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.

Returning to Graduate School – Comparing the Abstract with the Concrete

In many ways, I think I will have an advantage in graduate school because of my year as a volunteer. Working at Bread for the City, I was able to link many sociological theories with the actual experiences of our clients. My exposure to poverty, institutional racism, and real relationships with our clients informs how I look at the world, and indeed, how I view stratification. My heart is transformed because of these real relationships. In many ways, it is this exposure with the concrete that will help in my graduate studies.

Yet in other ways, I believe my year away from academia poses different challenges as I begin my courses. Much theory seems to be abstract. For example, in my culture class, we began with a discussion of what defines culture, what culture looks like, and who creates culture. Ultimately, the readings and discussion pointed us towards meaning-making – that culture is our attempt to make meaning; something becomes a cultural object because it has assigned meaning.

This is the first of many discussions that, while important, are different from the type of discussions at Bread for the City. Our work at Bread focuses on the concrete because we saw poverty as real. Our advocacy was not founded on theories of sociology, but on the relationships we had with our clients, and the aggregation of the multiple client stories we listened to each day.

So now, in graduate school, I look at the world through the lenses of the abstract and the concrete. I continue to think about my client experience as a Jesuit Volunteer, the advocacy we undertook, and the ways I continue to be ruined for life. Yet at the same time, I return to many conversations of the abstract – looking at the theories of many sociologists who have come before me; it will be my job to examine that abstract, to interpret it, to critique it, and to add to the conversation.

So the ultimate challenge at Loyola University Chicago will be to synthesize the abstract and the concrete. By doing this, perhaps an even more fruitful dialogue will happen, and we will continue to work for a more just world

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.

The Audacity to See Our Society as "Raceless"

Even as a sociologist, I began the Jesuit Volunteer Corps believing that we had moved to a raceless society – one in which we all have the same opportunities, and one in which we have moved passed any sort of prejudice. And when confronting with statistics of the overwhelming numbers of minorities who are poor in America’s urban centers, I had the audacity to simply label this as economic inequality and forget that race could or should be incorporated into the analysis.

Could I fully blame myself? Yes and no. Coming from a predominately white area where I myself was a minority, it was easy to dismiss the fact that racism exists; after all, I am not white, and look at me – I have successfully used my talents and middle class-instilled work ethic and social compass to not only “succeed,” but actually obtain almost everything I had ever asked for – with slim to in some cases no adversity.

Coming to Washington has slowly eroded the fantasy I held to be true. Even as quickly as getting off the plane at National Airport, I noticed that the people in business attire are most generally white, and the people in service jobs are indefinitely black. But, sure I thought, this is tied to economic inequality, and it is not racial inequality, for that doesn’t exist.

I work in NW Washington in an office that is in a predominately and historically African American neighborhood. I live just north of our office and walk to work each day. Our location also lends itself to other Latino/Hispanic clients, and I notice the rare white client who walks into Bread for legal assistance. But still, through this, everything must be tied to economic inequality only, for we are now a raceless society.

Nevermind that in my attempts to pretend that we are raceless, I still watched (to my horror) that I had my own prejudices that surfaced. We can blame a list of relevant factors and sources of this prejudice, but the fact is that I held prejudices that I didn’t even know were there. Working at Bread for the City has challenged me daily, and has helped destroy the prejudices and replace them with relationships with real people.

Even heading to Southeast Washington, across the Anacostia, where the deepest poverty perpetuates itself overtly, I still continued to believe that all our problems are tied to economic inequality. I remember my first visit to our Anacostia location. The blatant absence of any sort of commercial establishments (minus the plentiful liquor and corner stores) coupled with the hopelessness in the tone of the buildings and the fact that only African Americans were present should have been a clear signal that we cannot continue to see a raceless society. Even travelling back across the river, commenting on the contrast to the luxury condo buildings and the omnipresent cupola of the United States Capitol, I failed to see what should have been so clear.

After many more conversations, more visits to SE, more daily walks through my neighborhood, a sociological observation at Landlord-Tenant Court, media coverage, and inner reflections, I believe I had my grand epiphany in early June. For what should have been obvious in my courses at Gonzaga now finally made sense. There is a reason in modern sociological theory that race, gender, and class are tied together, and not viewed only independently of one another.

