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

--------------------------------------------------------------

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")

Missed opportunities..

In my ongoing attempt to be present to my community and my clients this year, blogging has fallen to the wayside...and I had so many things I wanted to write about! But the year is ending, and so is my blog, so peruse my list of post ideas, and if anything sparks your interest, bring it up with me in conversation:

-the Sisyphean nature of social work (But, "One must imagine Sisyphus happy.")
-living on $100/month
-how to "win" JVC
-faith in politics
-charity vs. justice
-community and love among homeless
-viewing housing as a right, not a commodity
-community organizing, power (of people and of money)
-movements of silent retreat in Tucson
-tough clients ("Every social worker knows the feeling: you want to assist someone, but that person is a total turnoff...but yet, they are still one fo the 'least of my brothers and sisters' to which Jesus referred.")
-the blessing ($$) and curse of statistics in social work
-how do we achieve peace? (JVC Peace Vigil 2012)
-And the most-over-quoted-yet-still-striking social-justice-related quote: "When I feed the poor, they call me a saint. When I ask why the poor have no food, they call me a communist."

Bubble Gum Alley in San Luis Obispo, CA

This I believe.

This week, we had a community/spirituality night entitled "This I Believe," based on the NPR radio series and the couple books out by the same title. As the introduction to the book says, "This I Believe offers a simple, if difficult invitation: Write a few hundred words expressing the core principles that guide your life -- your personal credo. ... This I Believe is an exercise in philosophical self-examination in a public context. It rises from the grass roots, where people can begin to listen to each other, one at a time." So we each wrote a short essay and read them out loud to each other, one at a time. The task was more difficult than I thought it would be, and I wish I had taken more time to complete my short essay (I wrote it at the end of a long work day, forgot to print it out or email it, then re-wrote it quickly when I got home), but here's what I came up with...

I doubt myself pretty frequently -- my decisions, my plans, my work, my views. Hell, just reading a well-written philosophical piece can temporarily unravel what I consider to be my firmly held beliefs. But I consistently believe in the value of two things: learning and giving. In learning about others, I learn, too, about myself. I seek to understand -- to understand what makes me who I am, you who you are, and them who they are. And in learning about people, I recognize our similarity and equality. I see that we are equal genders, races, ethnicities, cultures, sexual orientations, people. I see that we are uniquely gifted and flawed, myself included, and that these flaws unite us in humble humanity. 

And what's more, as I learn about the world we as people inhabit, I am inevitably drawn to the grandeur of a divine Creator. There are few things more beautiful to me than the mysteries and phenomena of biology -- the ever-turning circle of life, to be sure, but also the intricate turnings of the citric acid cycle, the blob-like-yet-perfectly-folded shape of a protein, the leap from electro-chemical nerve synapses to consciousness. When I marvel at these processes, I turn to God in humility, confusion and adoration. Learning makes me a better person. This I believe. I seek to learn and to marvel always, and to never close my mind to the possibility that I am completely and utterly wrong.

I believe just as assuredly in giving. After all, how can I respond to God's overflowing love in any other way than to be generous with my own love? In giving myself and my love to others -- family, friends and strangers -- I encounter the divine reality of relationship: that we are all a connected community of beings. In service, I encounter God, for it is in loving the unloved that I can most readily mimic God's example and that I can most faithfully bring about the Kingdom of Heaven on Earth. I believe that we can be the best versions of ourselves when we are giving that self away. Because in its essence, "giving" is not just a one-way process; in being present to one another, we become connected. I believe that in the balance of grasping versus sharing, it is sharing that will bring us peace and justice. I believe in giving. I hope that in my life, I will share rather than grasp, and give rather than keep.

I choose to invest my life, and my love, in learning and giving. In so doing, I will be reminded during my times of doubt and questioning of the goodness of God and the beauty of human connection.

ch-ch-ch-changes

As of last Friday, I am no longer working at Bread and Roses Café part-time and am instead working full-time in the culinary training program (CTP). I was part of the decision process in this move, and it comes after four and a half months of me trying to run the administrative side of CTP in just the few afternoon hours I have following Bread and Roses services. I'm looking forward to the chance to really be involved in making changes to the program and helping it reach its potential, but I will also miss Bread and Roses.

My interactions with clients at B&R were not in a case management context, and one could argue that Bread and Roses doesn't contribute too much toward St. Joseph Center's model of self-sufficiency. In the least, it's easy to argue that we lean more towards charity than social justice at B&R. This, though, is what made working at B&R fulfilling in such a unique way.

