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.

-----------------------------------------------
Works Cited

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

The American Flag - A Cultural Object

In my Religion, Political Culture, and Ideology course, we began class with a reading by Wendy Griswold, attempting to define what culture is. Culture is such a vague term – people often think they know it when they see it or experience it, but struggle to give any formal definition of it. Griswold notes that there are different types of culture in society, and that elements of culture are expressed through cultural objects – objects in society that we assign meaning to. Culture becomes culture when we (as a group) assign some meaning to the object.

Griswold also states that cultural objects can have different meanings to different groups of people. This Labor Day, I point to the American flag as a symbol that, even in my own extended family, holds many different meanings.

Growing up in a relatively conservative active military family, the American flag served as a symbol of sacrifice and freedom, of democracy and of rights. The American flag was (and is) venerated by many family members as a tangible cultural object, one that stands for the many wars that have provided our citizens freedom. It is a cultural object that must be respected, for it in many ways represents so many values of American society.

I found myself at Mass today feeling cynical about this cultural symbol. It’s true – I haven’t always been the most patriotic in the same sense as this familial veneration of the flag. Singing “America the Beautiful” in a wealthy part of South Chicago, just minutes from a center of Chicago’s cyclical poverty and violence, images of my JVC experience reappeared in my mind. Can I really hold the same meaning that my fellow family members hold of the American flag when I see cyclical poverty and institutional racism so rampant in our society?

Being a patriot means being loyal to one’s country, being willing to serve one’s country. I believe I am a patriot in a different definition of the word. I’m willing and ready to serve my country, but that means domestically – serving those who are in need, fighting inequality in our institutions, speaking up about injustice in my conversations with family and friends. I believe this is another way of being loyal to one’s country – being loyal to people in the country society forgets to acknowledge as human.

When listening to the song today, when discussing my views of society, and when seeing the American flag, I held a different meaning of this cultural object. Instead of a testament to freedom, democracy, and sacrifice, I saw a country of irony, of segregation, of inequality, and of ignorance. When singing the words, “God shed His Grace on Thee,” I felt a mix of frustration and of humility. In many ways, we are dependent on God’s grace, and could use so much more trust and patience in this fight for equality and justice.

And perhaps, I too am the “Thee” in that verse. For I need just as much grace as our country. I recognize that it has taken me many years to understand the world and our country the way I do. I need that grace now to be humble, to be compassionate, to be patient, to be open, and to stop judging other views of the United States. For it is true – there has been much sacrifice for the luxuries I enjoy.

So as I continue on through school, I know that elements of cynicism will reemerge and challenge me. But – I must continue to return to God, asking for His Grace to be shed on me, and perhaps I will be able to stop judging and continue working for social justice.

It will only be by the grace of God.

Change Happens on the Journey

During our Jesuit Volunteer Corps closing retreat, we talked about the concept of a pilgrimage or journey. In that journey, often, the growth happens throughout the journey, but it is realized after the journey is complete. In a talk given by Sharon of the JVC staff, she mentioned the Wise Men of the Gospel and said,

"The wisemen were changed by their experience of Jesus and took a different route home."

When I look back on this year and the journey of JVC, I am most radically changed in my understanding of what it means to accompany others, to live on solidarity, and to develop kinship.

The idea of accompanying someone suggest a journey is to be had. In fact, all relationships are a journey, full of pockets of what St. Ignatius calls consolation and desolation. On a journey with others, we sense the times when we can tangible feel the presence of God, and others where we have a striking fear or perception that God has been absent.

I began working with clients at Bread during the first days of my experience, and as you know, soon received my own caseload of persons applying for Social Security Disability benefits. Working with clients consistently began to open my eyes to the realities of accompaniment. In the past, I have reflecting on winning Mr. R's SSI case and watching him fill with hope. This man, suffering from a long discouraging litany of impairments, has been finally granted some solace on his journey. I too felt hope, and God's presence in these moments.

Throughout the year, I became much more comfortable with, and well equipped to understand the experiences of the clients we serve at Bread for the City, and the larger systemic and underlying hurdles that cause our clients? life experience. Perhaps these realizations made it easier to understand what it means to accompany others. When individuals would walk into Bread towards the end of the year, I felt myself able to simply accompany them through the complexities of the legal system.

