Ruined for Life

I had planned on writing some sort of end-of-year posting about how I've been "ruined for life" by JVC, and how this experience will always be a part of me, how I hope to incorporate what I've learned into my life and career, etc. But as it turns out, applying to medical school is very time-consuming, being program manager of a culinary training program is pretty hard, and on top of that, Emily and I went a month without internet access. So instead, as a closing blog post (all five of my readers need some closure), I will share the speech I gave to about 2000 incoming students at Georgetown this week. I flew back to D.C. to speak at the New Student Orientation Closing Ceremony, which focused on Georgetown's Jesuit identity. It was great to be back, and especially great to have the opportunity to speak about my experiences over the past year, alongside one of my favorite professors, too. It's a bit more Georgetown-centric than my typical JVC reflection would have been, but enjoy, and thanks for reading this year.

Peace,
Carolyn

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I was invited here to speak to you because of my involvement in post-graduate service with the Jesuit Volunteer Corps (known to us insiders as “JVC”). This invitation is just the latest in a year of people praising me for “giving up a year of my life,” as though entering the Jesuit Volunteer Corps was akin to entering some alternate universe where I in fact just disappeared completely for a year. I can easily make my service sound impressive: During my volunteer year, I served about 25,000 restaurant-style meals to people experiencing homelessness. I worked with over 60 students of the Culinary Training Program during their job searches, about 70% of whom are now stably housed and employed in restaurants and catering companies in Los Angeles.

But it’s time that I come clean. I’m here to tell you tonight that my decision to join the Jesuit Volunteer Corps was actually a relatively selfish one. I got a taste of the transformative nature of living out Jesuit values in service of the poor while I was a student at Georgetown, and I wanted to continue that inner transformation. At Georgetown, I met professors, advisors and students who modeled genuine compassion, and I knew that JVC could help me become more like them. I was right in my assessment at graduation last May that I still had a lot of room for growth in the values that the Jesuits foster, but I could not have anticipated just how much a year of service and simple living in community could change me.

When I think back to all the things I learned in the past year from the clients experiencing homelessness at the Café and the unemployed clients in the Culinary Training Program, the line between service provider and service recipient is blurred.

I learned the endless power of compassion as I witnessed love between couples and siblings living together on the streets – in how one client would always pull the chair out for his girlfriend as they sat for lunch, or how two sisters bickered loudly during their meals but had each other’s backs once they left the café. I learned that generosity truly does not know the limits of economic status, as one culinary student receiving only $221 of general relief funds per month offered a ride to another who couldn’t afford a $5 bus pass. I learned the power of simple presence as a client thanked me profusely just for listening to her tell me through tears about her eviction notice, even though I had no financial resources and little consolation to offer. I learned that it’s more important to be loving than to be right, as I came to understand that, really, it won’t matter in a few days whether my housemate did the dishes on his assigned night.

In my year as a Jesuit Volunteer, I have learned valuable lessons of the heart that I hope never to forget. Through full-time service to the most marginalized, I have discovered the most genuine qualities within myself. Through living in a seven-volunteer community in a house that surely could not accommodate a seven-volunteer community, I have grown in patience and forgiveness. Through the sacrifice of living on a very small stipend, I have come to understand the real meaning of “needs versus wants.” This past year, I have felt as though I am in just the right place and that I am living as the most authentic version of myself. If it is through service that I can discover my best and most true self, then the only thing that makes sense to me is to use my talents and my education in service of others.

I can give credit to the past year of JVC for inching me closer to being the loving person I long to be, but I could not have known who or what I wanted to be without my experiences at Georgetown, and in particular without the tenets of Jesuit education guiding me. Many people, when they talk about Georgetown’s religious affiliation, do so with hesitancy and with qualifiers: “Well, Georgetown’s Catholic,” they say, “but, it’s really only if you want it to be.” Or, “Yea, Georgetown’s Jesuit, but you can pretty much ignore that if you want.”

It is true that you could easily go four years without stepping into Dahlgren Chapel, but the Jesuit values are so woven into Georgetown’s way of education that actually, they’re pretty hard to miss. You’ll see evidence of “cura personalis” – education of the whole person – in your professors’ commitment to your personal development. You’ll see the “men and women for others” thing not just in the obvious and numerous opportunities at the Center for Social Justice, but also in the way that social justice creeps its way into discussions in every class, from finance to physics. You’ll see it, too, in the expectation that you’ll use your education to advance the common good.

Yet where I think Georgetown’s Jesuit identity is most beautifully woven into the daily experience is in its emphasis on community. From the floor of your freshman residence hall, to the group from your alternative spring break trip, to the cheering section at a basketball game, community is where you least expect it, and where you most need it. Georgetown nurtures this myriad of miniature communities of shared experiences, interests and values -- all centered in a singular Hoya family.

And lucky for me, that Hoya sense of community doesn’t go away after graduation. On one casual Friday recently, I wore a Georgetown t-shirt to work, and one of our clients was just staring at me and cracking up. When I asked him what was so funny, he said, “You went to Georgetown, and now you’re working here?” – referring of course to the Bread and Roses Café where he was dining. I just laughed and gave him a proud Hoya “yes indeed!” but in that moment, I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude to Georgetown for having led me down the path it did. As a matter of fact, 2600 miles away from here, in my small social service agency on Los Angeles’s Westside, there are three Hoyas on staff, second in number only to the UC grads…our basketball team may waver, but that’s a Georgetown stat that I can be proud of. I find myself in good company among Hoyas: No matter what year we graduated, we have all lived in the same spirit of Georgetown. We have all been similarly shaped by the unique experience of a Jesuit education.

With regard to your own forthcoming Georgetown education, I say to you: be selfish. Take advantage of the free-of-cost-but-life-changing lessons that service to the poor has to teach you. Engage with social justice issues in your classes in every department. Contribute to and appreciate the beauty of the Georgetown community. There is a lot to be learned; there are a lot of extraordinary people ready and willing to be your mentors; and there is a lot to be taken from this distinct experience at Georgetown. So go ahead and be selfish: Become the person this Jesuit institution is calling you to be. Hoya Saxa!

(pc Erika Cohen-Derr, who falls into the class of "extraordinary people ready to be mentors")