A Big Deal: Loving Kindness, One Pair at a Time

A Big Deal: Loving Kindness, One Pair at a Time

by Michael P. Evans, MDiv, PhD

It’s a misty Monday evening at UN Plaza. Cloudy skies, light rain, the usual rhythm of downtown San Francisco—people moving quickly, tents pitched in corners, the weight of a city that never really rests. In just a few minutes, San Francisco Night Ministry’s Open Sangha, our monthly Buddhist meditation service, will begin.

But before we sit in stillness, I’m handed a bag of socks.

John Brett, SFNM’s Programs Director, walks toward me carrying a plastic bag filled with brand new, long black socks. “Would you mind handing these out to folks?” he asks. “And let them know we’re starting a meditation service soon.”

Of course I say yes.

I’m joined by Esmeralda, a visiting student from the San Francisco Zen Center. Together, we set off across UN Plaza—approaching individuals with a greeting, an offer of socks, and a gentle announcement about the upcoming service. A couple of people ignore us. That’s okay. Most don’t. Most receive the socks with gratitude.

One woman—blond, middle-aged, tattooed, weathered but composed—accepts her pair and looks me in the eye.

“You have no idea how much this means here,” she says. “If you don’t have clean socks, you’re liable to get jungle rot. It’s a big deal.”

She’s right.

Trench foot—also called “jungle rot”—can happen when feet are wet for too long without proper care. It leads to painful swelling, numbness, open sores, even infection and long-term nerve damage. It’s preventable. But on the streets, prevention isn’t simple. The basic act of keeping your feet dry and warm becomes a luxury. And socks? Socks can feel like salvation.

It’s easy to think of clean socks as a small thing. But for people experiencing homelessness, they can be lifesaving. A dignity. Metta.

In Buddhist teaching, metta means loving-kindness. It’s not abstract or theoretical. It’s practiced. Offered. Extended. A mindset and an action. And here in UN Plaza, in the minutes before Open Sangha begins, it transforms into a pair of dry socks and a moment of presence.

As we finish circling UN Plaza, Esmeralda suggests we cross McAllister and keep going. We do. We distribute socks to more people, and in total we reach nearly thirty. Some say thank you. Some say nothing. Some look us in the eye and hold that look for a while. When we finally sit for Open Sangha, the service has already started. But we are arriving spiritually full—grounded by what we’ve just done together.

The meditation that follows is quiet and beautiful. A small group, gathered on chairs in the open plaza. The city continues around us—cars, footsteps, wind. But a pocket of calm emerges. And when we enter the metta meditation, it lands differently. Not just as a prayer, but as a continuation of something already begun.

“May you be safe. May you be happy. May you be healthy. May you live with ease.”

The people we met, the feet we served, the moments of connection—all returned to me during the meditation. It wasn’t charity. It was practice. A way of being in relationship. A small act that was, in fact, a big one.

Because sometimes, loving-kindness looks like clean socks.

And sometimes, the most meaningful parts of our spiritual life don’t happen after the chairs are set out and the bell is rung. Sometimes, they begin before the service does—on the curb, under a cloudy sky, with a plastic bag full of small, holy offerings.

Because Sometimes, Loving Kindness Looks Like Clean Socks.

Spiritual care often begins in unexpected places—before the service starts, on the curb, under a cloudy sky, with something as simple as a pair of socks.

For those living on the streets, socks aren’t just comfort—they’re dignity, protection, even survival. What seems small to us can mean the world to someone else.

Your gift helps us keep showing up in these ordinary-yet-holy ways. It fuels the presence of Night Ministers on the streets and care line counselors on the phones, sustains multi-faith gatherings like Open Sangha, and provides support for handing out the practical items—like socks—that carry loving-kindness from words into action.

✨ Will you join us in offering metta to our city?

Every donation, no matter the size, helps us extend care that is simple, human, and lifesaving.

Because sometimes, the most profound spiritual practices don’t happen inside a sanctuary— they begin in the streets, with love in action.