Every day, twice a day, Father Robert Caudill presides over the soup kitchen at All Saints Catholic Mission. Every day, dozens of homeless individuals come to the small church, seeking warm food, showers, clean clothes and kindness.
And every day, for a decade, the City of Oakland Park, a small municipality north of Fort Lauderdale, has fined Caudill $125 for operating a non-permitted soup kitchen, adding up to a debt of about $500,000.
He has no intention to pay any of it and no intention to stop feeding the poor. Not until “Jesus calls me home,” he likes to say.
On a recent afternoon, homeless South Floridians waited patiently in the pews for the priest, known as Father Bob, to wave them up to a window where volunteers hand out trays of chicken, vegetables and donuts.
A sign next to the window reads: “Religion that doesn’t help isn’t one.”
All Saints has been locked in a legal battle with Oakland Park since 2016, when Caudill first sued the city over allegedly violating his religious freedom.
The city argues that All Saints’ soup kitchen operation breaks zoning rules because the city commission rezoned the area in 2014.
After a decade of back-and-forth, All Saints is still waiting for its judgment day. Caudill’s case did go to trial in January, but city attorneys successfully had the trial dismissed before the jury could deliberate due to a missed deadline.
On Friday, Peter Mavrick, Caudill’s new attorney, filed a motion to try the case again. An Oakland Park spokesperson declined to comment on the lawsuit.
Caudill feels good about his chances if the case goes back to court, but he’s worried about what may happen if a Broward jury doesn’t agree with him.
Though he has “never been afraid in my life,” Caudill said he is fearful now, waking up at night in a cold sweat at the thought people going hungry if his soup kitchen closes.
But his attorney told him he feels confident.
“I have to trust the lawyer and God,” Caudill said.
A decade of legal drama Shortly after All Saints Catholic Mission opened in 1990, Caudill heard a knock on the window one night.
A hungry man was there asking for food, so Caudill handed him a Coke and peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The man later brought hungry friends to the church.
All Saints’ soup kitchen was born.
All Saints, which is not affiliated with the Archdiocese of Miami, operated its soup kitchen at 3460 Powerline Road until 1995.
The church expanded its program and moved the soup kitchen to a nearby building, where it operated for 20 years.
In 2014, the city adopted ordinances to re-zone the area where All Saints’ properties were, creating the Powerline Road Zoning District “to engender redevelopment along the Powerline Road corridor through the implementation of specific regulations,” according to court documents.
“I used to think, ‘No, people wouldn’t sell us out for 30 pieces of silver. They wouldn’t sell us out for money.’ But no, that’s true,” Caudill said, referencing the payment Judas received for betraying Jesus. “Every time I get something from a friend of mine in the city or people that talk to me from the city, they say, ‘Yeah, it’s development. They want you out. It doesn’t look good. Developers won’t come there.’”
The rezoning meant All Saints’ 20-year-old soup kitchen was no longer permitted.
In September 2015, Caudill moved the soup kitchen back to its original location and sold the other building.
“They had told me I had to stop feeding people, so I said, ‘OK, I’m going to move everything into the church,’” Caudill said.
But he still wasn’t in the clear.
The city has been fining him ever since.
Caudill first sued the City of Oakland Park in June 2016, alleging that the city’s fines and efforts to shutter the soup kitchen violated his and the church’s religious freedom under the Florida Religious Freedom Restoration Act.
The original complaint was dismissed, so he filed again. That complaint was also dismissed. And so he filed again.
Court documents over the years reveal elements of both sides’ arguments.
An amended complaint Caudill filed in 2019 argues that his church feeds the poor and homeless “in the exercise in his firmly held religious convictions and in compliance with the express dictates of the Holy Bible.”
The complaint includes a chapter from the Bible from Deuteronomy 15:7-11: “You shall open wide your hand to your brother, to the need and to the poor, in your land.”
The city fired back in its motion to dismiss, arguing that is not part of Caudill’s religion to feed the homeless: “While it may be inconvenient for the plaintiffs to have to move their soup kitchen to another property, it does not present a substantial burden on the exercise of religion under FRFRA as a soup kitchen may be operated elsewhere in the city, or other methods of feeding the poor and homeless may be utilized as to not violate the city’s zoning ordnance i.e. donating to a food bank or another soup kitchen.”
The lawyer who was originally handling Caudill’s case dropped out due to illness.
After hearing about Caudill’s struggle to find a new lawyer, Mavrick offered his services pro bono in August.
“This guy called me out of the blue,” Caudill said. “That has to be the hand of God, right?”
Mavrick said he had donated to Caudill’s soup kitchen in the past and admired how much Caudill cares about the homeless, a population most people either treat poorly or ignore entirely.
“I do have a strong faith, but I did not do this type of work,” Mavrick said. “But I felt badly they’re screwing over these people.”
Jumping into Caudill’s 10-year-old case has been complicated. It’s unusual for a case like this to have dragged on for so long, Mavrick said, but that appears to be due to the previous lawyer’s health.
The case did finally go to trial in front of a jury in January, but city attorneys argued that Caudill’s previous lawyer never appealed the results of a 2016 administrative hearing in which a special master decided that All Saints violated city ordinances.
The judge agreed, and the trial was thrown out, Mavrick said.
But, Mavrick said, it’s still not over.
If a judge approves the motion filed on Friday, the case will go back to court. If not, Mavrick said he’ll appeal.
“That’s the hand I’m dealt,” Mavrick said. “I’m not going to give up.”
‘The true spirit of Jesus’
Caudill’s calling to feed the poor came from childhood in Oklahoma. His family had a home in a Cherokee Nation town.
The local parish was very poor, Caudill remembered, and the church itself was just one large room, similar to his own church today.
The priest there would hold mass and then feed people. “I thought, ‘Oh my gosh, this is the true spirit of Jesus,’” Caudill said. “He wasn’t in a synagogue all day. He was out with the poor and helping people and healing them.”
Church attendees are familiar with Caudill’s fight with the city.
A television by the front door next to a statue of the Virgin Mary plays clips of Caudill’s past TV interviews about the lawsuit.
Ahrea Kellerman and her husband, who usually come to the church once a day to eat, said they couldn’t disagree more with the city’s efforts. “They’re good people. They’re trying to do the right thing,” Kellerman said. “They’re helping people who can’t help themselves.”
Bill Ledger, who came to the church a recent afternoon for lunch, said the church has provided him with a lot more than just a warm meal.
He got a clean new shirt, socks and a place to temporarily park his car to sleep safely at night.
He shared some extra chicken he got from the church with his dogs Scrappy and Scavenger.
The city’s fines baffled him.
“I just don’t understand why they’d want to shut that down. It makes no damn sense,” Ledger said. “I think they don’t understand he’s giving hand ups, not hand outs.”