"INASMUCH AS YE HAVE DONE IT unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me" (Matt. 25:40).

This simple declaration of Jesus is in my heart always when I go to volunteer at the Soup Kitchen in Evanston, Illinois. And it has been from the beginning.

My first experience in helping out at one of these meals for hungry and homeless people occurred on one of the occasional Sunday afternoons when my church takes responsibility for the weekly meal that's provided at one of the area churches. I joined the team of volunteers and found that "doing it unto me" (which I see as "doing good to God's man") was a tangible and powerful motivation. Whether I poured drinking water or dished out casserole for people who are ordinarily rejected by society, I made a point of looking them right in the eye with tenderness and honor.

Serving in this way may seem like doing the ordinary "good works." But knowing and feeling that here, right now, I'm beholding God's man, God's idea—this is powerful stuff. I know that it's a revolutionary way of seeing others. Maybe none of these people has ever had someone know this truth about them. I feel that I'm on holy ground. People who might seem scary or repulsive are truly neither, when you know that right where a sad picture is, there is God's spiritual creation. When I feel love for them, I know the substance and dignity of the perfect man are there.

After I'd served a while, an opportunity opened us to help out occasionally at the Monday Soup Kitchen, held regularly at another church in town. Now I'm scheduling and sharing the overseeing of this weekly meal. I work shoulder to shoulder with so many wonderfully kind and unselfish people in this community who are putting out (and paying for) weekly meals for 100 people.

When I pray about homelessness and its causes, I think of something Mary Baker Eddy wrote in Science and Health: "Your influence for good depends upon the weight you throw into the right scale. The good you do and embody gives you the only power obtainable. Evil is not power. It is a mockery of strength, which erelong betrays its weakness and falls, never to rise" (p. 192). That's a powerful answer to what can seem like a big and complex problem. Insanity, addiction, sadness, sin—the whole bad story of mortality—appear to walk down the food line. But by loving each one—sometimes intuitively from a distance, sometimes with a hug, always with a quiet respect—I'm seeing "the healing of the nations," and seeing individuals make progress.

A few months after I had taken over the scheduling for the Monday Soup Kitchen, there were weeks when the atmosphere in the room was volatile, stirred, angry. Some people were rude, and occasionally fights broke out. One man just glowered at me. There were days when I left thinking it wasn't worth the effort, that it was just too hard.

I talked this over with a friend who's also a Christian Scientist, and she and I prayed about this situation. I also spoke to the church's administrators and to the local social workers who are out on the streets connecting with homeless people. Through the social workers, the local police contacted me, assuring me that at any time I could call and they'd be there in minutes if needed. Everyone wanted this program to do the job it was designed to do, to help out our fellow man.

The church administrators came up with the idea of having their custodian come regularly to the meals just to be a "presence." He's a calm, watchful, kind, and capable person, and his presence has been important. I feel, however, that the prayer that acknowledged God's gentle presence and control was the antidote to the unrest, and brought a gradual but consistent peace to the mealtimes. Through months of my offering patient kindness, the man who used to glower at me has realized that I am not an enemy. He's now happy to see me, and I am happy to see him! Even on days when we serve close to 100 people, there is still a noticeable calm.

I have been greatly deepened and enriched by being part of this activity. I love the people we serve. They don't have to do anything to deserve being loved—because God's love is always unconditional and impartial.

CLAIRE FISHER
PARK RIDGE, ILLINOIS