My stint as café manager was, more than anything else, a ministry of presence. I wasn't the person our clients went to for bus tokens or for help with an SSI application. I was never the one to come up with a harm reduction plan for a client's substance abuse. I wasn't even in charge of whether or not they were signed up for a meal. But, I was consistently present as a fellow person. On a daily basis, I affirmed our clients' dignity by paying attention to them. Perhaps for that 45 minutes that they spend dining at B&R, I could help them know that they are not defined by their present situation of experiencing homelessness. I affirmed their humanity simply by knowing their names. Names are so deeply personal, and the human ache to be known and loved can so easily be soothed by speaking to a person using his or her name.

At first I was hesitant to accept this shift of responsibilities; I wanted so badly (and so selfishly) to hold on to my last few months at Bread and Roses. In the words of Fr. Greg Boyle, "I knew that the poor had some privileged delivery system for giving me access to the gospel" (Tattoos on the Heart), and the clients we serve at Bread and Roses are among the most marginalized and poor, certainly more so than my clients in the Culinary Training Program.

But my faith in the potential of CTP as a program that can promote genuine change in a person's life compels me to let go of my fears -- of missing out on B&R experiences, of disappointing clients, of leaving volunteers in a lurch, and of being inadequate in CTP -- and to look forward. I do hope I am able to feel a sense of fulfillment in my work in CTP over the next few months. Even if I cannot always see the positive effects of our program (students tend to disappear once they receive their certificates), I can at least take pride in the fact that I have made some small but significant contributions to the curriculum and to the efficiency of the program's administration.

So, here's to a great last 11 weeks of JVC, wherever it may take me!


**Regarding the title of this post: I can't say the word "changes" without thinking of that David Bowie song, and in particular the Shrek 2 version of the song.

24 hours in the car

All seven of us spent a total of 24 hours together in the car over the past week...it was a lot of riding- and driving-induced delirium. We had a silent retreat in Tucson and figured this was our chance to fit in a visit to the Grand Canyon, so last Friday after work, we hit the road.

We rolled into Grand Canyon National Park around 2:30 a.m. and had to leave for the sunrise by 4:45 a.m., so there wasn't much sleeping involved. But we piled on to the tarp of our tent (there's no way we could have gotten the tent set up in a reasonable amount of time), and slept under the stars in 39-degree weather. It was cold, but it was all worth it when we woke up for these views:

We also went on a quick hike into the canyon, about an hour round-trip. We would've loved to go further, but we had to make it to Tucson to meet the rest of the SoCal and Arizona JVs for a BBQ. Some highlights, including the appearance of Zig Zag the dashboard Zebra.

Never seen as many cacti as I did at Saguaro National Park in Tucson.

Soundtrack to our trip:

 

The Crucified People

I decided to stick to my commitment to simple living by not flying home for Easter, a tough decision given that this is my first Easter away from family. But as the weekend has unfolded, I've come to see it as an opportunity to reconnect with the spiritual meaning of Easter that I frequently lose sight of when I'm sunbathing (read: sunburning) on the beach on family vacations (not that I have any regrets about that relaxation time). I attended both the Mass of the Lord's Supper on Thursday and the solemn Good Friday liturgy at St. Monica's Parish in Santa Monica, both of which were over two hours long but time well-spent. The liturgies, especially the music (I love Taize chants), were beautiful, but I am moved to reflect on one moment in particular.

On Friday, the homily was not spectacular -- a rare occurrence at St. Monica's -- and by the time we got to the intercessions and adoration of the cross, I wasn't really listening anymore. But I tried to re-center myself as I went forward to adore the cross and receive communion. When I returned to my seat, the couple sitting next to me had left, and someone else had filled it in: a Bread and Roses client. She isn't an everyday client, and she seemed to be in a mental state in which she didn't recognize me, so I just knelt next to her while she sat in the pew.

I immediately thought of a community night that Maria recently led on the topic of liberation theology, a class at Georgetown I regret not taking. I thought of how the cross, beyond its place as an event in history and its meaning for our salvation, must also take on another meaning in every historical setting now and in the future. The question we must ask ourselves is, "Who are the crucified?" Right here and now, who are we, as the people and structures of society, wrongfully oppressing and executing? And further, cui bono? Who stands to benefit from the way society is designed to allow these crucifixions? It is easy, I think, to consider these questions, but the greater challenge is to take it one step further and consider what these means in terms of salvation.

I like what Ignacio Ellacuría, S.J., writes: "It is indeed scandalous to hold the needy and the oppressed as the salvation of the world in history. It is scandalous for many believers who no longer think they see anything striking in the proclamation that the death of Jesus brought life to the world, but who cannot accept in theory, and much less in practice, that today this life-giving death goes by way of the oppressed part of humankind. ... It is easy to regard the oppressed and needy as those who are to be saved and liberated. but it is not easy to see them as saviors and liberators."


