Christ in Every Eye That Sees Me by Eliza Corder

When I arrived at St. Herman’s House, the first thing I encountered was an inebriated homeless woman. The second thing I encountered was the Theotokos.

I’ll explain.

I reached Cleveland after an eight-hour drive, parked in front of St. Herman’s House—the men’s shelter where I would spend the rest of my summer working—and walked up to the gate.

On the front porch stood my soon-to-be boss and soon-to-be coworker. Between us, just inside the gate, swayed a woman in her mid-fifties. I could tell just by looking at her face she’d had a hard life, and I could tell by the way she moved she was under the influence—probably of a less than legitimate substance.

I’ll admit I was startled. Even more so when she asked my boss for a cigarette.

Even as this scene unfolded, I glanced to the right and noticed St. Herman’s beautiful garden and, nestled within it, an icon of the Theotokos. Her presence was as unexpected as it was familiar and a wave of comfort washed over me. I remembered then that the woman who stood before me was my sister and an image of Christ; in fact, she was the very reason I’d come to St. Herman’s to serve.

Before I had time to reflect further my boss talked the woman out of a cigarette and ushered me inside. And just like that my summer had begun, with all the chaos, joy, hard work, friendship, and memories it would bring.

Now, several weeks into my internship and with a little more time to contemplate, I realize that my first moments at St. Herman’s were a timely summation of one of my greatest challenges this summer. Every day at St. Herman’s I engage with dozens of homeless people. Sometimes the interactions go well, sometimes they go less well, and often they’re just strange—this morning, for example, someone aggressively and incoherently explained baseball to one of my fellow interns, seeming to mistake him for someone else.

It’s easy for me to see the painful outward dysfunction of the people we serve and mistake it for the people themselves. But that moment in the garden, my very first at St. Herman’s, reminded me to turn to Christ and the Theotokos and that, through their aid, I can perceive the image of God in every human person and love them as myself.

It’s hard, and I suspect I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to get it right. But if anything is worth attempting, this is. 

Stationed in Cleveland, OH with our partners at St Herman’s House in FOCUS Cleveland, Eliza Corder is a Media Intern for summer 2021. You can directly support her and our ministry work by clicking the support button below.

Leading and Learning with Generosity by Eliza Corder

When I was eighteen years old, I thru-hiked the Appalachian Trail. That adventure changed me in innumerable ways, but the most meaningful—and the most long-lasting—is my outlook on giving.

Hospitality takes on a new meaning when you are, to use a biblical term, a sojourner. For months I walked from town to town, carrying my pack on my shoulders. Unfortunately, that pack couldn’t hold everything I needed. It couldn’t contain medical care, showers, heating, laundry machines, or my transportation to grocery stores and post offices that were far off the trail. Though I had planned as best I could to meet these needs for myself, it did not change the fact that as a foot traveler with only 30 pounds of possessions, my life was inherently vulnerable to forces larger than myself. Anything from a freak thunderstorm to an unexpected road closure could undo days and weeks of careful planning.

It was from this position of profound vulnerability that I learned the meaning of generosity. Unlooked for and unsought, locals from everywhere along the trail (often referred to as “trail angels”) stepped up to take care of me and my fellow hikers. I cannot possibly recount the thousand tiny kindnesses they showed me. And likewise, I cannot explain to you how profoundly even the simplest acts of hospitality impacted me.

After one particularly bad morning, a group of trail angels took me under their wing. They gave me directions, fed me, got me to the post office where I needed to go, and introduced me to another trail angel who cooked a hot meal for me and a few other hikers. Although these all sound like small things, to me they meant the world.      

I say all this not to elaborate on my own adventures, but to illuminate this truth: the impact of kindness that seems small to us, who have more than we need, can be unfathomable to someone in want.

When I returned home to my former cushy lifestyle, I couldn’t shake the memories. After taking a brief job working with refugees, I realized that many people even in my own neighborhood are more vulnerable than I ever was on the trail. I felt a responsibility to give back, to care for my brothers and sisters just as so many people had cared for me, and to obey Christ’s injunction to be mindful of the widows and orphans.

All that brings me to the present day. My aim is to unite my desire to serve with my Orthodox faith. In service to that plan, I am interning with St Innocent Service Works, which has stationed me at a FOCUS (Fellowship of Orthodox Christians United to Serve) location in Cleveland, OH called St. Herman’s House. Fittingly, St. Herman’s works with the homeless population, feeding them and providing housing.

Christ asks us to love our neighbor, to feed, clothe, and shelter them: I humbly ask for your prayers and support as I and all my fellow interns attempt to do just that. Organizations like Project Mexico, St Innocent Service Works and FOCUS exist because of the generous support of donors and even if you’re unable to give of your time, you can also play a critical role in caring for the poor and spreading the light of Christ.

Last year was hard.

This year is new and different.

I know that with creativity and perseverance we can continue to grow, thrive, and serve.

Let’s make a difference together.

You can directly support my mission work at the button below.