Yet, these same moments on the journey - the same moments of consolation - have hinted at, and often have been smothered by the overwhelming presence of desolation. My clients live an experience muddled by a system of classism, sexism, and especially racism. Theirs (and arguably, our own) lives are tainted by a system that predisposes them to lives of inequality, increased disparity, disadvantages, prejudices, and cyclical poverty. How can I possible see or experience a loving God in the midst of such suffering and desolation?

It is in the moments working on Mr. R's case, when he says he too wants to go to the City Council to advocate on behalf of programs that have fostered growth and self-actualization in him

It is in the moments of goodbye, when Mr. J. tells me to "never quit the books," even if it is hard, and I promise him that I won't quit.

It is in the moments of simply being present during walk-ins, listening, sharing my experience, growing...

It is in these moments and the many more moments this year that I have most closely felt God. And it is precisely because I have seen the true and authentic humanity in people society pretends do not exist.

"The wisemen were changed by their experience of Jesus and took a different route home."

Indeed, I have been radically changed through my experience of accompaniment this year, and in the moments of consolation and desolation. It is because of this year that I know I must always continue to explore what it means to truly accompany others, and to always work to make positive social and structural change.

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.

Questions and Faithfulness

Yesterday, in a meeting at the Department of Human Services, we discussed policy implementation and ideas for making the Homelessness Prevention and Rapid Re-Housing Program (HPRP) more effective and efficient. While it was interesting to sit through a meeting with city officials, and other non-profit providers from the city, my mind was racing with a collection of questions about the work we do here at Bread and across the City Government and NGO world:

How can you meet the level of need in the District of Columbia?

There is so much institutional racism that I never saw before this year. How can we help educate others and come up with solutions that begin to tackle this racism?

Is case management the answer? Why do some of us need case management while others do not?

How do we give people incentives to work? Incentives to stop relying on public assistance and move towards self sufficiency? Is self sufficiency only a concept for middle and upper classes?

Are we imposing our own ideas of success on others? Is that a good thing or a bad thing?

Can we make a program like HPRP actually help people reach their goals and become truly independent?

Does Social Work help? What does that help look like? Is Social Work helping us or is it helping the clients?

Why are so many people “disabled” in the District of Columbia? Are they all disabled? What helps some people work despite their pain and yet makes others want to stop working? How do people with their disabilities?

How do we show our wealthier members of society that these people aren’t just lazy, but that they are dependent because we’ve made them dependent?

How do we add job training and improve our education system so we don’t have so many people without any skills or work history?

How do we help people realize the skills gifts they’ve been given and encourage them to make some impact with those?

How can we meet the level of deep seated need for our poorest members of society?

Questions such as these and more spun through my head as I walked out of the meeting at DHS. Sitting in the meeting, I began to feel thoughts of hopelessness – can we really make an impact when the need is so great?

When I was in college, I realized that there is a state of American Hopelessness that persists in our society. In college, this was viewed towards the lens of middle and upperclass suburban adults who for whatever reason have become hyper-individualistic. And in some ways, I felt elements of hopelessness after I walked out of the meeting with DHS – with a need so great and such limited resources, is it truly possible to make an impact on others, to make some sort of positive social change?

I think this is another hopelessness that is occurring though. It is the hopelessness in many of the clients served by these programs. It is hopelessness that leads these clients to become dependent, to feel as if they cannot improve their lives and thus are trapped in their current situation. They are trapped because of both their hopelessness, and because of the structures of society that keep them trapped and hopeless. It is a cycle that is, for many of our clients, impossible to escape.

I would be a hypocrite, though, if I didn’t remember the words of Fr. Greg Boyle, when he quotes Mother Teresa. I will never forget, when asked how he is able to persevere through so much failure, his response: The key is to not measure in success, but in faithfulness.

Yes, Fr. Greg and Mother Teresa, you are right. It is true that we must measure in how faithful we are to our work, and how faithful we are to God. For this faithfulness will sustain us when we feel as if we are hopeless, as if the need is too great, and as if we are stuck not making any positive social change.

