by: Michael P. Evans, MDiv, PhD
On a gray March afternoon in San Francisco’s Tenderloin, I met Anthony at Open Cathedral, an outdoor worship service led by San Francisco Night Ministry. His story—full of struggle, grace, and quiet resilience—revealed the sacred power of community to nourish both body and spirit.
Walking down Leavenworth from where I parked on Turk Street, I’m struck by the pulse of the Tenderloin. Laughter spills from a cluster of friends, a man curls up on a blanket in a doorway, and a vendor arranges wares on a faded carpet. There’s the occasional tent on the sidewalk, and the air hums with life—raw, overflowing, vibrant. It’s the last Sunday in March – cool and cloudy with a gentle breeze that permeates my sweater. At UN Plaza at Leavenworth and McAllister, Open Cathedral unfolds: San Francisco Night Ministry’s weekly outdoor worship, the sanctuary without walls. It’s a ministry of presence, spiritual care, and community—dedicated to those experiencing homelessness and its associated dangers in San Francisco.
After six years in the Bay Area and three years living in SF, I’m finally here. My friends and colleagues have long worked with Open Cathedral. I’m a little ashamed it’s taken me so long to join for Sunday service. I have a background in healthcare chaplaincy. In my day job, I am a chaplain fellow in psychiatry at Stanford Hospital. Night Ministry feels like a natural extension of my work, an opportunity to serve the most vulnerable in the city I love and call home.
At two o’clock, over sixty people gather under sable skies that threaten rain. Folding chairs face the table-turned-dais, and ushers—church members themselves—pass out bulletins. Dogs wag tails, and coffee steams from a side table. The congregation is a tapestry of individuals and families from diverse racial, ethnic, and religious backgrounds. They are young, old, queer, disabled. It is a community unapologetic in its welcome and sense of mission. The liturgy, Lutheran and Episcopal in rhythm, feels familiar yet electric in the open air.
Pastor Katie Laurence reads from Luke, a sermon on the prodigal son, that lands like a thunderclap: God welcomes all, no matter where they’ve been. The prayers of the people follow, raw and unfiltered—over ten minutes of wins, worries, sorrows, and political angst. I’m told this part of worship often runs longer, still. It’s an opportunity for those too often silenced to speak their innermost thoughts and hopes. Their words resonate with me.
Open Cathedral, he tells us, feeds him twice over: with food and with scripture. ‘man shall not live by bread alone,’ he quotes
After church, my colleague Sam and I meet with Anthony, a man in his late thirties with a long brown beard and warm brown eyes. Night Ministry provides meals after each service—donated and made possible by supporters. Anthony is touched that church folks remember he is vegetarian, offering this option each week in accordance with his dietary needs. He’s about to bite into a peanut butter and jelly sandwich when Sam and I introduce ourselves and sit with him.
He’s friendly and unguarded but sidesteps his past. “I was reborn when I found Christ on the streets,” he says, setting the sandwich down. “Where I came from matters less than where I am now.” Mistakes, he admits, shadow his story, but shares how he leans on God’s grace. The last two days have been rough—he tears up, but doesn’t elaborate. I ask if he loves himself as God does. “It’s a struggle,” he says, “but knowing God’s mercy helps.” Open Cathedral, he tells us, feeds him twice over: with food and with scripture. “Man shall not live by bread alone,” he quotes from Matthew, and he savors all three Bible readings at each service. We thank him; he thanks us in return.
This is the heartbeat of San Francisco Night Ministry—meeting people where they are and recognizing their dignity amid the chaos of housing insecurity. In this first experience of worship at Open Cathedral, I feel the weight of a truth SFNM embodies: even in the harshest corners of San Francisco, with nourishment, community can flourish.
