Volunteering in Chicago

It’s no secret that I have been missing Bread for the City since I left in August. While I left six months ago, I still think about Bread for the City daily, about memories with clients, with coworkers, and with my JVC house. I am ruined for life and can never look at the world the same way. Indeed, I have written about this experience many times and have referred to the word, accompaniment. My time at Gonzaga trained me to strive to accompany others in the service we do, to recognize how we are mutually indebted, and to help us realize that we aren’t heroes in the work we do. And, the attorneys at Bread for the City taught me this same lesson day by day when I would meet with our clients. In fact, I believe my own viewpoint shifted as I watched myself understand what it means to truly be in relationships with others, and to suspend my own hero complex.

This repositioning of my own viewpoints has left me craving relationships with clients. Graduate school can be isolated, and my days are often full of me in my apartment reading sociological books and articles. I love my work and find a different type of fulfillment in it. Yet, because I feel my viewpoint seems to be with the client of Bread for the City, it is sometimes hard to always know how to juggle a life that is now focused purely on my own academic development. I was glad when a fellow friend in graduate school suggested we start volunteering and we found a program affiliated with Loyola. We signed up to go once a week with other Loyola students to a local soup kitchen. I became excited with this new opportunity to try and be in relationship with clients and to leave academia for a couple of hours.

I have to admit, being away from Bread for the City now for six months, I found that I was nervous about my accompaniment skills. Bread for the City gave me the opportunity to practice them forty plus hours each week; in addition, I would go home to a house full of others trying to practice and dinner conversation was frequently about how to be more present with our clients. Not doing this for six months left me nervous about my own abilities and I found myself nervous and anxious at our service placement tonight.

Beginning a new service placement is always difficult and uncomfortable, especially when trying to practice accompaniment rather than service as a heroic deed. We arrived to a shelter that looked nothing like Miriam’s Kitchen, the place I was used to in D.C. The walls were painted a pale yellow that did not emulate feelings of glowing sunshine, but rather of mediocrity. We awkwardly stood around until we were told to just hang out in the kitchen while the guests set up the tables.

The next step made me feel joyous as we were instructed to simply sit with guests. I was struck with how difficult accompaniment is initially. While the guests I sat with were friendly, I found myself unsure what to share of myself. What questions should I ask? How can I be open and honest, but not offensive? How can I talk without displaying my privilege so candidly? I found it was easiest for me to ask questions about the city, as I am new here. I asked Johnny about where he grew up and where his favorite places were, and we laughed at how cold I was in the snow. Ok, perhaps this is an entry into that accompaniment is about.

We then were told to come help serve the meal, and I must admit, this made my heart sick. The director, probably not maliciously, announced our group name, and the group of guests applauded for our “generosity of time.” Heroism replaced accompaniment as now, our “sacrifice” is paraded to make us feel appreciated. Is this what service should be about?

We lined up to serve the meal – I was horrified to see such a undignified meal: white rice not cooked adequately, pork in a sauce that is mostly grease, beans in a gruel looking dish with hot dogs, and bread that looks like it is the cheapest hamburger quality the supermarket sells. No, this is not the dinner of Miriam’s, where Steve spends time perfecting the meals so that the guests can have the most dignifying meal. This isn’t Miriam’s Kitchen, where Adam and Kierstin conduct outreach to guests, making artwork and sharing coffee and laughs.

No, this is not accompaniment. This is white guilt repackaged as charity, as a heroism done, a pat on the back for helping the homeless.

If it weren’t enough, as we were ready to leave, the guests applauded us, to once again, give us a trophy to stroke our egos and inform us, that yes, we are actually superior, generous, wealthy, and perfect citizens.

Where does this leave us in the interaction? Certainly not mutually indebted. Rather, I have become the hero whose charity is paraded for all to see. And the guest as “other” has become reinforced and solidified. I am able to leave this hell to return to my luxurious life of entitlement. I can feel good about this too, for I have given to “the homeless.” And the other is left to continue a life of oppression.

And I have signed up to participate in this week after week for the next semester.

But yet – it doesn’t seem right to quit. Surely, perhaps, accompaniment and dignity can happen if our group works at it. Perhaps the ideal models of Bread for the City and Miriam’s Kitchen will never be actualized again. But perhaps, I need to strive to live this model so that others can see its power in building kinship with one another.