So then, remembering this thought, I take comfort in knowing that I have stayed faithful to my clients and to my work this year. It is my hope that as I continue to work here this next month, and head off to school after, that I will continue to see myself as a faithful servant. For me, as a task-minded, goal-oriented person, interacting with a system looking for quantifiable answers, it is sometimes hard not to get discouraged. But… when I change my perspective and look through the lens of faithfulness, suddenly success isn’t so hard to find.

Ruined and Transformed for Life

Over these past couple of weeks, I have come to see what it means to be “ruined for life,” one of JVC’s official taglines. I doubted this would apply to me when I began my year in JVC. In fact, I felt this had already happened to me in East LA… in my experiences meeting others in Europe… in Zambia… in my conversations with friends over coffee… and in the many other shaping experiences throughout my life. It is true – it did happen in high school, in college, and in those many experiences listed above. I attribute my family, my friends, my teachers, my mentors, my faith, and my experiences to be the guiding forces that have led me here, and have instilled in me this thirst for justice, and a deep hearted compassion for the poor.

Yet, it’s funny how true the statement, “ruined for life” really is. In my most recent encounters, I have found myself surprisingly changed, and cannot helped but reflect on this change. Perhaps a couple examples illustrate this most clearly:

A conversation in Maine about the causes of inequality left me unsatisfied, frustrated, and upset. Perspectives raised focused on the laziness of the poor, while neglecting any sort of criticism of the structural barriers that have oppressed and crushed them. Despite my attempts at advocacy, I found myself unsuccessful in showing structural level problems that leave many Americans beginning their lives without equal opportunity. No longer, though, am I upset because I have merely lost a discussion in which I feel passionate. No – it is no longer about me. It is about my clients. My outrage is not because of my pride, but because I picture my personal clients and point to their own lives as living testaments to society’s condemning of our poor.

Another conversation in Maine, reflecting on the simplicity of rural life (in contrast to the materialistic emphasis of the fast paced urban life) has resurfaced in many thoughts over these past weeks. Yes – it is true that living out in the country provides one with less distractions, more emphasis on the present, and less focus on material possessions and appearance. It is easy to contrast this with urban life. Challenged by this conversation, and entering the material shopping scene of downtown Portland, I found myself facing inner dissonance between the call to a simple lifestyle, and the temptations of life’s beautiful treasures. I continue to reflect on what it means to purchase responsibly, to consider what it means to live simply, and to examine my own true needs.

That same conversation, challenging my views of simplicity, and my desires to live an urban life, also forced me to reflect on my own clients – their life experience, and the lack of choices they face. It is true – I as a privileged member of society can decide what simplicity means to me, and whether I truly find myself in the most rural or urban places. Yet, trapped and segregated to the most destitute of neighborhoods in D.C., my clients mere choices forgo personal growth and are replaced with true questions of need in order to survive.

Institutional racism, a concept that seemed so abstract one year ago, now shines as bright as the North Star. No longer can I view society through a color-blind race-less society in which all races interact with equal opportunity and privilege. No – though I can appreciate the accomplishments we have made for our non-white citizens (especially as we see Barack Obama as our current president), it is impossible for me to ignore the institutional racism that has left my African American clients born into poor families with a lack of positive family structure, trapped in schools that consume the dreams of children and instead fester and perpetuate hopelessness, and continuing into adulthood engulfed with this hopelessness, find no escape from the cycle of poverty. This institutional racism persists and continues to deepen despite our thoughts that we have emerged into a new color-blind society.

And returning to themes of simplicity and social justice, I found myself in Georgetown this weekend indulging myself at JCrew. As I looked around Georgetown, in a way I haven’t felt yet, I experience our American culture in a way I haven’t quite noticed before. I was suddenly aware of the racial divide of Georgetown and the neighborhood of Anacostia. Sure, of course I’ve been to Georgetown, and course I’ve noticed it before. But more present this time, was a sickening feeling of our masking of poverty. Though I enjoyed my time in Georgetown, I felt a deeper awareness of the materialism that consumes us, and the individualistic mindset that forces us to keep our eyes on ourselves, insulated from problems just blocks away from us.

