Sharpe minds

Stephen Sharpe is an important man. Or rather, he's a man who deals with large amounts of money. That much is clear before you even meet him. Ushered into the labyrinthine hallways of the St Patrick's Trust buildings, I'm waiting for Sharpe, the CEO of the Trust, to arrive. St Patrick's, once a parish church with only a skeletal congregation, is now the centre for a charity for the homeless with a growing national influence. The security here is tight and every one of a number of doors is locked and needs a special pass or combination. The pale green walls are freshly painted and modern. It feels like the outer perimeters of a business zone, or a psychiatric ward. Only the iconic images of Christ remind me that God and charity figure somewhere in this. What is clear, however, is that there is a lot of money here.

When he arrives, in sharp suit and coiffured hair - and much younger than I'd imagined - the religious pictures look strangely redundant. This is not the familiar face of the hostel worker. Neither is it the monkish image of charity incarnate that you might expect. It is the face of the professional fundraiser. And it looks a lot like your bank manager, for today, charity can be big business.

Sharpe takes me on a tour of the building at breakneck speed, and begins to tell the story of St Patrick's. I've the sense that he's told it a thousand times before to boardrooms full of businessmen. It takes away a little of the magic of the tale he's about to tell which is, nonetheless, a good one. And perhaps a little familiar at this time of year.
"It all began 18 years ago with Father Alan Sharpe, who just happens to be my father," he begins. "He didn't have any intention at that time of working with the homeless, but on a cold winter's night, a couple called Joseph and Julie turned up at the vicarage door for a cup of tea and a sandwich. That night Father Alan decided it was wrong to have such a big church as this empty with its heating turned on ready for the Sunday service and have people sleeping outside. So he let them sleep in the church." The next night they came back and the following night they brought their friends and within 12 months there were 30 or 40 people sleeping in the church, "just between the pews."

That act, in its simplicity and charity, was biblical. What it gave rise to was a thoroughly modern, professional organisation. Churches such as St Patrick's have realised that their buildings are untapped assets. When the Trust first started to take shape in the mid-1980s, its congregation had fallen to fewer than 20 members. Huge buildings were sitting empty and largely unused. Now the Trust has a consultancy arm which is involved in the redevelopment of other churches, mainly for social purposes. "The role of the modern church is evolving and we are looking at new ways of using church spaces. We have used this building to the best of our ability," says Sharpe. "Churches need to change to respond to a changing society. Possibly the Church hasn't changed as much as everybody else."

At St Patrick's, this redevelopment is massive and impressive. Half of the interior of the church building has been extensively remodelled to accommodate a night shelter, a 29-bed hostel with specialist mental health and detoxification unit and Trust offices. It's an incredible architectural feat. A complete four-story purpose-built building lies within the walls of the southern end of the church, yet all the original features of the listed building have been preserved. As we whistle around communal dining areas, in and out of lifts into self-contained flats and conference rooms, there are still towering stone pillars and stained glass windows amongst the modern. Standing on the fourth floor landing, I'm at eye-level with the top of one of these awesome windows, and it is both humbling and vertiginous.

Led into what remains of the original church, I can almost picture the Trust's humble beginnings. Despite being half its original size, it's still vast. And it's the only quiet, reverend place in the building. Elsewhere there is tremendous activity as Brighton's homeless drift in and out and as suits like Stephen meet to talk big. But here, where we stand dwarfed and humbled by this high, holy place, all is peaceful and a simple act of charity by one man feels very real. "Father Alan has a heart of gold," one resident tells me.

Beyond the hostel, community accommodation is also being purchased to provide 'move on' housing for people. But it is the Trust's innovative educational programme of learning zones that has brought the work of this Brighton charity to the attention of government ministers. "It was clear to us from very early on that there was a need to do more than provide a night shelter," Sharpe says. The scheme offers basic literacy, numeracy and IT training and St Patrick's Trust has recently won a contract to develop ten other projects of its type around the country as part of the Government's rough sleepers initiative. It has already helped those such as Lee, a resident, who says, "it is definitely a good stepping stone for anyone who happens to find themselves in the position I was in when I came here."

What's more, as a second phase to the learning zone, a 'social business' has just been started in Brighton. It's a print firm that aims to provide training that will lead to employment in the commercial sector.

Suddenly local acts are having far-reaching consequences, and it's happening right on our doorsteps.

The redevelopment of St Patrick's cost £2 million. And the Trust's projected turnover for this year is £1.6 million. This marriage of the church and big money might be uncomfortable for some. But the fact remains that there is a large amount of money available for charitable causes, if you're good at getting it. Charities they may be, but their managers can, and are handling millions of pounds. Suited men talking money in a church that shelters the homeless rouses suspicion and raises eyebrows. "There are no fat cats here," we are assured, but Sharpe is still reluctant to reveal the size of his salary. Could it be he is earning more than the £11,000 starting salary of the hostel workers he employs?

From the outside, it can start to look like the face of big business. "We are not interested in money and profit as a church. We are interested in providing for and housing homeless people, and the financial resources available to us greatly help us to do that," says Sharpe. "If you look back through the history of the Church it has always had a lot of money. At the moment they don't have a lot of cash, but they have a lot of assets."

Of course fairytales today are never straightforward. For those of you who don't believe in 'once upon a time', you might be asking questions by now. And recently, there have been speculations. There are those on the hostel circuit who say that other organisations have more professional and modern attitudes to the homeless and don't, unlike St Patrick's for example, lock their residents in the shelter at night. Some claim that staff turnover is unusually high. Others, including some residents, think that some of the staff are inexperienced and don't have the skills to deal with the problems that arise.

As for Father Alan's vision, John, a regular at the night shelter says, "The basic ethos has been lost in the quest for government funding. It used to be that the client was the most important thing. Now it's more a case of fitting criteria for funding. There are all sorts of hoops to jump through." Another resident agrees that "the founding idea was good, but now it's become a business. Father Alan has stepped back and doesn't have much to do with dealings anymore."

Yes, there are flaws in this tale, but ultimately St Patrick's is taking positive steps. At its heart is a heart of gold. But of course there is always more to do. Churches, increasingly redundant in modern secular society, are now finding a new lease of useful life in our communities and more homeless people are finding ways out of situations that can seem insurmountable.

And the future looks bright for Stephen Sharpe, who will soon be leaving the Trust "to pursue one of my many other opportunities. "I'm a development man. My role was to take [the Trust] from the tiny expression of one man's vision to an organisation that would be able to provide for a community that will long outlive us. And we are close to doing that."

Okay, Mother Theresa he's not; she lived the slum and he clearly doesn't. But St Patrick's Trust is accomplishing something. Which is more than most of us can say. Under our very noses, people around us are making a difference. What will you do?

copyright New Insight 2001

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