The June afternoon is chilly and rainy. But hundreds of hungry men have lined up, as theyve done for decades, for food from the Franciscan Sisters of the Atonement across from Oppenheimer Park in the Downtown Eastside.
The queue stretches from the Dunlevy side of the convent around the corner onto Cordova, almost reaching the imposing St. James Anglican Church on Gore.
Shortly before 3 p.m., staff unlatch low windows and hand out sandwiches made by volunteers.
Men dressed in jeans, trainers, faded coats and caps stand quietly, then quickly step up to the first window to receive a plastic bag that contains sandwiches, a spoon and a pastry, and to the second window for a container of soup.
How are you, Sister? one man asks Sister Marianne Rohrer.
Miserable, as ever, the slender, bespectacled nun in civilian clothes tells him. Then adds, quietly, No, Im not.
The nuns say they serve food to an average of 500 people a day, five days a week.
Only a dozen women populate the queue of mostly middle-aged men. The work they do here is fantastic. They provide a lot of help to us, says one young man who wears dark sunglasses in spite of the dreary day. Its sad to see them shutting down.
He and the other recipients swiftly vanish down lanes and streets. Five hundred hungry souls are fed within 15 minutes.
The Franciscan Sisters of the Atonement, an order based in Graymoor, N.Y., have served residents of the Downtown Eastside for 85 years, adapting their services to shifting populations. Now the four remaining nunsMarianne Rohrer, June Schlereth, Elizabeth Kelliher, and Teresa Schlerethare leaving Â鶹´«Ã½Ó³»and another order is moving into their space at 385 East Cordova because there arent enough nuns in their order to replace them.
The next day, a man waiting in line for lunch in front of the small brick St. Pauls Church next to the convent calls to the Couriers reporter.
He puts the reporters pen to paper, keen to record his thoughts on each nun as his buddies look on.
Sister Mary-Ann [sic], he writes, Called the sergeant at first because of her army-like attitude, then the Soup Nazi, because she likes to delegate to others.
Sister June, a great nun, an intellectual. A good person, he adds.
The man in the dirty cap and coat refuses to give his name for legal reasons and doesnt want his nickname in print because he wants to avoid abuse from the nuns. But he shares his favourite quick-fire exchanges between Sister June [Schlereth] and area men. Ill see you in hell, he says one man called out to her.
Youre already in hell, she shot back.
He finishes the anecdote just as Schlereth passes. One day Ill see you go through those doors, she says to him, nodding toward the church.
Only in my coffin, he quips.
Youll be too busy burning, she retorts.
She is the best of the best, he says after Schlereth departs.
Sister Elizabeth, the best nun on Earth, he writes.
Shes like the grandmother you never had, he says.
To Japanese-Canadians interned during the Second World War, the Franciscan Sisters were similarly beloved.
The Franciscan Sisters of the Atonement arrived in Â鶹´«Ã½Ó³»in 1926 at the request of Katie OMelia, the daughter of Anglican missionaries who worked in Japan.
OMelia moved to Â鶹´«Ã½Ó³»to serve residents of the former Japantown near Oppenheimer Park. She provided residents with daycare, English classes and religious education. The Sisters expanded OMelias work until 1941, when Japan entered the Second World War.
Some of the nuns, including Kellihers older sibling, Sister Jerome, accompanied Japanese-Canadian citizens to the internment camp in Greenwood. They established an elementary school in the once abandoned mining town and a commercial high school where classes included typing.
Lurana Tasaka, a 72-year-old resident of Kitsilano, was three years old when she was evacuated from Steveston to Greenwood.
Those were my happiest days in Greenwood, with the Sisters, she says. Some people would compliment my motherthere were nine of usthey would compliment her with the children. She would say thanks to the Franciscans, thanks to the Franciscans, because we learned so much. We were singing Latin hymns at 12 years old or we were learning how to play the piano, and this was in a ghost town.
Tasakas mother may have appreciated the Franciscan Sisterss influence, but the devout Buddhist wasnt about to become Catholic. Tasaka and her siblings, however, were keen to convert partly because they wanted Canadian Christian names. One of the Sisters gave me the Franciscan Sisterss foundresss name, Tasaka says.
Lurana White started the Franciscan Sisters of the Atonement in the late 1880s in New York. Shes credited with helping assist women at a time of profound inequality. Having lost their homes, few Japanese returned to the Downtown Eastside. So the Sisters expanded the daycare to serve the areas poor families until 1993, when the demand lessened as other facilities opened and drug problems pushed families out.
In the Franciscan Sisters early days in Vancouver, hungry people knocked on their door to request food. The knocks became so frequent that the nuns began readying sandwiches in the morning, Kelliher says. According to the orders records, the daily demand for food increased after the Second World War.
These days, the nuns feed homeless men and those struggling to survive on insufficient incomes with the help of donations and volunteers. The nuns monitor the front of the line to make sure no one jumps the queue, which could trigger violence among the mentally ill.
The Franciscan Sisters distribution of food does not include proselytizing. Its not our place to impose our belief on them, Kelliher says.
Minda Castro, who takes three buses from Richmond to arrive at the convent before 8 a.m. every Friday to assemble hundreds of sandwiches alongside other volunteers, loves the sisters.