It’s not time to give up hope, but to remember to be faithful and continue growing toward a vision of simply us.

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Ideas and context, as always, were taken from these sources:

Ausland, A. (2005). Staying for tea: Five principles for the community service volunteer. TheGlobal Citizen 2 pp. 5-15.

Boyle, Gregory, SJ. (2005). The voices of those who sing. Spiritus5:1, 79-87.

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.

Reflections on Amiel

“The stationary condition is the beginning of the end” – Henri Frederic Amiel.

A few months ago, this quote appeared in our house on the side of a magazine. Since then, I have seen it often and been pondering its meaning and relevance in my life. Perhaps it has provoked an inner stirring in me instantly because it’s the end of my year as a Jesuit Volunteer. I am preparing to leave Washington, to travel to Chicago, and to begin a new life in my work at Loyola University Chicago.

Does it strike me because I perhaps have done all the growing I can for this year? That is certainly not true, for I’ve often found most growth happens after the experience. It happens when we take our experience, and we translate it into tangible goals for our lifestyle. It happens because we reflect, we discuss with our closest friends and family, and we discern its meaning and impact on us.

When something becomes stationary, it is no longer migratory or changing. It has a fixed position, and it remains in the same spot.

Am I in a stationary condition now? Are things not changing, fixed in one spot? While I have no context for Amiel’s quote, I suspect it has struck a strong chord with me because I perhaps have felt my life become stationary over these past couple of months. We have established our routine as a house – we have figured out how to save money, how make our food budget stretch farther and farther each week, and have found ease in the comfortability of our relationships with one another. We know our faults and know the blessings that each of us bring to one another.

Looking broader into the values of JVC, I know that I’ve become quite stationary in my job, my understanding of simplicity, and my faith. Though I still love my work and could continue finding fulfillment in my interactions with clients and coworkers, it has become stationary. In terms of simple living, I no longer find myself challenging how I live, or how we as a community live. And, in my faith, I have come to a routine that seems easy and does not give much additional growth.

Perhaps this is the key word – growth. When something is stationary, it isn’t growing. But – that’s not the right way to look at my JVC experience. For I am still growing in relationships – relationships in my house, my work, and my broader D.C. community. And, I am grappling with inequality, with racism, with fear, with our common American values each day as I walk into Bread for the City. I am still challenged by my interactions.

I think Amiel’s quote has reemerged in my reflections because something did become stationary, despite some growth that I still may experience. And, in that stationary state, I think Amiel was signaling that the end is soon – that it will be soon time to allow my life to change. And it is true. I am essentially done with my work at Bread for the City. I am saying my goodbyes in D.C. and preparing myself for our closing retreat, and really, for a vacation to Washington State and a move to Chicago, where life will not be stationary.

But what I grapple with now is how to strike the balance between allowing oneself to continue to always grow, and yet become comfortable – to establish relationships and a sense of normalcy without falling into a completely stationary state.

Perhaps then, when we are really living, we never reach the stationary condition, but only get close. It is like a curve that begins dramatically and begins to have a smaller slope as time goes by. It is not a parabola – the growth never reaches a point of regression; rather, it continue to increase and grow, but its growth becomes slower and approaches a state of stationary condition.

Is that what has happened here? Have I found myself experience less and less growth, or rather growth that is lower as this year has happened?

Perhaps. Perhaps we aren’t capable of reaching a purely stationary condition? Perhaps because I value growth, I can get close but can’t reach it.

Perhaps that is why leaving is so painful. I am still growing in my interactions with my housemates. I still love going to work each day. I still feel a sense of connection to Washington, and to the clients at Bread for the City.

But perhaps because the growth has slowed, perhaps that’s my equivalent of a stationary condition. And as Amiel says, it’s a sign. It’s the beginning of the end.

Alas, it is true. The end is in sight. The end of this experience, and the beginning of my reflections into how to take this experience and make it forever part of my lifestyle.

Experience vs. Lifestyle

In less than one month, I am boarding a plane back to Seattle for a short vacation before heading to Chicago. In many ways, it seems unreal to think the year has gone by so rapidly. And yet, as I look back on many reflections, many conversations, and many thoughts I have had this year, the year becomes a rich pool of experiences that have shaped my perspectives and helped me grow in my understanding of society and myself.