In the context of race, it now clear to me that the term “racism” applies to institutions in society. Institutions are racist because they give power to the views of the majority at the expense (and disadvantage) of the minority. The power reinforces the majority while condemning the minority. The very foundations of who we are as Americans is dependent on this system of power. The majority power has used African Americans in an exploitative manner since their original days in this country. Freed from slavery, they began their new lives without any of the wealth many others had been able to accumulate through prosperity, inheritance, and the advantages of being white in a racist society. Naturally, African Americans stayed in poverty and entered a life of a new slavery – this time as sharecroppers. And finally, when escaping this new type of slavery, African Americans headed towards the city where they faced new types of racism and segregation. When wealthier Americans fled cities for the suburbs in the 50s, African Americans were left without sufficient wealth and thus found themselves in the center of decay and fleeting capital. Even when having sufficient wealth to move to the suburbs, African Americans faced racist policies written into law, preventing them from actually achieving the American Dream.

Today – the result is so easy to see that it’s abhorrent to think that it wasn’t clear on my first visit to our SE office, when such an image was so blatant. Lack of capital resulted in neighborhood decay. Dependency grew. Poverty concentrated deeper and deeper, due to policies in housing and in prejudice of individual Americans. Lack of jobs in the urban centers, the coming of drugs, the fall of the American family, terrible schools, lack of tax base to provide services, hopelessness and mental illnesses, conditions of squalor, deep segregation, and perhaps a forgotten symptom – the apathy and lack of concern by the dominant power and society, has led to the state we are in today.

I can no longer believe that we have moved to a raceless society.

As a sociologist, I am partly ashamed to say that it has taken me this long to recognize the strong impact of race and power in the United States. But perhaps – it sheds light to the packaging of our middle class values – it is easy for us to believe we are in a raceless society when we live lives of privilege, wealth accumulation, affluent neighborhoods, and higher quality schools. Even when we come from families who are in the lower middle class, we still can look to the working class, working poor, and underclass as people below us who we continue working to avoid becoming. Our values become reinforced in the successes we experience, and we continue believing the American dream is equal, just, and gives equal opportunity to all. Others must not be taking advantage of the opportunity.

Our values are reinforced when we hear the word diversity. We cringe because it has been a buzz word and we become upset that someone might be an equal candidate (or more upsetting, worse than us) and we will lose our opportunity because the policy is favoring the African American over us. It is a power struggle and we are afraid we will lose. We know that the other has been oppressed, but we tell him that it was in the past. We tell her that it is not our fault. We rebuke the other for trying to give us guilt for the sins of the past. After all, if you only work as hard as I, you too will be at the same place. For you see, we are a raceless society now, a society of equal opportunity. Nevermind the 300 years of advantage I have over you. That is over now. What is important is that we both work hard, and let’s be honest, I have worked harder than you. I deserve it more.

And so, this is how we continue to perpetuate the great myth in our society that we live in a raceless society, a society that now is colorblind, a society that sees everyone as equals, a society that judges by merit and skills, not by skin color and economic class.

For a long time, I believed this great American myth. But, alas, after this year in Washington, the lie has become exposed. I can longer believe that we live in a raceless society.

Yet – I am not left alienated, hopeless, and powerlessness. No – the revelation is like a bittersweet taste. The bitterness floods my mind, heart, and soul, tempting me to turn to hopelessness. But, the taste of hope is sweet, and some enters me and convinces me that there is still hope. We can still fight for policy that combats a racist society. We can still confront the prejudices we don’t even know we have, just as I have this year. We can still work together to break down this great American myth and work for our brothers and sisters who are disadvantaged at our experience.

We can do it together, and we will. For now that the myth has been revealed as a fallacy in both our society and in our hearts, we can move towards establishing what we know is just.

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.

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.

Additional Thoughts on Simplicity

I have been thinking a lot about what it means to live a simple lifestyle. It has been one year since I’ve headed to Zambia, and the Gonzaga-in-Zambezi daily blog has caused me to reflect on my own experience there, and the ways my life has changed since then.

