c. 1998 Religion News Service

BOSTON _ The Rev. Deborah Little is trying to begin the Eucharist service, but her voice is momentarily drowned out by music blaring from a stereo carried on the shoulder of a nearby youth.

Little is accustomed to such interruptions. At other times, it could be sirens or car horns, even the church bells of downtown Boston disrupting the weekly service.

But services continue nonetheless: There’s no choice, for this church _ called the Common Cathedral _ has no walls, and its parish is the famed Boston Common, a large grassy downtown park. Its only liturgical paraphernalia is a hand-carved cross and a portable altar. Its flock, which consists primarily of Boston’s homeless men and women, would have little to offer if a collection plate were passed around.

Little’s homeless congregation is joined every week by a number of non-homeless Bostonians, as they form a semi-circle around the cross carved by a homeless churchgoer.”This community,”Little says of her housed and homeless parishioners alike,”is concretely acting out the Christian belief.” On a recent Sunday, she is wearing a white shirt with a clerical collar and casual gray pants, her feet in sandals without socks. A sticker advertising the Walk for Hunger, a local fund-raiser, adorns her pants.

Services continue as the boombox fades and a tourist snaps a photograph of the assembly and continues on his way.

Common Cathedral was born on Easter Sunday 1996, when Little covered a cart with a slab of plywood and used it as an altar from which to offer Holy Communion to about 17 homeless people on the Common. As far as Little knows, it remains the only church of its kind.

The inspiration for Common Cathedral came on Maundy Thursday _ the day Christians believe Jesus celebrated the Last Supper. As Little passed the Common, she says she thought about Jesus”always going to people to be with them.”The church is out here,”she remembers thinking.

Since then, the weekly gatherings have grown to include about 30 homeless people and nearly as many non-homeless. Little also counts as part of her congregation about 100 others who gather near the prayer circle by the cross on the Common but do not actively join the services.

She keeps the service intentionally informal, with plenty of opportunities for participants to offer personal reflections and prayers.

A woman steps forward from the circle and speaks loudly and forcefully.”The Lord is God,”she says.”He’s in my heart, and I understand him. I just want to tell you one thing. No matter what color of the rainbow, God is good.” The woman embraces Little, and with a smile returns to the circle. The worship service continues.

Initially, Little said, she used the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer, but soon started restricting the service to those things that were”in the bones”of her homeless flock _ Psalm 23, the Lord’s prayer, the”serenity prayer”of 12-step meetings.

The hymns sung by Common Cathedral reflect this attitude and the special circumstances of the”church.”Weekly services include the songs”We Are Standing on Holy Ground,””Kumbaya”and”We Shall Overcome.” Such continuity is important to those who attend regularly.”It’s the only time I can come and forget all that’s going on around me,”said Gary Huber, a 44-year-old Common Cathedral regular donning an NBC News cap.

Huber carved the cross and built the altar. He generally sleeps in his truck or in doorways and cleans up at a friend’s house before church every Sunday _ usually his only chance to shower all week.”It’s true, it’s real, it doesn’t change,”Huber said of Common Cathedral.”No matter what happens in my life, this has never left me.” To some of the non-homeless attending Common Cathedral, the services offer a glimpse of society as the gospel intended.”There isn’t a separation of who is in what denomination, who’s in what building, who’s in and out,”said Sophinia Camp, a resident of nearby Cambridge, Mass.

Camp, a mother of five, attends services at St. Peter’s Episcopal Church in Cambridge with her family on Sunday mornings before praying at Common Cathedral in the afternoon.”It’s a big contrast,”she said.”But it’s not a conflict.” (BEGIN OPTIONAL TRIM)

Little said she sees herself as a natural bridge between the world of the homeless and those with homes.

Her Sundays often begin with a talk about Common Cathedral at a suburban parish, followed by the service on Boston Common at 1.

Little had dedicated herself to Boston’s least affluent citizens even before that first Easter service three years ago.

After a quarter century in communications and management, Little left a job at Harvard Law School to attend an Episcopal seminary. She was ordained a deacon in June 1994.

But her ordination to the priesthood was delayed because some diocesan leaders were”unsure if street ministry was really priesthood.” After much debate, Little was named a priest in October 1995, after which she began distributing peanut butter sandwiches to the homeless in South Station, Boston’s main railroad terminal.

On Christmas Day, she offered the Eucharist for the first time to about 10 people in South Station, a tradition that continued through the winter and gradually gained the acceptance, sometimes even the blessing, of the diocese.

Today, the setting has changed, the congregation has grown, the liturgy has evolved, but the peanut butter sandwiches remain.

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After services, the cloth covering comes off the altar, transforming it into a lunch table. In addition to sandwiches and vegetables, Common Cathedral makes available donated clothes _ piled at the foot of the cross _ legal advice from a volunteer lawyer and healthcare from a nurse.”I think of that as part of the service,”Little says.”If someone is wearing shoes two sizes too small, I have a hard time living with that.” During the week, Little spends much of her time visiting members of her”parish”in the hospital or jail, or attending court hearings with them. She said she never even considered bringing the services inside any of downtown Boston’s nearby churches.”Church is where the people are,”she said.”Most people tell me they’ve felt or been rejected or not welcomed at traditional churches.” Larry Craft, 57, is one Common Cathedral regular who cannot imagine the services being held anywhere than where they are. Formerly homeless himself, Craft calls himself a lay minister and wears a clerical collar.”I come to get fed, fed by the word of God,”he said.”And that way, I can pass it on to other people. It keeps me straight and keeps me sober, and I love it.” DEA END KRESS