Austin Lewter/Jefferson Jimplecute
I spent the latter half of last week in our nation’s capital.
I had never been to Washington, D.C., so when the opportunity arose to escort a group of college journalists to a conference there, I jumped at it.
We spent three days learning best practices from other professionals in our field.
We heard keynote speeches from famous journalists.
We saw the sights— albeit not all the sights. You could spend a month in that city and not see all the sights.
We got an insider tour of the Pentagon from an alumni who works there.
We rode the Metro.
We ate in downtown restaurants.
We shopped at Kramer’s bookstore in DuPont Circle.
We walked more than 30 miles over the course of three days.
We bought expensive souvenirs.
And I came home and told Jennifer we need to go back soon and take the kids.
It’s a different type of city. Different than Dallas and certainly different than New York.
It is a city full of historic buildings and modern office complexes meshed together on one canvas.
There is a Chipotle a few doors down from the building where Abraham Lincoln died.
The Washington Wizards play basketball just a few blocks from the National Portrait Gallery which is housed in the Old Patent Office— a Greek Revival structure built in 1836.
Historic churches casts shadows upon Starbucks and convivence stores.
The coexistence of the new and the old is striking but it is not the only dichotomy I observed in our capital city.
The New York Avenue Presbyterian Church was formed in 1859, but it traces its roots back to 1803.
It grew out of two other congregations and began meeting in 1820 on its current site.
It is located at the intersection of 13th Street and New York Avenue in downtown Washington D.C. right across from a McDonalds.
Several U.S. Presidents have worshipped there over the years.
Adams and Jackson were regulars.
Despite never joining the church, President Lincoln worshiped there regularly during the Civil War.
Other Presidents who have attended service there include William Henry Harrison, James K. Polk, Franklin Pierce, James Buchanan, Andrew Johnson, Benjamin Harrison, Dwight D. Eisenhower and Richard Nixon
The church has been the spiritual home to Cabinets Members, Congressmen and Supreme Court Justices.
The Congregations’ history runs parallel to the founding of our nation.
The church building is beautiful. The steeple has remained a constant— one that towers over a downtown district that has changed with the times.
I found myself in the shadow of the historic bell tower one evening while walking to the nearby McDonalds for a cup of coffee.
I came around the corner and saw the looming structure a few blocks ahead of me.
I noticed the steeple first. As I got closer, I my eyes worked their way down the centuries’ old marvel of classic architecture.
Then I my attention was drawn to the small yard in front of the church house.
It was circled with an ornate wrought fence near which there was tent pitched.
It wasn’t an overflow awning or a venue for revival preaching.
It was a cheap four man tent you can pick-up in the Wal-Mart sporting goods’ department.
It was erected in the front yard of the historic house of worship.
It was someone’s home.
The contrast struck me.
Here I was— looking at the historic New York Avenue Presbyterian Church and some poor soul was using its yard as homeless encampment.
The sale of one of the many stain glass windows in the old church could feed a family for a year and there was someone camped out on the yard.
This tent was not the only one I saw during our trip.
There are similar encampments at DuPont Circle in the shadow of historic brownstones and Embassy Row.
I passed people living on park benches and was panhandled on the Metro.
It was sad.
“I am blessed,” I thought. “I’ve never been that down on my luck.”
My musings here are not meant to be political. I am not offering an opinion on homelessness policy.
But I am saying this: we can do better.
We are the richest nation in the world, yet the streets of our capital city serve as homeless encampments.
The amount of money that flows in and out of that city is, quite honestly, incalculable. It is sinful.
And people are sleeping in tents and on park benches.
The dichotomy is heartbreaking and it should inspire us to take better care of each other.
Or, at least, acknowledge our shortcomings.