It is easy to call Zambian life as simple. Simply put, the people of Zambezi aren’t generally attached to their cell phone at all times, aren’t watching hours of television or surfing the internet, and aren’t cluttering their lives with excess consumption like we find ourselves doing each day. Back in the United States, we struggled with the concept of need versus want in our daily choices.

I wonder if simple lifestyle fully takes into account the Zambian life experience. While in Zambia, I remember thinking that I had a lot less to worry about while in Zambia (I wasn’t thinking about finals or moving to Washington, DC, or the things I’ve cluttered my life with). Yet the realities of my worries seemed almost trivial in comparison to the Zambian worries. Mama Kuwatu shared with our students here daily journey to collect water from a source that is too contaminated for us to drink from – a hole in the ground where she waits to collect water and carry it back on her head. She grows her food and takes care of her many children. Despite the fact that her home is nice in comparison to others in Zambezi, it is still without heat and has a dirt floor and electricity. Is this simple? Or is it more to think about than I must think of? Perhaps my lifestyle, with its modern conveniences and comfort is simpler in a sense.

Yet it was also easy to see the Zambian life as more simple, without the distractions that are present in my life. Never have I felt as present as I felt in Zambezi – no cell phone, no internet to distract me. All I could focus on was the relationships present to me, and the ways I was growing there.

Here in JVC, I think we’re challenged to think of “simplicity of time,” a concept that refers being intentional with our time and the way we use it. This intentionality has become a game of tug-a-war: spending time communicating with friends and family via email, phone, and letters while staying ever present to the people in my house while staying present and active with the other relationships here in the city. Being present here is harder than that presence in Zambezi, and it becomes something that is chronically a challenge for me.

I think my conclusion from this year, and from my reflections on Zambia is that we both struggle with what it means to live a simple lifestyle. Based on our cultural and societal norms, simplicity has different meanings. Yet the goals are ultimately the same – by living a simple life, we become free to live more authentically real lives, lives that aren’t wrapped up in the complexities of our society.

The Value of Simplicity

This year has challenged me to explore what it means to live a simple lifestyle. When paired with the work we are doing in our placements, the value of living in community, and intentionality in our faith, there is a dynamic of both challenge and peace that come with living simply.

I have come to understand hat there are two main virtues in living a simple lifestyle. Perhaps most intuitively is the idea that living simply, in all aspects of the word, leads to more freedom from the realities of a consumerist and materialistic society. So often, our world tells us we need the newest product of everything. The newest product will make us happy. We need the newest style of clothing. Yet the message is false: for as soon as a new more stylish piece of clothing arrives in the fall, we will no longer be happy, but instead will crave what is new. The reality is that most of my clothes are just fine. In fact, I brought less than half of my clothing with me to JVC and I've been more than fine. I apparently don't need the rest, even if I may still want them.

I think there is something to be said about the way simplicity helps us understand who our clients are, and to understand their own life's journey. Each month, I am paid less than the SSI check my clients receive, and unlike them, I'm not receiving additional assistance like food stamps. Instead, most of my check has predetermined endpoints: rent, utilities, food, household items, and transportation. Eighty five dollars remain intact after our house bills are paid.

In some ways, simplicity, at least financially, has been especially challenging. The question becomes, what do I really need and how do I budget to make that happen? Perhaps I don't need another drink at our Legal Clinic Happy Hour, but I would enjoy another. I suppose I don't need Starbucks coffee beans, but Starbucks does taste a lot better than Folgers or ChocFull of Nuts.

The challenge becomes balancing the simplicity choices. The joy I have found is in the simple instances when I indulge into the luxuries I had previous found common. When thrown into the blend of many days of ChocFull of Nuts, suddenly Starbucks seems to taste better, richer, and it becomes much more enjoyable and special. Happy hour is filled with much more happiness and delight.

And, though maybe it's an exaggeration to say, but simplicity - the act of budgeting, of sacrificing, and of delaying our pleasures, gives me a little insight into the lives of our clients. The difference, however, is that I live in a house of other volunteers whose safety nets are tight and comprehensive. Our immediate safety net is in one another, and the contribution we bring to our household expenses each month. Our budget ensures that we will be challenged, yet successful in meeting our basic needs. An SSI check can't ensure that each month.

