Mirror to the Soul: The Unseen Faces of Liverpool City Centre

Walking through the heart of Liverpool City Centre and navigating the labyrinthine streets of Birkenhead, it's impossible to turn a blind eye to the harsh lines etched onto the faces of our fellow beings. These lines are not mere vestiges of time; they are the scars of struggle, the grooves of grief. They are the imprints of poverty, not understood nor accepted, traces of choices made under duress and the aftermath of a lack of support that we often take for granted.

They are the stigmata of substance abuse, the relics of alcoholism, and the aftermath of various forms of abuse. This is their silent cry for help, a visual testament to their disenfranchisement. They serve as a stark reminder that we are but a few poor decisions or unfortunate circumstances away from sharing their fate. The frowns and furrows on their faces are etched in anger, frustration, and bitterness.

Reflecting back to the '90s, I remember seeing perhaps just a solitary soul sleeping rough on my favourite street, Bold Street. Nowadays, it's a tableau of homelessness, a stark depiction of a societal issue we must confront. It's littered not only with the physical evidence of the rough sleeping epidemic but also with the invisible debris of our collective attitudes: "They brought it upon themselves," "They could change if they really wanted to," "They deserve their lot in life."

Each of these careless comments cuts deeper than a knife, yet beneath the veneer of our indifference, I know our hearts are with them. Sometimes we extend a helping hand, whether in the form of spare change or a simple sandwich. Yet, too often, we merely glance their way before continuing our journey, our gaze averted, our hearts heavy.

In the words of Unitarian minister A. Powell Davies, "Life is just a chance to grow a soul." Everyone has the right to stumble, to fall, and to rise again. Remember, "We are all one - or at least we should be - and it is our job, our duty, and our great challenge to fight the voices of division and seek the salve of reconciliation," said Rev. William G. Sinkford. As we navigate our own paths, let's keep this in mind and extend the compassion and understanding that we ourselves would wish for. Together, we can not only acknowledge the existence of these individuals but actively participate in their healing and recovery.

As we grapple with the quandary of discerning the genuinely needy from the opportunistic, it is a bitter truth that opportunists may lurk among the destitute. And though it may sadden us to admit it, such is the multifaceted face of our society. Yet, seeing my beloved Bold Street morph into a scene straight from a Dickens novel tells a deeper tale - that our society, in its raw and unvarnished form, is reflecting the casualties of governmental policies. Could it be that the condition of our marginalised is a mirror to the soul of our governance? Are they the living embodiments of our era's struggles, reflecting the stark and uncomfortable truths of our time?

Unitarian minister Robert Fulghum once said, "I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge. That myth is more potent than history. That dreams are more powerful than facts. That hope always triumphs over experience. That laughter is the only cure for grief. And I believe that love is stronger than death." And yet, our societal landscape today seems to echo the sentiments of those left forgotten by a supposedly politically correct system, those who were dismissed as inconsequential, and those who have found themselves growing like wildflowers between the concrete cracks of our cities.

Consider for a moment the misunderstood souls among us: the abstract poets, the unappreciated artists, the unrecognized creators. They might not fit into the conventional fabric of our society, and yet they are often the visionaries shaping the world of tomorrow. Think of Emily Dickinson, Henry David Thoreau, Edgar Allan Poe, Monet, Franz Schubert, William Blake, and Stephen Foster - these luminaries often languished in obscurity and poverty, their genius unrecognized in their lifetime. Foster, whose music is woven into the fabric of American folklore, died with just 36 cents in his pocket.

But let us remember that these souls, though largely unappreciated, weren't completely abandoned. Surely, there were those who saw their light, who extended a helping hand, who brought them kindness and sustenance. The divine was present in their lives, even if in minute measures. And while they lived and died in poverty, their spirits left an indelible imprint on the world. In the words of Unitarian minister Theodore Parker, "Look at the facts of the world. You see a continual and progressive triumph of the right." Let us strive to be the force that supports and uplifts those who need it, acknowledging the innate worth and potential in every individual.

In this capitalistic system riddled with errors and brokenness, if we have managed to function effectively, does it imply our own brokenness? If this world is systematically flawed, is humanity's purpose then to mend what we ourselves have shattered? Could this be the essence of resurrection - the opportunity for rectification, for mending what has been broken? Mark Twain, a renowned writer and a fellow sceptic, once stated, “Whenever you find yourself on the side of the majority, it is time to pause and reflect.”

Unitarianism does not align with the majority, yet, in its cultural ethos and the ways its members navigate the everyday world, it does resonate with many. This is advantageous to a degree, but we must remember that true transformation springs from within, propelled by those in positions of influence. Social elevation is seldom achieved by the working classes or the impoverished alone. It is those with resources and influence, those brimming with compassion and empathy, those who comprehend that the Bible was authored for the marginalized, who can enact lasting change. The scripture seeks to give hope, to grant second chances. The call of God is not just to listen but to act upon these divine directives.

Life, as I see it, is inherently poetic. It involves perceiving a divine calling and acting upon it. We are all, in our distinct ways, instruments of God's will. In the 17th century, the first Minister to the Poor in Liverpool was the Reverend John Johns. He served in the Domestic Mission, tirelessly supporting the impoverished. He was the first Minister to document the squalor and depravity of Liverpool, having come from the idyllic Devon countryside to this hard-edged seaport city. His words resonate: “I have seen life, under forms, which took from it all that in my eyes, made it happy, hopeful, or even human.”

The sufferings of the poor are often invisible to those comfortably ensconced in wealth. While Rev. Johns was given resources to aid the needy, he chose not to simply give money, fearing it might exacerbate rather than alleviate their conditions. How many of us prefer to offer food rather than cash to those populating our streets? Rev. Johns' goal was to empower those he served, to help them help themselves.

Yet, the truth is stark - many were too destitute to be helped, dying of starvation. Our society, oblivious to their plight, needed a wake-up call. Johns brought education to the marginalized, inspiring potential philanthropists to extend their compassion and resources, following the spirit of Christ in befriending the marginalised.

In 1847, 170 years ago, Liverpool was gripped by a typhoid epidemic. Rev. Johns and a Catholic priest dared to care for a typhoid victim whom no one else would touch. They both contracted the disease and died that June, Rev. Johns at the age of 46 - my age.

Rev. Johns's memorial, hidden in a porch at Ullet Road Church, stands as a testament to his tireless work. Below it, you'll find collected clothes and food, offerings for the marginalized. Rev. Johns was a poet, who viewed life's richness even amidst poverty. He didn't blame life for his poverty but believed we must blame ourselves if we are "not a poet enough to call forth the riches of the universe."

To be such a poet, we must have awareness and the power to act, whether from within ourselves or through empowerment by others. John Steinbeck, the acclaimed author, questioned the motives of philanthropists, stating, “If you’re in trouble or hurt or in need – go to the poor people. They’re the only ones that’ll help.