The word experience stands out to me, in part because of an ongoing conversation I have been having with my good friend Liz. Looking at her own service experience in Georgia, she asserts, “Jubilee has taught me that I am not looking for good experiences anymore; rather, I am looking for ways to live the lifestyle I am looking for. It is not enough to have independent good experiences – but rather, it is time to live the lifestyle I want to have.”

Experience – a particular instance of personally encountering or undergoing something; all that is perceived, understood, and remembered.

Lifestyle – the habits, attitudes, tastes, moral standards, economic level, etc… that together constitute the mode of living of an individual or group; a way of life or style of living that reflects the attitudes and values of a person or group.

The Jesuit Volunteer Corps has been a one-year experience. Working at Bread for the City has given me experience, and has been a certain type of experience – a type of radically opening my understanding of the United States, of stretching my perspectives on race, economic inequality, and injustice. It has been an experience of learning a richer version of accompaniment, one that is sustained through longer term relationships with our clients.

The Jesuit Volunteer Corps has been an experience of living in a community of other Jesuit Volunteers – a community where we are interdependent, where we share all the money we have. It has been an experience in joy and challenge, an experience of sacrificing and of reflecting on what is actually pertinent to who we are and what is periphery.

The Jesuit Volunteer Corps is an experience in simplicity – in attempting to live on a quantity of money closer to what our clients might live on. It is an experience of lessening what we have, because we as more privileged members of society can make the choice to do so. It is an experience of developing a consciousness of the ways we impact the world, and then trying to lessen that impact.

The Jesuit Volunteer Corps is an experience of living faith, of reflecting on how our faith compels us to act, to work for justice. In this, it is an experience of dissonance, both inside of us, and around us. This dissonance is a challenge that we reflect on – with it, we discern the differences in faith perspectives in our community, in our churches, and in our work. The experience challenges us to either confirm or condemn what we believe, to strengthen and nurture, or to break open and confront. Our faith is innately individual; the experience calls us to find the communal elements and to share that faith with one another. It is a challenge; it is not always fun and easy, but it is life-giving and sustaining.

So this is the experience – the one year experience of the Jesuit Volunteer Corps. It is what I have perceived and understood from what I have encountered this year.

But as Liz points out, it is not enough to have these experiences in our lives. Liz and I are blessed enough to be able to point to many experiences that have been transformational. But what is the sum of these transformational experiences? Do we float to yet another transformational experience? Or do we take the sum of these experiences and make a lifestyle out of them?

Looking back on my year as a Jesuit Volunteer, I have been reflecting on how my experience as a JV will shape the lifestyle I would like to live. Perhaps easiest to describe is my pledge to incorporate aspects of simple living into my lifestyle. Challenged by the ideas of my community, my recollections of my childhood, and the experience as a whole, it seems much more practical to live a simple lifestyle. Of course, this year has forced me to reconsider and discern the purchases I make, and to truly consider need vs. want. But it has also made me reflect on what I am eating and the overall impact on the world I live in. Part of my lifestyle will continue to keep discerning what ways I want to live simply environmentally.

My experience compels me to want to continue to live a life where I am sharing my faith with others, and living with a sense of community. Returning to a previous reflection, I think the sense of community I take away is a community in which I feel invested – a community where I feel grounded and where I am in a circle of others who care about intentionality and who are committed to growth. Despite me not returning to a formal community setting, I know that I will continue to live this value in the relationship I share with my closest friends, and the ways I invest myself in my community, church, and city.

Finally, I cannot imagine my lifestyle without a commitment to social justice, and it is perhaps in this context that I see the others merge into one lifestyle. Working at Bread for the City has shown me the power of working for justice in a way that is life-giving and sustaining. I cannot imagine my understanding of the world, of inequality, and of humanity without taking into context my time here. I see my faith lived out in my connections with my clients and my understandings of the theories I learned in school, as well as my readings of the Gospel. I understand why it is important to live simply and to be intentional with money when I see the disparities between our clients and those living in Georgetown and Capitol Hill. I feel a sense of authenticity and purpose when I walk to work, and smile at the people I pass by in my neighborhood. It is the aggregate feeling of all of these that make me know that it is more important to work for justice than it is to be wealthy. I cannot imagine a lifestyle that is not working for justice and positive social change.

