Mensa Caritas Giovanni Paolo II Soup Kitchen
Soup kitchens aren’t as tragic as we are meant to believe.
I won’t pretend I didn’t have a specific image in my head of how I expected a soup kitchen to appear. Like many others, it was easy to imagine a space in which someone is given a meager bowl of soup and stale piece of bread before being sent along their way with a weak “good luck”. A still black-and-white image out of a documentary, one imbued with suffering and misery. I couldn’t be happier to have proven myself wrong.
The day started out early, walking twenty minutes to meet the other volunteers a stone’s throw away from the Colosseum. Under blue skies and the sun cresting over apartments and storefronts, I worried. I’ve been inside and worked in enough cafes to recognize the monsters hunger makes out of people- a familiar frustration. I was afraid of how I would be treated, whether I would be shouted at in the same manner as some of the customers of the restaurant I had worked at in high school.
Despite this gnawing anxiety, I pushed on- determined to push myself outside of my comfort zone. Growth doesn’t happen within security, after all.
After a brief stop for coffee, the group and I were greeted by one of the directors who filled us in on the operation. He guided us through the grounds, showing us where the cooks prepared each of the portions, where each guest would enter, and the tables that would soon be filled.
Mensa Caritas Giovanni Paolo II is a soup kitchen located in Rome that is committed to serving disadvantaged people living in the city, tucked away in the Monti neighborhood. They are open for lunch 7 days a week, including all holidays. The organization not only prioritizes providing a hefty meal for each person who comes through their doors but also taking initiative to address and aid each person who passes through.
I was stationed with another student at the entry desk, gathering the signatures of each guest that passed through and handing out their meal ticket. Alongside two liceo students, who were thankfully patient with our horrible Italian, we checked in every person who came through seeking a warm meal. Each customer held an identification card with a number, which we would flip to the corresponding page in our overstuffed binders. The grids on the page collected a record of how many times the customer had come to the soup kitchen in the last month, a signature on each box marked with the date.
In the signatures alone, one could see the variety of personalities the kitchen brought in. While one person may have an elegant swooping signature, another will sign their name conservatively and punctuated with a smiley face.
Sprawling across every continent and at least five different languages, each person who passed through shared a common vocabulary: hunger, community. In order for a kitchen to run as efficiently as Mensa did, a mute understanding passed between each of the volunteers and customers. A camaraderie which surpassed language. Many of the guests were in a pleasant mood, some seemed outgoing and willing to have conversation, and people were never rude- a pleasant contradiction to the stereotype I had imagined. While some patrons playfully jested with our supervisor, Maurizio, others passed through bashfully. No two people who passed through looked the same, even those who were related to one another. Struggle doesn’t look the same on any person.
When thinking of what I wanted to create in response to my experience, my mind nearly immediately jumped to the craft of papercutting. Easily accessible, all the artist needs are a sheet of paper and a nice pair of scissors to create something beautiful. The act of paper cutting is a tradition you can find in nearly every culture around the world. You don’t need fancy tools, chemicals or a studio to do it. Swiss shepherds would use their sheep shearing scissors to cut images for their loved ones. I wanted to invoke this adaptability and relationship to materiality, as I felt it would challenge myself and my craft.
In my imagery, I wanted to invoke what stood out the most to me throughout my experience. The people, the camaraderie, the food, the prosperity. Several figures help to hoist the house from falling, reflecting how it takes a village to keep such a place running efficiently. Around them, vines of flowers and greenery blooms- reflective of the new beginnings which the kitchen’s clients are able to grow into. Two angels flank the house, helping to support the structure and invoking the religious background of the organization, but also to deify and glorify those who dedicate their time to Mensa.
At the core of the image lies a heart with a loaf of bread inside. At the core of Mensa, and every soup kitchen, is compassion. Compassion which drives its volunteers and employees to reach outside their comfort zone and aid their neighbors. In a world which seeks to divide, it is important to express empathy and compassion to those who need it the most. These experiences are crucial to develop the strength to remain kind in spite of the unending bitterness of the world. To remain kind and remember the humans behind statistics of struggle is the greatest act of solidarity anyone can perform.
Attention is the beginning of compassion.
Learn more about the Culture & identity Envoy program at Temple Rome.
The links below are for resources to help generate and explain more ways to get involved and serve as direct places where you can donate.
PHILADELPHIA:
https://www.peopleskitchenphilly.com
https://www.phillyhouse.org/get-involved
ROME:
GLOBAL: