Daughter Katy twenty-five years ago in Pre-K declared with the enthusiasm of a four-year old whose every word shares wonder that on a field trip “they took us to CHiPS!”
Like Lewis and Clark who in 1804 at President Jefferson’s behest explored past the new nation’s frontier, Katy’s class ventured five blocks west, from P.S. 372, The Children’s School on Brooklyn’s Carroll Street to a nondescript storefront where inside magic ensued as volunteers. then as now, prepared hot, nutritious, free meals for 300 people who each day count on their service. “CHiPS” (Community Help in Park Slope), has fed the hungry and housed homeless mothers with infants in its shelter upstairs since 1971. How often I’d passed by unknowing!
Katy’s vivid accounts of her hosts’ culinary prowess and compassion made me vow I’d one day work there but household and career duties delayed me. I tried for several years to lend a hand at Thanksgiving or Christmas but CHiPS required a long-term commitment. Yet I meant my pledge and joined Brother Thomas Barton’s earliest volunteer orientation when I retired from teaching in June. In a small above-pantry living room for 12 cramped, cozy listeners, Brother Tom, of the Franciscan Order that emulates Christ’s teachings, sketched a brief program history, offered a tour of the premises, and perhaps gauged our sincerity.
I instantly filled out and returned the digital application that came five days later, then — heard nothing as I called, emailed and waited, till a terse online note announced that “You can come Wednesday from 9 to 2.” I’ll do whatever I’m told, I decided. I didn’t identify as a cook though like Sharon I fixed meals at home.
Since October I’ve learned the routines, largely from Eddie and Max, and found a niche in the team. I feel joy as I cross the threshold each Wednesday, no matter what’s on or off in my life, CHiPS for me a big deal though a mere drop in context. “There were 25 million visits to soup kitchens and food pantries in New York City last year,” City Harvest reports, “more than the number of attendees at all NFL games across the country combined.” Their average ticket price of $112 (according to TicketCity.com) could be better spent!
Tzedakah , an ethical obligation in my Jewish tradition, transcends the concept of charity, a spontaneous goodwill act that aids the donor’s ego more than the recipient’s plight. I’m no more and no less than aware and involved at CHiPS, but the late Nobel Peace Prize laureate Elie Wiesel testified to the value in “witness,” to preserve memory while opposing indifference. A World Trade Center commuter emerged from, then vanished in a 5 pm crowd heading home, in between silently filling an unknowing homeless man’s hand with ten dollars. A flower vendor sold someone roses, then sought the bouquet’s return; “May I make it nice?”, he asked, adding ribbons. All actions count.
I hang up my jacket, don a hat I bought at my Bangla ex-student’s newsstand and tie on a green apron as I enter the kitchen. “Where’s the party?” I cry as I find a sharp knife and start chopping potatoes that eighty-nine year old Barbara brings before I arrive. I embark with our crew on God’s work , which "on Earth must truly be our own,” as John Kennedy’s Inaugural Address concluded. Maxine’s gospel songs, delivered in lilting Caribbean tones, rekindle that knowledge when something distracts me. Steve’s doo-wop ballads or good-natured jokes bring smiles at work if spirits sag. Joe, a Rangers fan, talks of local hockey or his Florida vacation while parting meat from bone for soup — in simmering vats that warm us against winter chill or the enormous, timed kitchen fan.
Alex, from Switzerland, like Brother Tom is a priest but it’s not a requirement. We’re a microcosm of the world’s diversity with everyone welcome in ours. Most of us have been teachers with difference a norm. A Worcester, Massachusetts academy sent teenagers to set out the trays James had made ready for the guests whom John would guide through aisles to red stools at which they lunch beneath portraits of the Mahatma, Gandhi, and the Catholic Worker’s Dorothy Day. A Worcester, Massachusetts academy’s students spent the community service part of their sightseeing city tour at CHiPS. Brooklyn’s Hannah Senesh Community Day School brought children to see us. National Grid staff members devoted a full day to helping us cook, serve and clean. Ann and I trade Penn State tales as we wash or dry dishes in turn; Ann’s a ‘63 alumna, my son Sam a June ‘19 graduate.
As I slice celery, carve green or red peppers (trying to copy ways Joy, a professional chef/volunteer models with ease), sweep floors, wash dishes, serve diners or refill their bread baskets or coffee pitchers, I’m grateful for a direct impact that one at a time helps many. Announcing “beautiful salad for beautiful people!” with what Mary’s made, urging our largely male clientele to accept healthy greens, it strikes me that perhaps no one has ever before called them beautiful.
“God bless you!”, “Keep being a free person!” “It’s clear that you worship the most high!” they say as Nell or Casey cry “Of course!” as they ladle out hearty soup seconds. Guests’ words give back so much for their receipt of so little for withstanding class and race issues outside. My injunction to “have a good day” as they bus trays at the end prompts thoughts that their highlight may lie in what’s already happened at CHiPS.
Pablo Picasso’s “Guernica” (1937) condemns the Nazi bombing practice on a Basque town during the Spanish Civil War. The painting, bereft of color, builds tension as it confronts us with suffering. Do we turn our heads or explore the details? Does the artist’s depiction of individuals prick conscience more than would statistics or maps of the carnage? Will we later apply our impressions, as, for example, when someone seeks money for food on the subway? An F train rider stared at the window, kept hands in pockets, yet smiled at me when I gave something to someone I called brother as I asked for his name. I push past my comfort zone as I ponder these issues.
“Every time a man stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice,” Senator Robert F. Kennedy said in 1966 in South Africa, “he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope, and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring, those ripples build a current that can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance.”
CHiPS today will in its soup kitchen and shelter make ripples.
How about you?
See Chipsonline.org to donate, volunteer or for more information. Thanks!
Noble works have large effects behind this mural’s wall. A residence for single mothers with infants occupies the floor above the soup kitchen.