Castro, 75, attended high school taught by Franciscan Sisters in the Philippines. They are compassionate, theyre kind and they understand people, says the woman with a gentle face who wears sandwich-making gloves, a hairnet and a jaunty green scarf.
Sitting in the entrance to the immaculate convent, where images from security cameras flick on a small black and white TV, the 87-year-old Kelliher says Franciscans are to always be of service, particularly to the poor, and to spread the good news of Gods love to all. Its unity and peace with justice, she says. Thats the theme of our lives and our work and what were about.
Until the Catholic Archdiocese of Â鶹´«Ã½Ó³»announced their departure, the order received little media attention for their work. We dont ask for it, Kelliher says.
But Ernie Leffler, who has worked in the Downtown Eastside for 31 years, deems them one of the areas worthiest groups. If I ever won a major lottery, [its] one of the very few places in the Downtown Eastside Id give to, because I know virtually all of it would go to the people here, says Leffler, manager of the Evelyne Saller Centre, which provides $2 meals, free showers and laundry, recreation and budgeting help.
I cant imagine how many souls theyve touched without an expectation of wanting things, he adds. Some of the other agencies out there, youve got to pray and do this, that and the other before they even give you a piece of food, right. No expectation for those girls. And anybody who does give them a hard time, theyve got the rest of the lineup to deal with.
Leffler notes until recently, the Franciscan Sisters offered monthly sit-down dinners, a need that exists beyond Easter and Christmas. They provided fresh fish Friday mornings, emergency food hampers and a clothing centre for men in need of work wear.
Leffler knows Kelliher, an outspoken advocate for peace, justice and affordable housing, the best.
Kelliher prays and meditates every morning. Shes long worked with Stop War and with World Views Collaborative, a group that started after 9/11 to combat prejudice against people of any religion. Kelliher is active with the Metro Â鶹´«Ã½Ó³»Alliance, which unifies churches, temples and synagogues, unions and community organizations to express shared concerns to elected officials.
The woman who walks with a cane also attends meetings of the Urban Core Community Workers Association in the Downtown Eastside.
The most important group that all four nuns attend is the Sisters Association of the Archdiocese of Vancouver, which spreads messages of justice and truth through all of their contacts, Kelliher says.
Its 175 members stress the need for housing for low-income families and elderly people, highlight the problem of human trafficking and forced prostitution, share information on the urgent need to care for the earth, air and water and speak up on behalf of people in less developed countries who are mistreated by corporations.
The association communicates its concerns to all levels of government and works with church ministers, particularly on housing and care of the Earth. What do the ministers do with the information?
Wed like to know that, too, Kelliher says.
Rohrer handles business operations. Schlereth visits the dying at Mays Place hospice and arranges eyeglasses for those in need from the Order of Malta. She and her sibling, Sister Teresa Schlereth, lead scripture study classes attended mostly by people who live outside of the neighbourhood.
Kelliher wanted to become a Franciscan after she met nuns from the order at a camp. They were the nicest ladies Id ever met, she says. When I came home from camp I told my mother thats what Im going to be when I grow up.
She has been with the Franciscans for 73 years. Kelliher attended demonstrations against the Vietnam War during her time in New York, opposed apartheid in South Africa and has served poverty-stricken families for decades. She saw a family of two adults and two sons living in a cramped one-bedroom apartment.
Kelliher says one of the sons, who was four years old, said, If only I were dead, everybody would be happy.
At age 15 he was dead by his own hand. Kelliher sees poverty contributing to mental, physical, emotional and addiction problems in Vancouver. Were destroying our future, she says. I am amazed that our elected officials dont realize the critical importance of families that are raising the young of our future.
Since her arrival in Â鶹´«Ã½Ó³»23 years ago, Kelliher hasnt seen situations for poor, marginalized people improve. The desperate need for affordable housing has done nothing but increase since Ive been here, she says. More people, especially young families, have found themselves having to move and move and move, displacing them because they cannot afford the rents The situation for low-income families is desperate.
A dearth of new nuns joining their order means the Franciscan Sisters of the Atonement need to move on. Society has simply become more secular. Plus the fact the opportunity for women in other fields has opened up greatly in the last 30 or 40 years, Kelliher says.
Some contend nuns were the first feminists. Instead of becoming a wife and mother, a woman could join an order and follow her calling.
Kelliher says this independence dates back to the 12th century when Saint Clare of Assisi, a follower of Saint Francis, wrote her own rules for a religious community of women that would follow Franciss teachings. The Pope wanted Francis and other male superiors to supervise Clare, but Francis said no. That certainly would have been the beginning of a feminist movement, she says. Otherwise, it was not acceptable to have women on their own and independent without some male supervision.
Kelliher may continue her own work when she moves. They do have the same group in Edmonton, the Greater Edmonton Alliance, she says.
The Archdiocese of Â鶹´«Ã½Ó³»is taking over the Cordova property. It intends to continue the food and clothing services but hadnt determined as of July 22 how they would be delivered.
The Missionaries of Charity, an order established by Mother Teresa of Calcutta, will move into the convent.
The Sisters end their services Aug. 6 and depart at the end of the month.
The Japanese-Canadian community will honour them at the Powell Street Festival, July 30 and 31.
Twitter: @Cheryl_Rossi