While I can't say I can understand all of my clients' daily experiences financially, I believe my challenge in simplicity has helped me move one step closer to empathizing with their difficulty and painful financial options they get to choose from each day. While it's clear that in many ways, my life will never be the same as my clients', at least this way I can try and accompany them on their life journeys.

Life Happens Over Coffee

“One of life’s quiet excitements is to stand somewhat apart from yourself and watch yourself softly become the author of something beautiful.” Norman Maclean, A River Runs Through It

Until today, I almost forgot how much I enjoy going to Starbucks and sitting with a cup of coffee and spending time by myself. Of course some of my favorite memories have been made at Starbucks with close friends – having a conversation over coffee, sharing our lives together, and exploring what it means to be human. I can point to countless cups of coffee that forever echo in my heart what it means to be in deep relationship with one another and what it means to look towards becoming the most authentic person we can become.

Yet, I also enjoy another side of Starbucks, the side I explored today by myself. The other Starbucks experience, sitting alone in a chair, sipping a cup of coffee, exploring my own self through a great book, through writing a letter to a friend, or through gazing out the window letting my thoughts float out the window and up to God. It is a break from life, a chance to reflect, and as Norman Maclean writes in A River Runs Through It, a chance to “watch yourself softly become the author of something beautiful.”

Balancing living in community and taking time for one’s self is a challenge. However, learning about this balance has helped me grow and treasure the times alone at Starbucks. I have found a connection with the Dupont Circle Starbucks, with the room of windows looking into the Circle. Sitting, sipping my bold coffee and reading A River Runs Through It today, I was captivated and taken not just to Missoula MT, but into myself. Perhaps in a way I haven’t had for a while, I stepped apart from my own life looked back into myself. In those moments, as I sat, sipping my coffee and journeying with Norman and Paul, I too was journeying with myself. I feel refreshed, ready for another week at Bread for the City.

Perhaps I shouldn’t wait so long to have another coffee by myself at Starbucks.

Two Different Washingtons

Last weekend, a high school friend of mine visited Washington with a couple of his college friends. The friends from college had never been to D.C. before, and as they are all Political Science majors, excitement radiated out of them. Travelling around Washington together, looking at the National Mall, the Monuments, the White House... I watched their education become personified as they recited Supreme Court cases, recounted stories of presidential blunders, and gossiped about various Congressional leaders. It was as if I was stepping into Disneyland... the Political Science major version.

I sometimes forget about this Washington. While my JVC house is active in exploring the city, seeing the Smithsonian museums, biking around the trails that outline the city, and walking the streets exploring the neighborhoods, sometimes I forget that this Washington is the same Washington that has been debating health care for many months now... it is the same Washington that houses the United States' leaders... it is the Washington of tourism, of monuments and memorials, of Congress and of the Supreme Court.

I think this is why the comments of the Political Science majors caught me so off-guard last week. Granted, when I originally came to Washington, D.C., this Washington was the Washington I knew and cannot fault their excitement. Yet, when one kept saying how exciting they were to be there and they wanted to return because of the great things happening nationally, I couldn't help but become a little sensitive and protective of Washington.

The Washington I now know is the Washington of Bread for the City... it is the Washington of the Fair Budget Coalition... the Washington of the $500 million budget deficit... the Washington of Shaw and LeDroit Park and Glover Park and Anacostia... the Washington of my clients.

It is a Washington of increasing inequality. The DC Fiscal Policy Institute recently released a report showing nearly 1 in 5 Washington residents now live in poverty. 11,000 district residents fell into poverty this past year, making the total number of residents in poverty to be 106,500. And... this figure is the federal poverty line, which means that many more District residents continue to struggle each month; they just aren't the official federal poverty level. It's also striking to note that the District's average income for Caucasian residents was $101,000 in 2008 while only $39,000 for African Americans.

The D.C. my friend and his college friends saw is a real Washington. It is a place that most see when they come to D.C., and it's unfair for me to judge their experience as naive or superficial. Yet, it's not the D.C. I see each day. The D.C. I see each day is a D.C. of increasing inequality and poverty. But, the D.C. I see is also one of advocates and clients joining hands to make an impact of poverty, both out on a client level and a social justice level. This D.C. is what keeps me inspired to continue doing the work I do each day. It is the D.C. that continues to help me explore my vocation and look towards making a positive impact on society.

