A Loan of Hope – The Interim Disability Program

It is almost Thanksgiving, a time for reflecting with close family and friends. Our reflections center on what we are thankful for, especially as we look on our many blessings over this past year.

One specific District program that is especially important to me is the Interim Disability Assistance (IDA) Program. IDA provides a small ($270) income each month to residents waiting the long months (even years) between their initial disability application and approval from the Social Security Administration. Clients I worked with applying for disability are unable to work, and thus depend on this program to have their basic necessities met. What is even better about this program is that the Social Security Administration repays the District government when a client receives a favorable decision.

When a special client of mine, Mr. S., was approved for his disability income after seeking legal representation at Bread for the City, he explained to me how crucial IDA had been to his stabilization. Chronically homeless and suffering from a long litany of impairments ranging from HIV to chronic leg pain to severe depression, IDA provided a “loan of hope” to Mr. S. He was proud to say that he was able to repay that loan, allowing someone else to have hope as they waited for their disability decision.

Another story that sticks with me is Anthony Brown, who was interviewed for Beyond Bread this spring when the Council made $6 million in cuts to the program.

Our city has already cut $100 million from the safety net programs that people like Anthony depend on. Rather than more cuts, let’s ask more of those who have suffered the least in the recession. Right now, DC’s top tax rate (8.5%) starts at $40,000 a year. An increase of one percentage point in the rate on the highest-earning 5% (those with income above $200,000) would bring in at least $65 million in new revenue. It’s a small contribution for high-income households, roughly equal to the price of a large coffee each day.

As you reflect on what you’re thankful for, take some time to consider what changes you would make in your budget, to ensure our city can invest in an economic recovery that includes everyone.

If you care about this issue, send an email to Chairman Gray and ask him to take a balanced approach and protect the programs you care about.

As we celebrate Thanksgiving together with our family and friends, I know I’ll be holding Bread for the City, Mr. S. and Anthony Brown, the IDA Program, and the SOS campaign close to my heart. I am thankful for IDA’s impact on the residents of DC, and for the ways Mr. S, Bread, and the SOS campaign had blessed me this year.

Searching for Meaning

I treasure those moments when you are reading for school and you suddenly find yourself captivated by the author’s reflections. Indeed, this was the ongoing experience I had when reading Jerome Baggett’s book, Sense of the Faithful, documenting how American Catholics today are living and negotiating their faith. In his rich ethnographic portrayal, Baggett eloquently describes the many ways Catholics are taking their faith seriously and grappling with the realities of a complex world. Particularly resonating to me was the following quote:

Though we may have lost the strongly prescribed identities that largely characterized tightly bounded societies of the past, in their place has emerged a generalized concern for individual authenticity. This language of authenticity reflects people’s still unextinguished desire to do the often difficult work of discovering a sense of meaningfulness that is now not so readily attainable (65).

Yes, it is difficult to discover a sense of meaningfulness, but it is inscribed on our hearts and offers us fulfillment and joy. It is this sense of meaningfulness that I crave in my own life – in my relationships, in my work, in my faith, and in my daily desire to follow God. It truly is an unextinguished desire for me.

As a former Jesuit Volunteer, I have spent time in the past reflecting on the writings of Dorothy Day, specifically from her book, The Long Loneliness. In her book, at the end, she writes, “We have all know the long loneliness and we have learned that the only solution is love and that love comes with community.”

I think that we find our sense of meaningfulness when we have a strong sense of community, one that strives to teach us authenticity. For, it is true, we learn how to love in community¸ and we are able to search for meaning. When I think back on my experiences – my faith-filled loving family, my still treasured friends from high school, the memories and community I experienced through Gonzaga University and the relationships I still hold, my experience with JVC in the District of Columbia, and now, here at Loyola Chicago, I can’t helped but think that Day is right – community has taught me what it means to love, and has made the “difficult work of discovering a sense of meaningfulness” that much easier.

It’s funny when you’re working on that slow literature review, when you’re looking out your window drinking your morning cup of coffee in the midst of our daily lives as graduate students, and you are suddenly struck by a passage from the literature you are reading. No – it’s not just relevant literature for your research proposal, but rather, it’s nurturing for your own self growth. It’s an affirmation of that Jesuit phrase that is etched into any Jesuit alumni’s heart, that yes, you can find God in all things. And it’s a reminder to continue to trust in God, and to continue sipping that cup of coffee, working on that literature proposal, know to always, as Teihard de Chardin, S.J. reminds us,

Above all, trust in the slow work of God.

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Works Cited

Baggett, Jerome P. 2009. Sense of the Faithful: How American Catholics Live Their Faith. New York: Oxford University Press.

Returning to Washington

During this trip to Washington, I didn’t see the White House, the National Mall, any Smithsonians, or even the dome of the Capital. I only once saw the Washington Monument, from on a hill a couple miles away. It was not the tourist visit to Washington, but a visit back to one’s home. It was a visit full of relationships, full of conversations, and full of reminiscing.

A good friend of mine believes that many of our life experiences are shared with people we care about and fade into the past. We find meaning in our lives by pointing to these reminiscable shared experiences, which in turn shape how we act in the present, and how we form and picture our future. These reminiscable shared experiences cause us to experience community in a powerful way as we reflect on who we are as individuals journeying through life, making sense of who we are.

This trip to Washington indulged me in the joys of reminiscable shared experiences. Looking back on our community experience, we laughed at the ridiculous stories that formed us as a community, we smiled on the challenges that pushed us farther than we could imagined, and we thanks God and one another that we are who we are today, because of those experiences. I couldn’t help but think, you are on to something my friend, could I have remembered this beautiful stories and laughed the way I did if it wasn’t with one another? Perhaps not. Perhaps they would have been forgotten, and erased forever. And yet, isn’t it beautiful that together we can return together and remember our experiences together and find joy and comfort in that experience?

Perhaps more beautiful is the fact that we reflect, we grow, we laugh, we cry, and we continue with our lives – we turn back to those times, and we allow them to shape who we are today and who we will be together. And we are thankful for those experiences, because they are woven into our existence, and are imprinted in our worldviews.

While I didn’t see the sites one typically goes to see in Washington, I saw what I believe might just be the more profound sites of the District of Columbia:

Vinoteca – a place of many conversations over glasses of wine, and a place we returned to have another laugh and another glass of wine

Himalyan Heritage – another special place where over Nepalese food, many conversations were had with one special friend – conversations that I still think about, and that still shape me today.

Starbucks on Georgia and Bryant – a place that had many coffee dates, that was frequented on the way to work, and that hold a special place in my heart.

Cleveland Park – a neighborhood where I went canvassing for change, that showed me the power of talking with others about our clients, and taught me a lesson in what it means to see ones heart be changed right in front of you

Azi’s – that small café that many Bread for the City friends spent many times at.

Pittango – a place where many conversations were had, not with coffee or wine, but with some gelato that rivals that of Florence, Italy.

130 Bryant – a home that was more than a home, but was a community

Bread for the City – a place that words cannot describe – a place that truly taught me accompaniment, a place that on the one hand, introduced me to the profound despair that is the result of our unequal society, and on the other hand, the joy that comes with knowing and being in relationship with the poor.

Indeed, these sites were instrumental sites that today are the keys of our reminiscable shared experiences in Washington. We returned to them because they are symbols of who we are – symbols of what Washington means to us, and symbols that fill our hearts with joy and renew our spirits. Yes – you were right my friend – these reminisciable shared experiences truly do have a special power.