Every Saturday morning at the crack of dawn, the lower hall of St. Barnabas Episcopal Church in East New York slowly comes to life. Long before guests arrive, the kitchen is already buzzing—coffee brewing, eggs sizzling, tables laid with care. By 8:00 a.m., the doors open, and the Micah Community Breakfast begins.
“In this community, there are lots of people who only have one meal per day — or not at all — so this might be the only meal they'll get on Saturday,” Cyta Billingy, a volunteer with the program, told us when we visited Micah Breakfast.
The program began over a decade ago in collaboration with an outside organization. A group of parishioners who saw the need for nourishment and companionship in their neighborhood.
Annette Alexander was part of the breakfast crew long before COVID-19 interrupted the rhythm of things. She and others re-launched the ministry using their own funds before securing support from Episcopal Ministries of Long Island.
“Four of us decided to band together, and I started asking different people if they would donate," Annette told us. "Father Taylor asked how we were going to do it, and I told him we would donate and give every week. Until we got the EMLI grant, we were doing it all out of our pockets. ”
Now, Micah Breakfast has grown into a vital ministry serving over 75 guests weekly, even amid the shifting realities of the pandemic and economic strain. What hasn’t changed is the warmth of welcome and consistency of care. Even St. Barnabas’ rector, Father Sylvester Taylor, is there to sit, read a newspaper, have coffee, and be with the Micah Breakfast Community.
“I’m here every Saturday to have breakfast with my community,” Father Taylor told us. “I can’t invite them into this house without being a part of what’s happening with them.”
Many guests have become familiar faces. Some are elderly. Some bring children. Some come because this is their only meal of the day. The volunteers know their names—and they notice when someone is missing.
“There’s a community within the community,” Father Taylor said. “They look out for one another. If breakfast isn’t happening, everyone knows, because someone tells someone else.”
The parishioners of St. Barnabas offer a powerful gospel witness for what lay-led projects can accomplish. Through downturns and setbacks, they raised money, gave out of their own pockets, and even prepared meals in their own home when the occasion demanded it.
“It’s like the Good Book says: feed the hungry, clothe the naked,” Andrew Barry Renee, who ushers at the door, told us. “We believe it’s our duty to do God’s work by doing the things he asks us to do.”
