“Jennifer” – Seeing the Sacred in the Margins

I met Jennifer Shuttleworth years ago, on the streets of Toronto. She was in a wheelchair, homeless, navigating a world that had made her invisible. And yet, in the middle of that chaos and neglect, she exuded a kind of strength that stopped me in my tracks.

She wasn’t loud or seeking attention. It was something quieter, deeper—an inner resilience that coexisted with profound pain. The pain of being alone. The pain of being marginalized. The pain of being cast aside by a society that too often looks the other way when it comes to people like Jennifer. When this was filmed, this was the 5th winter that Jennifer slept outside on the streets of Toronto.

What struck me most wasn’t just her circumstances, but her humanity. Her presence. Her dignity. Even after everything the world had taken from her, she was still unmistakably herself—sharp, observant, and real.

The Sacred Duty to Care

In moments like this, I find myself returning to scripture—not for comfort, but for clarity.

“If any of your fellow Israelites become poor and are unable to support themselves among you, help them as you would a foreigner and stranger, so they can continue to live among you.” — Leviticus 25:35

This is not a suggestion. It’s a commandment. A sacred instruction. We are meant to lift each other up. To help people continue to live among us, not merely survive in the shadows of our cities.

And yet, people like Jennifer are too often pushed to the edges—ignored, criminalized, or offered help that comes with strings attached or dignity removed. Her story, and so many like hers, forces us to ask: Are we living up to what we say we believe?

More Than a Story—A Mirror

There are two videos that capture her story—powerful, raw, and real. If you take the time to watch, you won’t just see her. You’ll see us: our systems, our silence, our discomfort. You’ll also see the strength of someone who has endured far more than most of us ever will.

What we often call “the homeless” are not a monolith. They are Jennifers—individuals with names, memories, humor, intelligence, trauma, and sacred worth.

We Must Do Better

Jennifer’s life is a call to action. Not just to give more or do more, but to see more. To shift how we think about justice—not as charity, but as relationship. As responsibility. As sacred work.

May we remember that everyone we pass on the street was once a child. Once whole. Still worthy.

May we never forget that the divine is not found only in temples, churches, or synagogues—but in those the world tries to forget.

Especially there.