Taken from: World Vision

The Man in the Collar — GROUND ZERO SACRIFICE I

by Reyn Cabinte

September 11. The unimaginable. A plane had slammed into one of the World Trade Center towers, sending a huge plume of smoke and ashes into the sky.

More than fifty blocks away, Rev. Richard Del Rio was having breakfast with a friend when the images came through the television. "That looks like terrorism," he said.

Then another shock. A second plane slammed into the other WTC tower, barreling its nose through the skyscraper, almost exiting the other side. Del Rio and his friend continued to watch the scene until the third shock: The first tower started disappearing from the skyline, plummeting straight down in a dark gray cloud of pulverized steel. The second tower was still standing.

Del Rio thought about doing something. "I was thinking of the people trapped up there, how [rescuers] were going to get up there," recounts Del Rio. "And I thought 'I gotta get there.' It's my city, those are my people down there and we had to get them out."

While thousands of New Yorkers ran north, away from the WTC area, Del Rio hopped on his Harley-Davidson Electra Glide and headed downtown, stopping at his apartment to get his clergy collar. "I don't normally wear a collar," says Del Rio. "But I didn't want to have to explain who I was."

Police had closed down the FDR highway, the fastest way downtown, and had set up other checkpoints along the way. But Del Rio was waved through because as a pastor on Manhattans' gritty lower east side, he had been a clergy liason for the NYPD, and held a police ID.

"There was desperation on the faces of emergency workers, policemen and firemen," Del Rio remembers. "The desperation pushed them into the risks they were taking. It wasn't fear. Panic would have made them run away."

"Whoever was there, they were there to save life regardless of color, or class. It was a lesson to be learned."

And in the middle of the chaos there were those who needed the man in the collar. Says Del Rio, "In the desperation there, people saw the collar, and to them, I represented the closest link to God. I didn't plan it that way. God gave me that wisdom."

One man saw him and asked him to give last rites to body parts found in the wreckage. Other rescuers asked him for comfort and prayer. "I made the prayers simple so that the men and women could remember and repeat them later," Del Rio told Christianity Today magazine.

Another woman came running out of a novelty store crying to Del Rio for help. Her husband was in a wheelchair, and trapped inside the store.

"The store was filled with ash and smoke," recalls Del Rio. "The man insisted, "I'll be okay.' Of course he wasn't, and couldn't move his wheelchair through the ash, debris, and fire hoses. It was tough to get him out, but we made it over to a safe zone."

That day, Del Rio helped police clean out a van so that bodies could be loaded in it. He swept up ashes and debris from the entrance of Brooks Brothers clothing store, which was being used as a triage for bodies found in the wreckage. A bridge fell and crushed a fire truck down to two feet high. He prayed with those who needed it. He listened. Wherever he was needed, the man in the collar served.

By Thursday, news of Del Rio's ministry response had traveled throughout the New York community. Back at Del Rio's Abounding Grace church, the phones were ringing off the hook with pastors all over the country asking what they could do to help.

GRITTY STREET PASTOR

Voluntarily running directly into the heart of the need seems a natural thing for Del Rio. That's what he did in 1982, when he began ministry on the mean streets of lower Manhattan. Del Rio would drive his truck to the corners with the most drug dealers, then get out and talk to them.

"I'm a fisher of men," he explains. "So I'll go out to the deep sea--with bait! Jesus called smelly, dirty, fishermen. So I go at risk. I get dirty, and go where the fish are. God just put it on my heart to reach the people on the streets."

The deep-sea fishing bait used is Del Rio himself. His biceps are covered in ornate tattoo art. A diamond stud twinkles in his ear. His salt-and-pepper goatee matches his slicked back hair. He rides a Harley. Not the typical image of the typical neighborhood American minister—or even New York pastor. But underlying it all is the desire to connect with people in his distinctly unfriendly neighborhood.

"Our people are those who know 'You who have freely received, freely give,'" He says, quoting the Bible. "We have a mix here, but the majority are poor. Single mothers, guys who used to be drug dealers, or in gangs. Some are on welfare. People who come from that kind of background." Pointing to his earring he says, "This is so that I, like Paul, can be all things to all men."

Del Rio says committing to a ministry here has taught him to run it like a kind of war room, with little funding, and little support from the outside. While Del Rio's congregation is a sign of a vibrant Christian ministry to a broken community, the Abounding Grace church building is a fixer-upper at best. The top floor was recently renovated to house the youth ministry at a cost of $20,000. Del Rio says there's $10,000 more work to go. And the building's roof leaks.

