For about 10 years, Gwen has come to rely on the food provided by Northwest Portland’s Trinity Episcopal Cathedral. She particularly enjoys the dessert and house salad.
Gwen, who declined to provide her last name, is in her late 70s and said she struggles to make ends meet living on a fixed income.
“I have an apartment, but it takes up a large portion of my Social Security,” she said. “It leaves very little for food or just basic stuff.”
Trinity Episcopal Cathedral has been offering a daily food pantry and weekly hot meals for the hungry for years. As many as 200 people — some unhoused and others housing insecure — partake in the hot meals every Wednesday.
In recent months, though, this food pantry has drawn the ire of neighboring businesses, churches and homeowners. They say the cathedral is at least partially responsible for a surge in crime, drug use and visible homelessness in Northwest Portland.
The backlash has caused Trinity to reevaluate the meaning of service and hospitality, and how those should be balanced with the security of the cathedral and its congregants. For the cathedral, the sudden rise in crime and drug use caught them off guard.
“It got out of hand this summer, and our neighbors got pretty upset about it,” said Rev. Nathan LeRud, dean of Trinity Cathedral. “That’s a hard line to walk when you’re trying to be as open and welcoming to as many different kinds of people as possible.”
‘Radical hospitality’
The Wednesday meal at Trinity resembles a restaurant more than a stereotypical food pantry. Volunteers show guests to a table, take orders and wait on them. Light piano music plays in the background. There’s no requirement to participate in prayers or sign any forms with personal information.
Trinity has offered a food pantry six days a week for nearly 40 years and has operated the Wednesday meal program since the mid-2000s.
It all stems from Trinity’s philosophy of “radical hospitality,” where everyone is welcome to partake in the cathedral’s services, no matter their backgrounds, appearance or beliefs. Members of the church described hospitality as a key part of their religious beliefs.
“Homelessness is a very complicated issue, but this is about addressing hunger‚” said Jerry Petty, who runs Trinity’s kitchen. “And if somebody’s hungry, we’re going to feed them.”
It’s calm inside the food pantry, but the volunteers know what a chaotic summer it was for the neighborhood. This section of Northwest Portland, near the Pearl District and Providence Park, saw a sharp increase in visible homelessness and open drug use.
Those interviewed for this story point to a local McDonald’s, a weekly needle exchange event and Trinity as contributing reasons.
Much of the increase began when the Portland Police Bureau swept Old Town, leading many people to move northwest. But some in the area believe the food pantry itself attracts negative behavior.
Michelle Milla lives a couple blocks from Trinity and said she’s seen rampant drug activity since relocating from St. Louis, Missouri, last winter.
“We have people breaking into our neighbors on all corners,” Milla said. “Had I had a crystal ball in 2017 into what we’ve experienced this summer, we would not have moved here full-time.”
Milla said she would like to see Trinity turn away individuals who are known to cause problems in the neighborhood.
The conditions have also led to tensions between Trinity and the nearby St. Mary’s Catholic Cathedral, which operates a school in the neighborhood. Parents at the school told OPB they’ve organized meetings at St. Mary’s, and that parents have identified the food pantry as an area of concern.
St. Mary’s Cathedral and its school declined OPB’s request for an interview, but stated over email they have not had communications with Trinity Cathedral or LeRud regarding the food pantry. Still, Trinity has come up in neighborhood meetings, they said.
“I do not think we are especially interested in singling out Trinity Episcopal Cathedral for blame,” wrote Andreas Loeffler, director of pastoral services for St. Mary’s. “In our meetings, people have pointed out their potential role in our current situation and how they might mitigate their negative impact. From their point of view, they believe they are doing the Lord’s work in feeding the hungry. Balancing is never easy.”
LeRud himself has received a flurry of angry emails from neighbors and local businesses, some of whom are suggesting that Trinity reduce or shut down its food pantry. But he said the food pantry is not the cause of the problem.
“We could take away the food pantry tomorrow, and that’s not going to change the issue that we’re seeing in terms of the drug dealing in this neighborhood,” he said.
The cathedral itself is no stranger to criminal activity. Recently, someone broke into the cathedral’s freezer, stealing hundreds of pounds of meat donated by a local hospital. That’s in addition to the drug dealing and other criminal activity that became nearly commonplace over the summer.
“This cathedral could not have been designed better for dealing drugs,” LeRud said. “There’s lots of little hidden corners that are badly lit, so we’re trying to make it less hospitable to that kind of behavior.”
That means more lighting and cameras across the 118-year-old campus; Trinity now has security every day of the week, necessitating a $50,000 increase in its budget.
Internal and external struggles
In addition to the anger from outside, members of Trinity Cathedral are having their own debates. The congregation recently held a meeting to discuss security improvements and the level of crime in the surrounding area.
Members shared concerns about their personal safety, including whether they could safely walk to the parking lot after choir rehearsals. Others discussed the criticism from neighbors.
“I was surprised at the community response that has been more confrontational, especially from other churches and community members,” congregant Pam Erickson said. “I understand the level of frustration, but how do we deal with that and still retain Trinity’s mission to help feed the poor?”
Most members agreed, security increases have been necessary. The cathedral is also offering de-escalation courses, so people can better handle situations when a visitor is having a mental health crisis.
But LeRud made one thing clear: While conversations are ongoing, the food pantry isn’t going anywhere. In his view, getting rid of the ministry would go against the tenets of his faith.
“I have a sense of where I think Jesus would be on this campus,” he said, “and it’s probably in that food pantry line hanging out with people who are marginalized and generally invisible to most of society.”