To view the article written by Jenny Reed, DCPFI Policy Analyst, click here.

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.

Charity and Service vs. Justice and Advocacy

I have been discerning doing a second year of JVC, staying at Bread for the City, and living the values for another year. In my recent JVC interview for a second year, I was asked an interesting question:

"In terms of Social Justice, what have you learned about structural inequality this year?"

Reflecting on social justice this year has not been something new for me – it is something I have thought about throughout my college experience. Both Sociology and Economics were disciplines aimed at addressing issues of social justice, while my leadership program helped give me insights into being a servant for others, with a special emphasis on those who are most vulnerable. I responded to the question posed to me explaining that the concept of structural inequality is not new for me, but something I have been reflecting on for quite some time. Instead, I think I have learned about the balance between charity and justice, service and advocacy.

At the end of college, some of the programs I participated in such as the East LA immersion to the Dolores Mission and Homeboy Industries helped facilitate discussion on these two aspects of making change. Charity and Service are needed at the first level – to provide for the immediate needs of individuals, needs such as food, clothing, shelter... Our system is set up with programs like Food Stamps, food pantries, soup kitchens, and homeless shelters to fill the immediate needs people face. It is important to respond to these urgent needs, so that people have adequate food and shelter. However, when society does ONLY this, there is no room to escape the current conditions and structural inequality remains rampant. In addition to filling these basic needs, it is also important to work for structural change, that is, to advocate for social justice changes.

I first returned to the charity and justice discussion this year at the Bread for the City Staff Retreat in the fall. During the retreat, we reflected on our mission trip, specifically, what it means to “alleviate the suffering caused by poverty [charity/service] and to rectify the conditions that perpetuate it [justice/advocacy].” This discussion continued into our community, and was especially present in our faith discussion at the winter JVC retreat. Present to me was a personal call to live “faith-justice,” to live in a way that always promotes social justice in what I do, in how I lead, and in the choices I make.

I continue to be inspired by my coworkers who are working for both charity and justice. In our Legal Clinic, our attorneys are working to provide the services our clients need, alleviating immediate suffering. They are also active in advocacy, whether that is through ensuring child support calculators are correctly adjusted, advocating for changes in landlord tenant court, work with other attorneys to prevent gentrification and tenant displacement in the poorest section of DC, testifying at the city council on behalf of TANF and food stamp clients, and collaborating with other advocates in organizations such as the Language Access Coalition, the Fair Budget Coalition, and the Access to Justice Commission.

From the example set by my coworkers, I have learned that it is possible to
make changes to structural inequality. It requires faith, dedication, and commitment – knowing that the work is great, that structures of injustice are pervasive throughout the minds and systems currently existing, and that to really make change is to accept that one might not see the change one is working for. It is to have faith and confidence that injustice can be changed, and to keep working for that change.

Perhaps the lesson I have learned so far returns me to East LA actually, to the words of Fr. Greg Boyle of Homeboy Industries: “Measure not in success, but in faithfulness.” I believe my co-workers are living examples of what it means to be faithful to alleviating the suffering of their clients and to rectifying the conditions that perpetuate it.

Animal, Vegetable, Miracle

JVC is founded on four core values - community, social justice, spirituality, and simple living. This fourth value, also known as simplicity, has in many ways been the most challenging for me. Sure, in some ways I have mastered financial simplicity, and now even find myself saving some of my $85 stipend each month for future months when I anticipate increased costs.

So there is financial simplicity, something that most think of when hearing about my experience. I too wonder what it means to live a simple lifestyle in more ways than material wealth... Questions originating in my Human Ecology course my senior year return. Does simple lifestyle mean buying locally grown organic produce or shopping at the Farmer Market instead of conventional standard grocery stores? Does it mean lowering one's impact on society? How is it linked with faith?

