"The homeless and marginal-ized truely are today's lepers," says Deacon Tim Sullivan, a graduate of Sacred Heart's MAPS program and founder of PBJ (peanut butter and jelly) Outreach.

She was leaning against the wall of a building in downtown Boston. She held out a sign that read: "Help me. I'm homeless."

Until that summer day in 2002, Deacon Tim Sullivan, a 2000 Master of Arts in Pastoral Studies graduate, simply felt bad for the homeless. For the most part, they were faceless, anonymous. They were simply "there."

Little did Deacon Tim know the encounter would be life-changing.

He gave the woman a few dollars, felt guilty, dug deeper into his wallet and gave her more. As he and his wife, Gail, walked away, to their surprise the woman promised to pray for them.

The next day, another chance encounter, another "sign." Tim was walking through Boston Commons during the lunch hour while Gail was attending a seminar. There stood another woman, this time behind a card table with a jar of jelly, a jar of peanut butter, and a loaf of bread. She was making sandwiches and handing them out to the homeless. Tim brought Gail to the Commons and showed her this set-up.

It was a quiet flight back to Detroit. Before landing, Tim turned to Gail.

"You know, I'm going to do that."

A Few Loaves and Jars

Tim Sullivan took little time to turn his pledge into action. First, he received the blessing and support of Fr. John Sullivan, pastor of Our Lady of Good Counsel Parish in Plymouth, where Tim served as deacon. Then, on a Saturday morning in October 2002, Tim and five volunteers from OLGC gathered at the parish. They had one card table, a few jars of peanut butter and jelly, and about twenty loaves of bread.

But where were the homeless to help?

As a former agent for the Federal Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms (ATF), Tim remembered a detour he once took to work. It brought him past a vacant lot where the homeless often gathered in the rough Cass Corridor section of Detroit. On that Saturday morning in October, in that same vacant lot, PBJ (peanut butter and jelly) Outreach to the poor, marginalized and homeless began. The volunteers gave out sandwiches to about thirty people.

"Wow, this is great," thought Tim.

But a greater thing than this would PBJ Outreach be called to accomplish.

An Ecumenical Outreach

Gail Sullivan, who is a MAPS student at Sacred Heart and Deacon Tim's wife, helps out with clothing distribution. She and other MAPS students are considering a supervised practicum with PBJ.

Over the past two years, the ministry has grown beyond anything Tim could have imagined.

Each Saturday morning around 7:00 am, thirty to forty volunteers gather in the OLGC basement and set to work for the homeless. It is an ecumenical group: Many are parish members, but others come from Baptist, Lutheran and Presbyterian congregations in the area. Some are teenagers doing high school service work from schools such as Ladywood, Divine Child and Plymouth/Canton. Many students stay on with PBJ out of love for the mission, such as Ali. After finishing his required service hours for Plymouth/Canton, Ali brought members of his youth group from the Islamic Institute of Knowledge Mosque in Dearborn to continue helping out.

In assembly line fashion, the volunteers make hundreds of lunch meat or peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, box up clothing, appliances and packaged food donated throughout the week, make vats of hot chili and canisters of cold or hot drinks according to the weather, and cart it all in a caravan of vehicles to the dusty lot at the corner of Martin Luther King Boulevard and Third Street. Before the caravan leaves, Deacon Tim leads the group in a Scripture and Communion service. At the lot, 200-300 grateful people await their coming.

And the numbers keep growing

"It's the Right Thing to Do"

What motivates suburbanite volunteers to spend their mornings each Saturday in an inner city wasteland, particularly when the weather gets cold?

"It's the right thing to do," says Celeste Wojcik, who has been with PBJ since its inception. Her son and two daughters help fold donated clothing most every Wednesday evening.

Mary Tiell enjoys meeting again the people she serves each week. "We've gotten to know their names and they have become our friends. They rely on us, but we rely on them, too. They pray for us every Saturday."

Betsy Rosinski rousted her husband, Bud, out of bed that very morning so both could help out for the first time. "He keeps talking about it every Saturday. So I got in from my walk and said, 'Hurry up and get out of bed! We don't have time to take a shower.'" Betsy and Bud made it just in time to load up their car with boxes of food and attend the prayer and communion service.

"Almost nobody comes just once," says Tim, who is continually amazed at the generosity of PBJ's volunteers and benefactors. One woman from Chicago periodically sends a check for $100. "I have no idea how she heard of us."

"And it's never rained in almost two years," adds Tim, "though it misted a couple of times for a few minutes, but that doesn't count."

MAPS Training is Helpful

When their apartment burned down, Ray Pappert, right and his son Robert Kreimer, left, turned to PBJ for help. The ministry supplied food and household items, without which, "we would be in big trouble," says Robert.

Usually around 10:30 am the food runs out and the morning closes at the lot with a group prayer. The homeless are invited but not required to participate.

Deacon Tim explains the unfortunate situation of those they serve by estimating that one third have psychiatric problems, one third have chemical dependency problems and one third are "flat out down on their luck." Beyond material help, PBJ offers job counseling through a volunteer human resource professional from Ford Motor Company, and spiritual counseling for those who ask.

"What I do is go along the line, talk to people, welcome them. Touching them means as much if not more than the food," Tim says. Gail Sullivan, Tim's wife, who works fulltime with ATF and is also a MAPS student at the seminary, volunteers with PBJ when her busy schedule permits.

"At first I was reluctant because it is important that I have a different ministry than my husband. But I saw they could use another person to concentrate on spiritual matters with the homeless. There is a need to assist him." She feels God may be calling her to a more active role in serving the homeless, and has applied to do her MAPS supervised ministry with PBJ.

Tim feels his education at Sacred Heart has given him "a good grounding" in performing his service to the marginalized as well as his ministry as a deacon. Of all the faculty members, he especially credits the "immeasurable influence" of Sr. Mary Finn in helping him "to apply the academics of the classroom to the practicality of the street."

"Her love of the poor, her deep spirituality . . . it is invigorating just to be around her."

Deacon Tim prays with a woman with a broken back. "the thing that surprises me is how religious they are," says Tim about those whom he ministers and loves.

Prayer and Trust

If you had told him in June 2002 he would have a ministry to the homeless, "I would have said you were crazy," Deacon Tim says.

"Where do I see PBJ going?" he wonders. "Only the Holy Spirit knows."

Tim is encouraging leaders to emerge that will carry on the work of PBJ whether he is involved or not. This is especially important since he has just resigned after five rewarding but strenuous years as a theology teacher at Loyola Jesuit High School in Detroit. Tim is looking for another fulltime position, but has the sneaking suspicion God has more work in store for him with the homeless. Regardless, he has no fears for the future: for himself, for PBJ or for those the ministry serves.

"I'm really starting to believe the things I learned at Sacred Heart," Tim says.

"Trust in God, trust in prayer, and truly believe that God cares for us all . . . no matter what."

Under an open sky, youth and adults work side-by-side dishing out chili and donated baked goods. The PBJ ministry operates each Saturday reguardless of weather, including Christmas Eve and Thanksgiving.