Reflections on Neighborhood Chaplaincy with Mary Flin

One of the most striking aspects of Mary’s work is her intentional use of the word “neighbor” instead of “homeless.” This simple shift in language reframes the relationship, emphasizing dignity, shared humanity, and belonging. As the article notes, urban neighborhoods are often “tribal,” with people forming alliances for survival amidst poverty, addiction, and mental health challenges. Mary’s chaplaincy breaks through isolation, offering connection and hope.

Mary’s care goes far beyond distributing food or teaching classes. Whether in jails, hospitals, or her own home, she embodies the “heart of a chaplain”—one who is present, listens deeply, and brings peace into chaos. I witnessed her lead chapel services in both the men’s and women’s units at the jail. Despite insisting she’s “not a preacher,” she shared biblical concepts in ways that resonated with people who had never set foot in a church. She invited them to describe what God is like, writing their words—energy, life, light, empathy, fair, loyal, omnipotent—on the whiteboard. Through relatable stories, like the bird following the light out of a house, she illustrated spiritual truths in ways everyone could grasp.

Mary’s approach is deeply incarnational. She lives among those she serves, sharing meals at her Sunday Suppers, where up to 50-60 people gather for food and fellowship. Her home becomes a sanctuary for those in crisis. I saw her respond immediately when a neighbor was threatened with arrest over a misunderstanding at the pet shelter, and again when a man, battered and under the influence, arrived at her door. She welcomed him, fed him, and set gentle boundaries, always treating him with respect.

As a chapter written by Mary in The Heart of a Chaplain book describes, chaplains in high-poverty neighborhoods must practice at the same level of competence as those in hospitals or hospices, requiring theological training and practical skills. But what sets Mary apart is her “cultural humility”—the willingness to be a learner, to listen, and to never assume she fully understands another’s experience. She models this by washing the feet of women at the local shelter, not to counsel or advise, but simply to serve and honor them.

Mary’s work is not a solo act. She builds teams, collaborates with churches, and weaves together a network of support that includes police, healthcare workers, and neighbors themselves. Her Sunday Suppers are more than meals—they are the heart of a missional community, where everyone is invited to belong.

The article asks, “What if every neighborhood had a chaplain of its own?” Watching Mary, I see the answer: neighborhoods would become places of peace, where people are known, valued, and supported through life’s storms.

 • The best way to bring flourishing to a neighborhood is through social support and genuine community.

 • Language matters—calling people “neighbors” fosters dignity and connection.

 • Chaplaincy is less about preaching and more about presence, listening, and practical love.

 • Cultural humility—being a learner and servant—opens doors to real transformation.

Mary Flin’s example challenges me to rethink what it means to serve, to listen, and to love my own neighbors. Her life is a living answer to the question: What if every neighborhood had a chaplain? The peace she brings is not just for those she serves, but for anyone willing to step into the role of neighbor.