Serving Grace with a Smile
United Church of Christ
Stillspeaking Magazine
Lee Reiner’s faith was up against it.
“I said, ‘Are you kidding? This will never work.’”
Now immersed in what-was-I-thinking mode, Lee shakes her head. A self-deprecating laugh and shrug of the shoulders precede her thank-God-I-was-wrong proclamation.
“Six-and-a-half years later, it’s still working!” says Lee.
“It” is The Largest Table — the come-one-come-all community lunch given every Wednesday by dozens of volunteers at St. John’s UCC in downtown Columbus, Ohio. What began as a six-week offering during Lent 2004 has morphed into a weekly gathering of 200-300 people — or more.
The standing invitation to come to the Table is wide open: it goes to homeless persons, government workers, church members and local merchants alike. All are welcome to gather in the church in the middle of the day, in the middle of the week, in the middle of the city for a brief worship service and a hot, nourishing meal in the Fellowship Hall.
And when program organizers found themselves in the middle of a mess in the middle of the month in the middle of the summer, The Largest Table proved as portable as it is inviting.
Flexibility in the face of adversity
“The Tuesday cooking team was making sandwiches and potato salad,” explains cook coordinator Joan Stromeier of that unlucky July 13. “They looked down at the drain in the kitchen floor and noticed a backup of water — only it turned out not to be water.”
The time-worn pipe beneath the kitchen and the fellowship hall was oozing sewage. The drain-service company arrived late that afternoon, and professional cleaners were on the job at 9 the next morning. “They promised to have a pathway to the refrigerator where the sandwiches and potato salad were,” says Joan.
Minus beverages, but in time for the day’s meal, the Table was set outside in the courtyard nestled between the church and the parking garage next door. “Oh, my, it was bedlam,” says Lee. “But we managed.” Adds Joan, “People either stood or sat along the raised stone border along the sidewalk. People didn’t complain at all.”
Two Wednesdays later, a changeable weather forecast toyed with organizers’ plans — if not their patience. “We were prepared to serve in the hallway because we had heard rain was in the forecast,” says Joan. “But then this morning we heard that the rain was going to be later in the day, so we decided to serve outside. We’ve learned to be very flexible.”
With hot meals on hold, this particular day’s blessing includes more than 230 ham-and-cheese sandwiches, potato chips, bananas, M&M cookies and a 5-foot-high pile of bottled water. Between the church, local merchants and area restaurants, the bases are covered.
Lee’s vision — notably her ability to see the bright side — is expansive as well. “Well, it’s simpler today,” she says, “because we don’t have pots and pans on the stove, keeping an eye on how long it will take to cook this and that.” She smiles at Joan. “Oh, and my husband, Bill, always mops the kitchen floor. He won’t have to do that for awhile!”
Brief worship, practical message
Minutes before the noontime worship service is to begin, those opting not to take part in it begin to form the food line in the courtyard. Rick Studer — breaking away from his full-time vocation in development and communications for a local nonprofit for children’s education — hustles to complete worship preparation. Taking time to greet first-time visitors along the way, Rick says he leads the Wednesday service “once or twice a month.”
The focus of today’s 17-minute message: listening. “When you go to Jesus, you are counting on him to do what?” Studer asks. “Listen,” worshipers respond. “Absolutely,” says Rick. “The ultimate listener of all time is Jesus, so … we are in good shape.”
Moments after serving Communion and concluding the service, Rick stresses the simplicity of his message. “I think in the few minutes we have, we have to zero in on one thing that’s going to be memorable and really hit people’s lives. This isn’t very traditional — but it isn’t radically wild, either.”
A Table of transformation
Pardon Kathy Dwyer, senior pastor at St. John’s, if she sounds reflective. After nine years at St. John’s, she is about to become senior pastor at Rock Spring Congregational UCC in Arlington, Va. “Over the years, it’s been fascinating to watch how some people come to The Largest Table as guests, then gradually start volunteering in the kitchen and serving drinks.”
