Cocktail Pools and Tents for the Homeless

I often pick up one of those regional “style” magazines when we’re at the beach. They’re giveaways filled with splashy advertising along with a few articles of local interest and often include pages showing new or recently renovated multi-million dollar mansions nestled in secluded bayside coves or overlooking stunning ocean vistas. One of the houses in this month’s issue featured something called a “cocktail pool” which is a shallow swimming pool with a built-in table and chairs (and a backlit waterfall) strictly for conversational purposes. No lap swimming or shouts of Marco, Polo, in this pool. The owners of the home proudly stated they had plenty of room for a neighborhood gathering of 100 people with no one feeling crowded. Ok, then. To quote my grandmother, some people have more money than sense.

In contrast, a church located in the downtown area of the resort has been providing free meals five days a week for anyone who needs food, and over the winter, has allowed a small gathering of unhoused individuals to sleep in church-provided tents between two exterior walls of the building. However, as the season approaches, the powers that be in Ocean City have decided they don’t like the optics of homeless shelters in the same vicinity as $500/night hotels. They don’t want to lose tourist revenue from folks offended by the sight of the unhoused and have given the church a very short time frame to disband the shelter. If they don’t comply, exorbitant fines will be levied against the church.

https://episcopalnewsservice.org/2026/03/19/maryland-episcopal-church-faces-city-fines-for-letting-unhoused-people-sleep-on-its-property/

My husband and I occasionally attend this church. (“Oh, yes, you’re the singers. Welcome back.”) There is a powerful sense of God’s work being done every single day by this small, deeply committed group of parishioners. This is the church where, some years ago, a mentally challenged individual walked into their food pantry, set himself on fire with a can of gasoline which ignited part of the church and killed the rector. But this little church rose from the ashes of unspeakable tragedy and keeps on taking care of those in need. If that’s not an example of true faith, I don’t know what is.

I can’t help seeing the contrast in these two situations as a microcosm of where we are in this country. The chasm between those who build beach houses with imported marble kitchen counters  and cocktail pools and those grateful to sleep in a tent in a damp, chilly, churchyard grows wider every day. The  unmitigated greed, cruelty, and hatred being flaunted  by the tiny percentage of obscenely wealthy individuals currently running this country, is beyond evil. And most of us, me included, keep living our comfortable little lives, while the gap keeps growing like an out of control cancer, metastasizing to the point that no one will be left unscathed.

I do not judge the owners of the house with the cocktail pool. (Well, maybe a little, and I’m still trying to wrap my head around installing a pool not intended primarily for swimming.) But five miles south of that magnificent home lies an even more impressive property—a small church filled with humble people who have known suffering, too, yet continue to serve, by offering food, shelter, and hope to those who are most in need.