"We come from the side of ministry that gets battered around," he says, noting that he has a very low budget and many bills. "I have 5 staff pastors, an office, $6000 in monthly facilities expenses, 2 vans, insurance. We have a Saturday coffee house, we got a lot of stuff going on here."

But of all of the 'stuff', Abounding Grace's crown jewel is its service to inner-city youth.

"We keep them out of trouble, we intervene for them, we make sure they do well in school. We try to minister to them before they get into trouble," says Del Rio. "All of this we do with very little money."

This fall, Abounding Grace was planning to purchase a 150-acre campground in upstate New York for the inner-city youth they serve. By early September, Del Rio's small congregation of 200 had raised $6000 towards a $10,000 initial deposit on the property.

"We were gonna have snowmobiles, a bunch of counselors. It had huge barn, a small house. We wanted to take the children out of the city into a place like that where we could really minister to them."
But that was early September. A lifetime ago now. By the 11th, the twin towers were falling down.

THE GROUND ZERO SACRIFICE II

In the two weeks after the attacks, Del Rio has worked with the New York City Mayor's office to organize and screen clergy who want to serve the rescue workers and families down at Ground Zero. With the Rev. Mark Rivera of Primitive Christian Church in lower Manhattan, and Del Rio's Son Jeremy, an attorney, Rev. Del Rio organized the Ground Zero Clergy Task Force.

"We have sacrificed our time by walking local and national ministry leaders into the site,"says Del Rio. "We want them to see it. Pictures don't tell the story. And then down there we reassure the police and firemen, give them support, tell them that the world is praying for them. That after all this, we're for them."

Clergy have been coming from all over New York, and the country, to pray for fire houses, police precincts, families who have lost members and whose futures are now uncertain. Del Rio says Rev. Rivera and Jeremy Del Rio find themselves in a position to speak to the Mayor on behalf of the New York church.

"Now [in the two weeks after the attacks] we've begun to advocate for the clergy of the city. We want the Mayor's Office of Emergency Management to know they have clergy that they can count on when something happens."

But for a trench-warfare pastor on the lower east side, being the mayor's go-to-guy comes at a financial cost. "We took the only cash we had—the money for the camp—and dedicated it for the people who are broken and the hurting, and the people that needed help because of this tragedy," says Del Rio. "We didn't think that this was the time to be thinking about the camp."

And this poor church gave has already spent some of that camp down payment on the Ground Zero Clergy Task Force.

"We're housing volunteers and clergy. Much of the clergy going to the site are coming through us. We've been feeding them, providing them soap, vehicles to get around the city. And we want to set up a command center here at the church for the effort."

Del Rio has also instructed the members of his church to open up their homes to people in the lower east side community to begin searching for those who may have been affected by the terror attack.
"So for our church it's going to be very grassroots," he says. "We're just going to give them cookies to host these people, and teach them how to listen."

WORLD VISION ALONG SIDE THE CHURCH

And now, happily, the story of Del Rio's service—now the story of the church's service—is starting to travel throughout the entire country. Christian relief organizations have been looking for ways to help the spiritual ministries of New York City.

The GZCTF was the first to receive money from World Vision's American Families Assistance Fund. The AFAF, run by Christian relief organization World Vision, was set up to direct money directly to the churches that are on the frontline of care in New York.

"Our goal is to raise $10 million to empower the churches who are reaching out to those who are affected," says Jimmy Lee, Director of Strategic Initiatives for World Vision.

World Vision gave the task force $22,960 to set up a command center in an office at Rev. Rivera's church. Pastor Rivera, who is serving as the point person for the task force. As a result, the GZCTF now has an office with a full slate of office equipment including computers, a network hub, and a 16-line telephone bank. The office also received an electrical wiring upgrade.

Some of that money will also be reimbursing Rev. Del Rio's church for the expenses Abounding Grace incurred while organizing the GZCTF.

One GZCTF command center has been set up in a room at Rev. Rivera's church. A second, to be stationed at Abounding Grace, is being planned. Del Rio plans to ask the AFAF for money to reimburse the continuing efforts of his church to find those might 'fall through the cracks.'

Del Rio, meanwhile, intends to continue to partner with World Vision in his lifestyle of ministry on the streets. "Lack of funds have never stopped us," he says. "This is our life, it's our call from God. But funds will help us to fulfill our call from God."