I walked into Bread for the City today, and felt a sense of ruth fill my soul. At home, I felt, seeing the clients who patiently wait until 9:00am on Monday morning. Seeing a familiar face as I meet with Ms. N and continue our journey through the process of the Social Security Administration. Here I feel at home. At home with the people of my neighborhood, and my work.

It is true – there are many who do not continue to take full responsibility for themselves, and I continue to see this in some people. What is greater, though, is the lack of responsibility that has been instilled in them, and the dependence society has fostered through our institutional racism, through our systems of inequity, and our focus on our individual mindset. It’s easier to keep our clients dependent because then we can criticize them. It’s easy to label them as lazy and rotten because then we can justify our own existence. It’s easy to do this because we don’t know the poor as true humans, but rather, as the inhuman lazy statistical poor.

And it is easy to continue to live lives of consumption of self investment only. It’s easy because it’s our culture, and though it initially feels satisfying, it leaves us quenched for more, for more, and for more.

Forever will I look at the world through the eyes of my experiences, but most especially, through my experience at Bread for the City. I continue to grasp what it means to grow closer to God, to find a way to live the words of the Gospel, and the words of Micah. It is true, I am ruined for life. But perhaps, more accurately, I am transformed for life. I continue to pray that I will live for and with my clients, that I will accompany them, and that I will grow closer to God who calls me to this work.

Save Our Saftey Net Mayor Fenty!

In the District of Columbia, yesterday marked an important day - the release of Mayor Fenty's Fiscal Year 2011 (FY11) budget. It is a budget that we have been nervous about all year - we have a current shortfall of $500 million dollars... how many cuts will be made to our low income District of Columbia clients? Will the budget be balanced or will it only involve budget cuts? Will our clients bear the largest burden of the budget cuts?

My involvement with the Fair Budget Coalition this year has taught me the importance of advocating to the D.C. Council for a more fair budget. I have watched advocates in both the Fair Budget Coalition*and the Save Our Safety Net Campaign* come together to urge the Council to remember our clients as they form the budget.

I have just spent some time reflecting on the Gospel call to serve one another - Jesus, as an example to us, washes the feet of his disciples and calls us to do the same. Yet, as I turn to Mayor Fenty's budget, I realize our leaders often don't hear this same call. Perhaps they may not share the faith I believe. However, my experience at Bread for the City has taught me that the Gospel call I feel stretches beyond my faith - it is inscribed in the hearts of my coworkers in words that are similar or different. Regadless of faith commitment, I have seen my coworkers as well as many advocates across the city reach into their own hearts to see a common humanity between themselves and the clients we serve. Our difference is that our families have often provided the safety net. But we still have the same needs, the same aspirations, and the same desire to be loved and fulfilled. We still have the same goals of sucess, the same need for adequate shelter and food and clothing.

Perhaps we forget this message when we find ourselves isolated in our neighborhoods... when we view Bread clients as the drug addicts and homeless and people away from us.... when we think of our clients as living in unsafe and scary neighborhoods...

But - it is my belief that the moment we spent more than thirty second driving
through and actually look into the eyes of our clients, engaging them in a real
conversation - it is in this moment that our hearts begin to see a common
humanity.

We are bonded together as one humanity - it is my hope that Mayor Fenty and Council Members will find this common humanity in their hearts just as we have in ours.

** For more information on this year's budget and the importance of advocating for our low income clients, please click on the following links to learn more about the Fair Budget Coalition and the Save Our Safety Net Campaign.

Triduum Reflections

It is now Triduum in the Church. Lent is over and we begin our final journey into Easter. Triduum is my favorite time in the Church calendar each year. For years we have attended Mass each night – Holy Thursday Mass, the Good Friday service, Easter Vigil, and finally, Easter Sunday. I have always loved the way these liturgies are intertwined and sewed together – attending all of them, the picture becomes clear of what these most important days of the year are about.

I attended Holy Thursday Mass last night at my church, St. Patrick’s in downtown Washington. During the Holy Thursday Mass at my church back at home, each year, we would sing the song, We Are Called – my favorite faith song. It echoes the words of Micah, calling us to act with justice, love tenderly, serve one another, and walk humbly with God (Micah 6:8). It is a Mass about service, about Jesus washing the feet of his disciples – of leading as a servant.

