my community,” he says.

Wearing jeans, a jacket and a baseball cap, Al does not stand out, and if it weren’t for the can, he would not be immediately pegged as a poor homeless guy on the street. He speaks clearly and passionately about the homeless situation in NYC and states how important it is for people to reach out and volunteer. Al has an interesting idea; he says that it is most important that the homeless people volunteer. They should work at the soup kitchens that they benefit from, or advocate on behalf of themselves. Al says how important it is to educate people about the homeless situation, which he does so himself by blogging on his computer. Read more…