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The Courage of Detroit

The Courage of Detroit

This was Christmas night. In the basement of a church off an icy street in downtown Detroit, four dozen homeless men and women sat at tables. The smell of cooked ham wafted from the kitchen. The pastor, Henry Covington, a man the size of two middle linebackers, exhorted the people with a familiar chant.

“I am somebody,” he yelled.

“I am somebody!” they repeated.

“Because God loves me!”

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