In many ways, the idea I have about my lifestyle is quite vague and needs continued reflection. But I suppose we can’t just have one idea of lifestyle. For if that is true, we become stagnant and begin to lose our sense of intentionality. I guess this is start as I continue to discern what my lifestyle will be like. I will re-evaluate, fill in those vague concepts, and continue to make sure that my lifestyle is reflecting that values I have experienced this year.

The Long Loneliness

“We have all known the long loneliness and we have learned that the only solution is love and that love comes with community” Dorothy Day

This quote, by Dorothy Day, has become a favorite for many Jesuit Volunteers. Jesuit Volunteers point to this quote as representative of the Jesuit Volunteer community experience. Rightly so, in many regards. In Dorothy Day’s book, The Long Loneliness¸ she talks about the formation of Catholic Worker homes for people to come to and experience community. Many Catholic Worker Houses around the country are now places of hospitality, and many foster the same sorts of community among their residents and guests that JVC aims to develop.

I think today’s American society knows this long loneliness Dorothy Day talks about in her book. Americans, I believe, in their state of hyper-individualism, often forget that we are interdependent, and consequently, often fall into a state of hopelessness, powerlessness, despair, and loneliness. I think this is manifested in the hyper materialism, and the complete focus American society has placed on the individual.

But is this Catholic Worker and Jesuit Volunteer concept of community practical, especially in a hyper-individualistic society?

Certainly, there are merits and blessings I have experienced living in community this year. Together, we live and work in the District, trying to work for social justice, live simply, and grow in our different spiritualities. It is a challenge and a blessing bound together in a common experience. We have shared all of our resources, shared our hearts, and our time with one another. We have experienced the challenge that comes with disagreements and disputes, and the joys that come with laughter and fond memories. We have voiced our struggles with our work, with the vast and deep-rooted social and economic injustice we see in our work and in our society. We have come to see each other as a community, as close friends travelling together on this part of our journey.

Our community experience is ending soon, and we will disperse onto our different paths. Though I think Dorothy Day is speaking about community in the context of experiences like JVC, I also think that community extends to a broader understanding than this. Taking from lessons learned from the blessings and challenges of this community experience, I envision living out the tenet of Community in many ways in my own lifestyle.

Dorothy Day says that the void of loneliness can be filled with love and community. I believe this community refers to the connections we make with one another in our lives. These connections are not just friendships of utility, as Aristotle would entitle them (friendships that give us what we need and in turn provide to others what they need), but true “good friendships,” friendships that are motivated out of love for the other, friendships that develop over time, friendships that encompass a mutual trust…

I believe in many ways, I have seen these friendships in the experience of community this year. I point to this type of friendships as the foundation of the Community I envision after JVC. I have seen these friendships develop with friends from high school, friends from Gonzaga, friends from Bread for the City, and friends from my Jesuit Volunteer house. Friendships that include sitting with a glass of wine or cup of coffee and enjoying a long conversation delving into our most inner hearts, desires, pains, and joys… friendships that are not contingent on what we can give one another, but are everlasting and from the heart… friendships that continue to give life, to nurture, and to encourage one another to become more authentic individuals.

Community happens in other ways too – I have experienced a sense of community in my work, in both the relationships with my coworkers and my clients. Working together each day, we have formed community in the way that we relate to one another, the way that we help each other grow, and the way that we strive to make the District a more just place for our clients.

I have experienced community this year in the relationships with other advocates I have met in the city. Working together on projects like the SE Preservation Project, the Fair Budget Coalition, IDA advocacy, and the Save Our Safety Net Campaign, I have shared my own passion with others who have the same vision, in hopes that together, our efforts will be magnified and more powerful. This collaboration has helped me feel as if DC is my community, the place I am settled, the place I feel a strong connection to. It is different than the Community I have experienced with my closest relationships, but it is has complemented the other relationships I have formed this year.

The sum of these relationships result in a feeling of community that creates connections with one another, helps us feel as if we are part of a community, fosters growth, and challenges us to become more authentically human. It is a sense of community made up of a variety of relationships, some reaching more intimately into who we are than others. I believe this community is innately sustainable outside of the Jesuit Volunteer experience or Catholic Worker lifestyle because it calls us to form relationships that cultivate self and communal growth. It is this growth, and this sense of community, that can cure the long loneliness that Dorothy Day speaks of.

Perhaps I won’t live in another JVC-type Community like I have this year, but I will live the value of community as I continue on with my life.