By Brian Levin
Michael Stoops, known as the American Mother Teresa, was a beloved advisory board member of the Center for the Study of Hate & Extremism for over a decade. While his work sometimes involved interactions with powerful folks like senators, Pulitzer Prize winners or actors, he was most at home with those who had none, who revered him for his indefatigable love and dedication to them. He wasn’t simply an aimless pied piper, but rather a blessed figure who intertwined his boundless energy with a hardened resolve to forge specific policies that literally meant life or death to those who others would just as soon forget.
For someone who lived so simply and who worked out of a church, he arranged incredible opportunities for those of us, like me, who wanted to protect homeless people but didn’t quite know how to go about it. I would get calls from him saying “I helped arrange for you to go to Texas next week to testify at their statehouse and I know you’ll do great!” or “come right away to D.C. to present our data to the Senate.” Whether it be those of us who simply didn’t have his exceptional grassroots organizing skills or those without shelter, he was always there to elevate all of us in his orbit, without even a drop of pretense.
I’ll never forget how after I testified before legislators I would get surrounded by homeless people, clergy and their advocates, who would tell me horrible stories of their abuse while on the streets, and how this unassuming, but tenacious fellow in Washington and his network of local angels would come to their aid. When I’d say I was friends with him, the response was as if I knew a rock star, albeit an extraordinarily humble one.
In my faith, Judaism, there is a belief that “whoever saves a life, it is considered as if he saved an entire world” and Michael and his surviving dedicated colleagues have done that many times over. Mother Teresa once remarked, that to her, the homeless and poor were to be viewed as “Jesus in disguise,” as all G-d’s children were entitled to love and dignity having been made in the Lord’s image. And that is exactly how Michael Stoops lived every day of his life. Indeed, his life’s mission could be summed up by how Jesus counseled his flock, “[W]hatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.”
And while he has now been passed to G-d’s hand, his work has been passed to ours, who loved and admired him so very much. G-dspeed Michael, G-dspeed.
Social Worker
By Julie Turner
I first met Michael nearly 30 years ago when I was registering people who are homeless to vote. We had a lot in common in terms of social work practice; we both believed that empowerment begins at the first point of contact.
To me, Michael was the best social worker I have ever met. His work defines what it means to be a social worker: to change the system that perpetuates poverty while simultaneously helping someone find or take back their power through resources, advocacy and brokering a menu of services.
Michael worked a lifetime changing broken systems and giving others a voice. For someone who worked nationally and was well known in his own right, he always had time for people needing help. He listened patiently to their stories and helped each person sort out whatever appeared to be in their way. He was empathic and kind. He helped people search for solutions based on their needs and encouraged self advocacy and creativity.
I will always remember Michael’s essence, his commitment to tackling underlying issues of poverty and the ways in which he worked with the poorest of the poor. Michael is a credit to the profession. He is who all social workers should aspire to be. I miss you every day, Michael.
He Was [a] Present
By Patty Fugere
Michael truly gave his life to the movement to end homelessness. He combined strategic thinking and passionate advocacy with extraordinary humility and deep respect for the community members whom our organizations serve. He was creative. He was tireless. Perhaps most important of all, he was present. He was Michael.
We shared decades working on parallel paths that I wish had intersected more regularly. It was an honor when our paths did cross, especially to be able to work with him on D.C.’s Homeless Memorial Day vigil. While those days are now gone, I will continue to draw inspiration from Michael’s unyielding commitment to housing justice.
Living Legacy
Michael was an inspiration for me and so many others. He was kind, gentle, and inspiring in word, deed, and action. Without his influence, I would not be in this line of work today. He will be missed, but his memory will live on in the inspiring work being done to end homelessness across D.C. and the country.
