Camden AIDS ministry, a longtime sanctuary for many, is closing

When Susan Piliro helped start the Francis House AIDS ministry in Camden two decades ago, it wasn't unusual to lose a dozen clients in a year.

"Once we had three funerals in two days. Kenny and Edna were on the same day, and the next day we went to Dennis'," Piliro, 66, recalls. "I had to go to grief counseling myself."

So far in 2015, not a single name has been added to the 100 inscribed on the Francis House memorial at St. Anthony of Padua Church in Cramer Hill.

But tears are abundant nevertheless, because the lay ministry - which offers a hearty lunch and even heartier fellowship three days a week - is set to end Tuesday. The parish can no longer afford the $60,000 annual cost, which includes Piliro's $24,000 salary.

She hopes to begin serving a monthly lunch in the fall at another church in Camden.

"My heart is breaking, but I don't want any boo-hooing. I want to highlight how many people we have helped, and how many people have helped me," says the Cherry Hill mother of six.

Piliro, who spent most of her life in Cramer Hill, is the sort of salt-of-the-earth lady who has a "Hi, hon" for everyone. She calls her clients "my people"; often, they call her "Mom."

Take Roland V. Brown, a maintenance worker who takes two buses from his Sicklerville home to Francis House. After lunch, he often works on evocative little aluminum-foil sculptures.

"If it wasn't for this program," says Brown, 52, an HIV patient since 2006, "a lot of people wouldn't have no outlet."

The parish, a longtime neighborhood anchor, is staffed by Franciscan Friars from the Holy Name Province in New York; the order's patron saint was the inspiration for the AIDS ministry.

"St. Francis reached out to the people who were cast aside," says the Rev. Hugh Macsherry, pastor of St. Anthony's.

"Who did Francis embrace? The lepers. When we started this back in 1996, people with AIDS were the lepers," says Piliro, who lost two of her brothers to the disease in the early 1990s.

In the dining room at Francis House - a former convent in the rear of the church's active campus at 28th and River - a memorial quilt labeled "Never can say goodbye" hangs on a wall. Volunteers and clients get lunch ready in the adjacent kitchen, where Piliro will soon ring a little brass handbell to announce "in circle."

That's when everyone will join hands for the praying and hymn-singing that precede the breaking of bread at Francis House.

Tuna sandwiches, salad, and slices of watermelon are on the menu the day I visit. But when hot food is served, there's a good chance it's been homemade by parishioners of St. Mary of the Lakes in Medford.

"We probably give them about 80 casseroles every six to eight weeks. We call it 'Casseroles for Camden,' " says Linda Xerri, coordinator of youth ministry at St. Mary's. "I'm very, very sad [the AIDS ministry] is closing."

Over the last 10 years, the program has involved hundreds of volunteers at St. Mary's, including elderly parishioners and parish school students preparing for their confirmation.

Other Francis House volunteers, such as crafts teacher Donna Civa, 69, belong to St. Anthony's parish and live in Cramer Hill. Still others are Franciscan Volunteer Ministers, who live and work for a year in Camden.

"You come here, and you're one with everybody. There's no black or white, no HIV. . . . It's beautiful," says Andrew Staiti, 23, of Boston, a Franciscan volunteer who has been in the city since last August.

Piliro can recall the first lunch on June 18, 1996: a bunch of eager volunteers and just two clients.

"People didn't want to come out as having HIV," she says, adding that "at least 500 people, male and female, all colors, from all over South Jersey" have since been welcomed into Francis House.

"It's like one big family," says Helen, a longtime client who asks that I protect her privacy by not using her last name. "There's so much encouragement and love here. It fills you up with a lot of hope."

"This is my second home, and I'm going to miss it," says Belita Mitchell, 49, of Pennsauken, who was diagnosed in 1993.

Back then, AIDS was a death sentence. Antiviral and other drugs have long since rendered the disease more manageable, but the Francis House folks say it's still a complicated condition.

HIV also can be isolating. So the chance to share lunch with friends who are living with it means a lot. And when Piliro rings her bell, it seems like only seconds before everyone is gathered hand-in-hand around the serving table in the kitchen.

"All right," Piliro says as the group launches into a spirited verse of "Praise God From Whom All Blessings Flow."

The blended strength of their voices is powerful.

I've never heard the song, and anyway I can't sing and have come here with a notebook. I'm just an observer.

But as Staiti closes the "in circle" moment by leading the group in the Serenity Prayer, for one sweet moment we're all in this together.