Copyright The New York Times
Before daylight in the cold morning air, nearly 100 people stood bundled in hats and coats, their empty carts parked outside an Upper Manhattan church pantry. A line had begun forming on the sidewalk outside the Church of the Good Shepherd, a Catholic church in the Inwood neighborhood, at least an hour before the pantry was scheduled to open Saturday. The group of people gathered, which included many older and middle-aged adults, came seeking canned goods and fresh produce like green onions, pears and cranberries, fearful that their refrigerators and cabinets could soon be empty as it remained unclear whether the food stamp program would continue to be funded. As the government shutdown passed the one-month mark and the Trump administration said it would make only partial payments in November to sustain the program — known as Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program, or SNAP — roughly 42 million people were at risk of receiving food aid late and in reduced amounts, including nearly 1.8 million New York City residents. Stepping in to be a lifeline for families felt like second nature for some churches in New York City. “We’ve always done this,” said Father George Sears, pastor of the Church of Good Shepherd, who was bagging food in the hallway with volunteers at 7 a.m. on Saturday, preparing to feed over 450 people. Many religious institutions have continued to make it their mission to provide food and meals to those in need, even as membership and attendance at services have declined. In many cases, more people line up for their pantries than sit in their pews. Pantries have long filled the gap for people who don’t qualify for food stamps or whose benefits don’t stretch far enough. The threat of reductions or funding delays has put the programs under new strain. Met Council, the largest Jewish nonprofit organization in the country, serves more than 200 locations across New York City, and last week, it saw a 17 percent increase in turnout and is preparing for a 40 percent boost this week, according to the organization’s chief executive, David G. Greenfield. In New York City, there are about 600 food pantries scattered across the five boroughs. Gilford Monrose, executive director of Faith-Based and Community Partnerships in the mayor’s office, said at least 90 percent of those pantries are run by either a religious organization or a nonprofit connected to a place of worship. “As pie is to America, I would say food pantry would be to churches,” Mr. Monrose said. “Especially houses of worship in low-income neighborhoods.” In Inwood, Ama Kofi, 51, stepped in line at 7:45 a.m. with her two neighbors from the Bronx. Ms. Kofi said the church pantry, which is open weekly, eases her anxiety about putting food on the table for her husband and three children. “It doesn’t stress me because I know if I come here, I’ll get something,” she said. In the two years she has used the pantry, Ms. Kofi has seen a rise in the number of people who need food. “There are so many people that come here that don’t qualify for food stamps but they need it,” she said, holding her ticket, No. 219. Paul Kwon, the food pantry coordinator, said the pantry, which collaborates with Cabrini Immigrant Services, helps more than 400 people each week. He said the government’s reluctance to sustain SNAP made him “furious.” The pantry he leads is trying to stay afloat after a $20,000 loss in funding from the Federal Emergency Management Agency, after the Trump administration took back $80 million that New York received for migrants. The reduction has led the pantry to cut back, he said, and clients are noticing that “the bags aren’t as full.” Mr. Kwon said the pantry spent around $4,600 a week on food assistance, funded by donors and federal, state and local aid. With demand high, the pantry has relied more on community fund-raisers and food drives. As of this year around 35 percent of people who use their pantry are SNAP recipients. Because of the growing need, his pantry will stay open for an extra hour from 7 a.m. to 10 a.m. starting on Nov. 15. According to the Food Research and Action Center, 39 percent of children, 20 percent of seniors and 10 percent of disabled people across the country depend on SNAP to put food on their tables each month. Alixa Cruz, 70, a retired office worker, walked with a cane from her public housing apartment to the pantry at St. Peter’s Chelsea, an Episcopal church. Ms. Cruz is not a member of St. Peter’s, but comes to find reasonable nutritious foods that would be outside her budget otherwise. In a year, she went from seeing the funds on her SNAP card drop from $300 to a bit under $190 a month, but said every little bit still counts. “SNAP helps me because you cannot live in the city,” Ms. Cruz said. “Everything is expensive.” In the Bronx, Lowell Murray, 48, a former contractor, sat on a black stool he brought from home while waiting for the Throggs Neck Community Alliance’s food giveaway to start at the Church of St. Benedict, a Catholic church on Otis Avenue. Mr. Murray, who said he was not able to work for health reasons, said his neighborhood pantry was a resource for healthy food that could be “expensive” even with SNAP. Angela Torres, executive director of the Throggs Neck Community Alliance, said there was already an intense need for food aid in the Bronx, which has the highest percentage of food insecurity among city boroughs. The pantry serves roughly 450 people weekly, she said, and recipients are on edge. “It already wasn’t enough,” Ms. Torres said. “Without SNAP, they are desperate.” In Inwood, Ethlyn Colbourne, 81, who is retired and relies on her children, said all she could do was wait to check her SNAP card for funds. “Maybe they will change their mind or something will happen,” Ms. Colbourne said, pushing her cart slowly. “I’m just waiting.”