Cardinal McCarrick was the celebrant and I must say I haven’t seen my days in Europe. His homily focused on this message of service and of what it means to serve one another, something that is especially relevant to the life I am living right now. Some of the words stood out to me as they made me reflect on my work at Bread for the City and what it means to truly live this life of service to one another: We should look to serve one another even if their feet aren’t dirty… whatever it takes let us be servers…

In the literal sense, the story of washing the feet is pertinent to the Gospel because the people of Jesus’ time travelled through the Middle Eastern desert from one place to another, without concrete or asphalt pavements, without cars to drive (though I’m hopeful that they had camels which is extremely exciting!). Today, especially in Washington, this story is less literal, but the Gospel value is still true. I believe that when we serve other another, we come closer to Christ, just as he served his disciples in the story.

While the nature of service is often heavy and draining, it is also life giving. As I step back and reflect on my work serving our clients at Bread for the City – helping my Social Security clients prepare for their SSI/SSDI hearings, researching tenant displacement with our housing attorney, and meeting clients who come in each day for assistance, I believe I am also getting my own feet washed. I find that I am deeply fulfilled in the work I am doing at Bread and continue to serve willingly for both my clients and myself.

Cardinal McCarrick closed his homily with the words He shows us how to serve tonight. Tomorrow he will show us how to die. In all, he shows us how to love. When I reflect on the Triduum as a whole, I see that after all, it’s all about Christ’s love for us.

Reflections with Fr. Greg Boyle

My experiences travelling to East LA during college, both my sophomore and senior years, were places of some of the greatest growth. Being present in the community, attending Mass and Stations of the Cross, staying with Rosa and her family, and working in the Dolores Mission School helped shape my understanding of what it means to be in accompaniment with others.

Last night, we had the opportunity of seeing Fr. Greg Boyle of Homeboy Industries speaking on his new book, Tattoos on the Heart*. Many of the stories Fr. Greg shared were stories I had heard before. Yet sitting there, listening again, I was reminded of my own experience in East LA, and the many things he has said that have touched me.





“Long lay the world
In sin and error pinning
Till He appeared
And the soul felt its worth”

In multiple occasions, Fr. Greg has brought up this quote from the popular Christmas Carol, O Holy Night. He explains that while this quote is literally about the birth of Jesus, it should also be about our interactions with each person we meet. Isn’t that how it should be, that the soul feels its worth when we interact with someone?

Moving to another though, he discusses his vision of kinship – seeing a world that is “no longer us and them, but just us.” Just us – without divisions, without seeing others as the outsider or the inferior person, but as seeing all as full of worth and value.

I was first drawn to think about the people of East LA when hearing his comments. After all, the context of his words are about the gang members he works with each day. The images in my mind are of the streets near the Dolores Mission, of having lunch with Chino at Homeboy Industries, of talking with Rosa in her home…

Yet in another sense, I think about my own experience here at Bread for the City - aside from the service experiences in college like travelling to East LA, I can't really say I've spent long periods of time working with those who are low-income. Here I find myself deepening my understanding of "no longer us and them, but just us." Of course, there are still divisions. I return to my JVC house where we have enough money and don't have to worry about meals or paying our bills. Yes, we are living without many luxuries of society, but we are still comfortable. In many ways, my stipend is more than enough.

In other ways though, I still debate this us and them idea. Yes, it's true - I live in the potentially the same neighborhood as my clients, we shop at the same grocery store, and I interact with clients and walk-in individuals each day. I sit with them and listen to their story and try and give them some information. I work with my SSI clients so that together we can ensure they receive the benefits they are entitled to.

I think there are still many differences and I continue to think about them and reflect on them. I am still trying to grapple with this idea of living in solidarity and kinship with those I am working with. It is true that in one way, I'll continue to live my life the way I raised - still interesting in things such as the Smithsonians and getting a glass of wine at Vinoteca or cup of coffee at Starbucks... in other ways though, I think I am a few steps closer to understanding what Fr, Greg is talking about when he asks us to begin building kinship.


