FATHER RUBY
Honolulu, Hawaii
1985
In my seven years living homeless on the island of Oahu, this was the only church that I knew of that offered coffee and donuts before its service. The Episcopal diocese church. Another anomaly was that the service was held early, 8am each Sunday, which is much earlier than most churches. It was held at a magnificent stone cathedral with ceilings so high and walls so thick that it reminded me of a castle, only in miniature. The beautiful cathedral was surrounded by lovely statues flanking great metal doors that opened wide to greet the parishioners. But that was not where the service with the coffee and donuts was held; that was not where Father Ruby preached. He gave his sermon in a small wing of the complex, off to the far right. It was no less beautiful than the rest of the cathedral, and it was surrounded by trees, and one statue, of Mary. Also, this service was Episcopalian.
Raised protestant, I still don’t know the difference between Catholic and Episcopalian. But I didn’t go to that church to learn, and neither did the majority of the people who showed up at this place, so early in the morning. If you were to drive by at 7:45 you would see a line of people, clearly homeless by their dirty appearance (staying clean while living outside is impossible). You might even notice that it is almost always the same people, because it is not everyday that someone gives you donuts and coffee for free, and you don’t forget a thing like that. Now, I will admit, most of the people who came for this wonderfulness did not stay for the service, though they were always lovingly invited to do so. But I did. I stayed for Father Ruby.
I am not sure where he was from; his accent was very thick, maybe Spain, maybe Portugal. He was small, and soft-spoken and he smiled all the time. He was the one who provided the coffee and donuts and had secured this unused wing of the church for us. It was him who agreed to hold the service two hours before the main church, not just so that the congregation would not have to see homeless people, but also so that we could have some dignity within our own group.The homeless know that they are being judged when people look at them. Father Ruby knew who he was working with.
Here is an example of a sermon he often gave:
“Jesus had no home. Once he left his family he never had a home again. He knew what it was like to have the ground for his bed, and he knew what it was like to own no food. I have always had a bed to sleep in, every day of my life, and I have always owned food that I could eat at any time I wish. I am here to tell you now, you are more like Jesus than I am.” And another of his sermons, aimed at the addicts:
“When you go into the world today and you want to drink the beer, buy only the one beer, not the whole six-pack. And when you want to smoke the pakalolo (marijuana), buy the one joint, not the whole bag. And when you sleep, be sure you are safe first.” I won’t lie, those donuts were often the high light of my week, but honestly, sitting for an hour in that gorgeous building that was created for the love of God, and hearing Father Ruby talk to us…to us…was amazing.
Father Ruby knew us well, and while I never converted, I loved him for knowing us.
I Don't Expect You To Believe Me 