Pastor Kathy says the impetus to set the Table came from Nancy Raabe, who sang in the St. John’s choir and once belonged to a church in Birmingham, Ala., that offered a table of its own. “I thought it was a great idea to bring people into a worship environment during their workweek,” says Nancy. “It’s about overcoming barriers of race, socioeconomic status, class, sexuality and everything else.”
Freewill offerings and donations from the Mid-Ohio Foodbank and statewide merchants fund the project, with St. John’s “Body and Soul” fundraiser proving successful over the years.
“Several of our volunteers will describe how they were initially hesitant to become engaged with The Largest Table,” says Kathy. “Their involvement has not only been positive but has really helped them erase a lot of fear about people who might be different than themselves.”
Jamie Isom, a retired freight handler and longtime Table volunteer, says the biggest lesson he has learned from the experience is that “(homeless persons) are people, too. I was born a hermaphrodite, born with two sets of everything, male and female parts. People here treat me like everyone else.”
A former Episcopalian and Catholic, Jamie is in charge of preparing beverages at the Table. “I make between 10 and 15 gallons every Wednesday, including that famous St. John’s lemonade,” she says with a hearty laugh.
The feeling that feeding can give
Joan’s family has attended St. John’s for generations, though she and her husband are only children. She says she’d never cooked for more than 10 people at a time. Then Pastor Kathy Dwyer called.
“It was about five months after my husband passed away, and Pastor Kathy asked me to prepare a Lenten meal for about 50 people. We decided to have chili. Kathy said we don’t know how many, maybe we better have chili for 100. I said, ‘I can do that — with a little help.’”
Joan credits Mary Bishop with initial kitchen preparations for the Table. Fellow cooking team leaders Kathy Dwyer, Suzanne Kull and Nancy Dietz and an energetic corps of volunteers are the constants in the equation, says Joan; the variable is how many guests to expect.
“We now have 60-80 in worship and serve about 200-300 at lunch,” says Kathy, adding that attendance is greater near the end of the month, when government-issued checks have run out for many. “At the beginning, when numbers were smaller, people who participated represented more diversity. We had architects, county government workers and members of Congress sharing a meal with street people.”
Nancy Dietz, a 20-year member at St. John’s, says cooking for many — and the joys it brings — come naturally to her. “I grew up in a household with lots of brothers and sisters. It’s really enjoyable when somebody comes through the line here and says, ‘God bless you for preparing the meal.’” She pauses, looks down, away and back up. “There’s just nothing like that,” she says softly.
Angels in their midst
With more than 230 served, the early-afternoon air begins to hang heavy with humidity. Slivers of sunlight slice between branches of the hearty river birch tree in the courtyard, bouncing off Lee and Joan as they count local blessings brought to the Table: by Wellington School, Dublin (Ohio) Community UCC, Trinity Lutheran Seminary, Open Shelter, Inc., Crossroads Special Improvement District, Harvest Support and Mt. Carmel Hospital.
At a folding table at the base of the tree, Lisa Knoblauch invites everyone to sign a farewell tablecloth for Pastor Kathy. In a spontaneous gesture of generosity, the parking garage attendant walks over, extends a hand and chips in five dollars. “Would you like to sign the tablecloth?” Lisa asks. “I’ve only been here one time,” the attendant says, “she wouldn’t know me.” Lisa encourages him to sign anyway. He does.
His is not the only gift from the garage: A departing motorist rolls down her window, motions to the group and waves a $5 bill. “I don’t know who you folks are, but God bless you for what you’re doing,” she says.
As tear-down and cleanup begins, 16-year-old Alex Knoblauch scours the courtyard for litter. He finds little; guests have been equal parts grateful and tidy. “I just go around and do what they tell me to do,” he says. “If they need me to be somewhere, I’m there.”
Jamie, happy to be “trying to do God’s work,” is one of the last to leave. “With the UCC and The Largest Table, there’s not a lot of pomp and circumstance. We get down to the meat of why we go to church. No one is excluded.”