In Human Ecology, we read an excerpt from Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, and I must admit there was a heightened level of frustration that emerged, especially as both an economist and sociologist. For example, Kingsolver (and arguably, many of the authors we read) were not offering suggestions or solutions low income clients could financially adopt. Does it make sense for my SSI clients, receiving $661 in SSI, to spend an extra $1.00 so that they are certain a product is organic?

I must say, however, after reading a book review in the Global Citizen, an annual journal published by the Krista Foundation for Global Citizenship, I decided that perhaps I could give Kingsolver's book another try. I was surprised to find many of Kingsolver's ideas on simple living to be similar (if not the same) to the way I was raised. Just to name a few, I have included the following:

1. Eating Produce that is Locally in Season: Though California strawberries fill the produce section at Safeway, I distinctly remember my mother never buying strawberries outside the two-three week period our local Spooners Strawberry farm would have their ripe berries. Every summer, my mom would go to Spooners, sometimes daily during that entire season, to ensure we'd have more than our fill. Flat after flat, the brightest most vibrant red, most ripe, most juicy and flavorful strawberries would disappear hours after entering the Sharma family house. Spooner strawberries continue to be something our family (and city) look forward to with anticipation each year. I have to say, I agree with Kingsolver - as sad as it is to abstain from strawberries 11 months of the year, those few weeks of locally grown in-season Spooner berries are a highlight of each year.

2. Organic Farming: The term organic is a buzz-word in modern society - certified organic must be better, right? Even before it was popular, I was raised on our own home-grown organic produce from the Sharma family garden. And what's more, our summer meals were dictated by what was fresh that day, week, or month. Even today, when I come home during the summer, our meals focus around what is fresh and ready in the garden. If spinach is ready, we're having a spinach salad. if green beans are ready, that day's vegetable is green beans...

Which brings me to winter months...

3. Canning and planning for the winter: I remember summer day trips to Eastern Washington where we'd pick our tomatoes in the hot, scorching sun. Over the next few days, my mother would slave away in the kitchen washing, slicing, and canning hundreds of jars of tomatoes so that we'd have our own version of "canned tomatoes" all winter. The same was for vegetables, such as mixed vegetables, for fruits like peaches and pears, and even tuna fish. To plan for those months when blackberries would be a treat, my mother would pick blackberries during the summer, make multiple pies, and freeze them before baking them, so that come January, we could pull one out of the freezer and enjoy a taste of summer. Simple ideas such as these made us enjoy the blessings of summer all through the winter.

So perhaps Animal, Vegetable, Miracle doesn't address my low income clients, providing them a practical alternative exactly considering their income, but it isn't as revolutionary as I thought it would be when I picked up the book. In fact, in many ways, Kingsolver's experiment looks a lot like growing up at the Sharma family home.

Initial Thoughts

There have been many times that I have actually thought about recording my experience this year working at Bread for the City and living as a Jesuit Volunteer. The times when I sit down for a disability interview with one of my Social Security Disability clients... the times when I find myself hearing words of wisdom from my coworkers - shaping the way I look at serving others... the times my community members help shape me into being a better man... the times when I see passion in the eyes of advocates across the city, striving to make some sort of positive social change... the times when I hear the appalling stories of people who call searching for help... the times when my Social Security clients win their hearings and are thus guaranteed an income for the rest of their lives... the times when I feel helpless because I cannot give someone an answer besides "I am sorry to hear your story..."

In many ways that are still not tangible, I am being shaped by these moments. I am shaped by Monday intake, when 30 individuals walk in for legal services at Bread for the City, hoping that perhaps our attorneys will take on their case. I am shaped by the chaos and by the conversations that result when I go out to speak with a client. I am shaped by the expressions of utter joy and pain, and am reminded of my common humanity when I intentionally listen.

Experiences like Monday intakes, and the relationships with my Social Security clients help me enter the lives of the people who come to Bread for the City each day, and who live in my neighborhood. They help take my macro-oriented mind, focusing on policy level issues, and connect a real face and real emotions with the choices of society.

As I am beginning this new calendar year, and prayerfully considering a second year of Jesuit Volunteer Corps, I believe writing about my experience, my reflections, and the insights I am learning might help me develop as a young man. Perhaps through these writings, I can begin to make sense of this experience and discern how best God wants me to make an impact in the world we live in.