Guest Blog and Photos By Lizzie Falconer
We were packed into the pews like sardines. The church ceilings stood above us, and the heat of the San Francisco morning rose like the gospel hymns of the choir. The older African American reverend stood in front of the crowd, speaking with exclamations and
gesticulations as the choir swayed behind him. In the middle of his sermon, a woman walked up to him, whispered discreetly in his ear, and handed him a torn piece of paper.
“Oh well,” he muttered, grabbing his glasses and pushing them lightly to his face. “Let’s see what this is about…” He lifted the paper and read:
“Democrats have voted 220…”
The church erupted. Absolutely exploded. Screams. Applause. Yelps of “amen” and “hallelujah”. People began crying, hands were raised to the ceiling. “Miracle” and “blessing” were heard intermingled with the sobs of overcome churchgoers. Without evening finishing the sentence, the Glide Memorial Church knew that health care reform had passed.
The church sits like a lighthouse at the corner of Ellis and Taylor in the Tenderloin district of San Francisco. The Tenderloin is the anti-tourist destination, boasting the city’s highest rates in crime, poverty, HIV/AIDS infection, drug use and homelessness. But despite all this, our ragtag group of 12 had made its way into San Francisco’s version of Hell to see how we could help.
Glide is at the forefront of social justice in San Francisco. Originally the church started in
1963 when the young reverend Cecil Williams walked into the predominantly upper class white church and announced everyone should be allowed to worship. While Middle America moved toward the right, Glide chopped its conservative roots and grew into a hub of counterculture activity. It was a fundamental part of the radicalization of San Francisco in the 60’s and 70’s, becoming a gathering place for activists and traditionally religiously marginalized groups like addicts, gays, hippies and the homeless. Cecil and his community held marches, listened to the Black Panthers and held counseling sessions after the murder of Harvey Milk. Today, Glide is a nonprofit that raises $18 million a year for over 90 programs designed to lift people out of poverty. This includes the three hot meals a day all year that the church serves to the homeless population of the Tenderloin.
It was a moment in history and I was blessed to be there to witness it. Whether you agree or disagree with health care reform, to these people this bill is nothing but monumental. Glide is a place that fights every single day to provide services to people that the government does not, a place based on the same type of inclusiveness that the health care reform bill is about. So, at that moment, in that place, and many other across the country, the disenfranchised won a big one.
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