*100% of the proceeds from Fr. Greg's new book, Tattoos on the Heart, return to Homeboy Industries to support the continued efforts to help give hope to the gang members of Los Angeles. To learn more about the book, please click here.

The Woman at the Well

For many reasons, Lent is my favorite season in the church calendar. Growing up, I would look forward to the different songs that we would sing in Lent. Most specifically, Lent was marked musically by the coming of “Create in Me,” Psalm 51, which we would sing each Sunday after the first reading. But I think there are many reasons I love the liturgical season of Lent. One of them is the depth of the readings of Lent.

In Exodus today, Moses felt helpless at the grumbling of the people whose thirst was not quenched in the desert. How often I feel a similar feeling to Moses each day at work, when I cannot provide the legal help people are needing – I cannot quench their thirst for justice and fairness, but can at least try to provide dignity in the process. In the story today, Moses turns to God, cries out for help, and God provides a spring of water. He quenches their thirst and restores faith in the people. It is a good reminder to me that I must trust God in times of need and continue to give what I can to the clients of Bread for the City.

I love when the Church echoes a message from the Old Testament to the Gospel reading in Mass. Today’s Gospel was from John – Jesus meets the woman at the well in Samaria. It is a Gospel story that captivates me each time I hear it. Jesus speaks with the woman, asking for a cup of water. He in turn tells her he alone can quench her thirst… he is the living water. He is more than the spring of water God provided Moses and the people in the desert, for as he says, that water leaves one thirsty for more. The woman’s life is transformed because she experiences this living water. She leaves to tell all in the town because she realizes Jesus knows “everything that she has ever done” and truly is that living water. It is a story that continues to give me comfort and connects me, especially in times of desolation.

When I think of this story, I imagine a well, outside the city limits. I see the woman come up to the well. There is a slight wind and it picks up sand and carries it across the desert. Looking away from the city, all one can see is sand, sand for many miles, sand stretching far past the well. There is Jesus sitting at the well, without his bucket. He is waiting for the conversation with the woman.

I think what I like about the Lenten stories is that they take me on a journey with Jesus. As he prepares for his death, his encounters with people become so authentic. The story of the woman at the well is more than a sermon or a physical healing. Rather, in his authentic conversation with the woman, he gives her a healing of the heart and sends her on her way to continue to grow and spread his message to others.

Christ in the Heart of Bread for the City SSI Clients

These past couple weeks have been full of SSI/SSDI work. As soon as Mr. R’s hearing concluded, my mind switched to two cases that are scheduled to for hearing on March 11th. Together with my boss and the clients, I have been doing the same as for Mr. R – finalizing my understanding of the medical records, writing a brief for the judge, submitting all pertinent evidence, explaining the process to my clients, and making sure everything else is ready.

In the process, I have met with my boss, Vytas, to comprehensively make sure I am ready to represent these clients. During our case review on Monday, Vytas made a comment about a movie his daughter and he had watched the previous weekend. One of the characters in the movie was clearly crippled – an image we can conjure in our minds: a man in a walker… an woman limping across the street with large thick glasses… the images are all too familiar here in my neighborhood and at Bread for the City. Yet Vytas explained a twist in the story – it was later revealed that this disabled character was actually an important powerful Greek god, in the disguise of a disabled person. Perhaps initial encounters and judgments don’t offer a full understanding. How differently might others have treated this disabled person if he appeared as a Greek god?

I was struck by this story because of its parallel to what my Catholic faith calls me to see – Christ in the heart of the poor. Reflecting on a commonly discussed passage from the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus asks us to turn to the poor, the “least brothers of mine” and to serve them – to give them food and drink, welcome the stranger, clothe the naked, and visit the ill and imprisoned (Matthew 25: 33-46).

I have been thinking about this moment with Vytas since Monday and have been drawn back to this passage. While I have been praying for my SSI clients and their hearings, especially as they draw near, I often forget to slow down and reflect on the work I am doing. It has been a couple of days since that meeting, and I continue to return to that meeting with Vytas. Working for a place like Bread for the City provides daily experiences for me to experience Christ – perhaps if I slow down and look more closely into the heart of each client of Bread for the City, Jesus will become more present in the conversations I have each day.