So as I prayed last Friday alongside my client, the passion took on a new and deeper meaning. I have a habit of understanding things intellectually long before I recognize their full emotional or spiritual significance, and this was just that: I think it was the first moment that I was truly able to see Jesus in the poor. I accompanied Jesus through the Passion that day in a more meaningful way than ever before.


I prayed for my client next to me, and for all my crucified clients: the mentally ill, the homeless, racial minorities, sexual minorities, and so many more. I prayed for the eyes to continue to see Jesus in those we serve at St. Joseph Center. And I prayed that the joy of Easter would give me strength to serve -- that the knowledge of God's triumphant power to bring life over death, hope over despair, and love over hatred would give me courage to work for peace and justice even amidst death, despair and hatred. May you, too, find life, hope and love this Easter season.

SPRING BREAK!

I am so excited to have a spring break. So. Excited. Everyone at St. Joseph Center demands that we call it "hiatus," rather than "break" or "vacation," but right now I am just relishing in this lovely 10 days I have to myself. I couldn't sleep this morning because I was so pumped about all that I want to do. Some call it not relaxing...I call it zealous self-care. Semantics.

Remembering Romero

"Peace is not the product of terror or fear. Peace is not the silence of cemeteries. Peace is not the silent result of violent repression. Peace is the generous, tranquil contribution of all to the good of all. Peace is dynamism. Peace is generosity. It is right and it is duty."

Oscar Romero (d. March 24, 1980). Presente. 

in praise of pinterest

A lot of my posts lately haven't really been about my JVC experience...but in this case, sorry I'm not sorry, because I need to profess my love for pinterest. It's a social networking site (I've been using it since November or so) where you "pin" websites, photos, recipes, etc. to your public bulletin boards. Anyone can browse, re-pin, like and comment. It's quite fun. It has been criticized for appealing primarily to midwestern and southern housewives, so I'm not sure where that puts me. But at any rate, it's my new Sunday morning ritual to sit in bed for a good 30 minutes pinning new recipes to try and checking out the latest fashion trends. Pinterest is also where I found inspiration for all of my homemade Christmas gifts:

I decorated coasters for Mom and Liz, made a t-shirt pillow for Dan, and decoupaged a frame for Dad.

My favorite part is definitely finding creative recipes. (The ratio of my food-related pins to not-food-related pins is something like 5:1.) I think this is partially because I am somewhat culinary-deficient and need pictures in order to pick out recipes...and pinterest provides. The following pinterest finds that I've made have been popular in CMC. They are by no means works of culinary art, but they are fun and delicious!

There is cookie dough inside of this cupcake. Need I say more? 

I will: The frosting also tastes like a cookie.

Tasted just like a Krispy Kreme, but had the texture of a cupcake.

Eggs on a nest of hash browns (bake the potatoes first with some oil, garlic, salt, pepper, crushed red peppers and, of course, cheese; then bake with an egg; then a little more cheese).

No te salves

A poem my casamate Maria shared with all the Southwest JVs at our Re-Orientation as a call to action in working for social justice.


No te salves / Don’t Save Yourself Mario Benedetti

Don’t remain immobile
At the edge of the road
Don’t freeze the joy
Don’t love with reluctance
Don’t save yourself now
or ever
Don’t save yourself
Don’t fill with calm
Don’t reserve in the world
Only a secure place
Don’t let your eyelids fall
Heavily as judgments
Don’t speak without lips
Don’t sleep without sleepiness
Don’t imagine yourself without blood
Don’t judge yourself without time.
But if
in spite of everything
You can’t help it,
And you freeze the joy,
And you love with reluctance,
And you save yourself now,
And you fill with calm
And you reserve in the world
Only a calm place,
And you let fall your eyelids
Heavily as judgments,
And you speak without lips,
And you sleep without sleepiness,
And you imagine yourself without blood,
And you judge yourself without time,
And you remain immobile
At the edge of the road,
And you save yourself,
Then…
Don’t stay with me.

the best!

Cooper was the best. Or at least, I thought so. There were plenty of times I was the only one who liked him. Anytime he did something good, he was the family dog; but anytime he did something bad, he quickly became "Carolyn's dog." I frequently claimed him as my own (even though I did little more to care for him than for any of the other dogs), just because he was some sort of get-well-slash-welcome-home-from-the-hospital gift in eighth grade. I spent a fair amount of time in the hospital picking out a name for this new dog and settled on "Bella," only to find out that there weren't any female dogs available. So the last of the litter was this chubby stick-of-butter-and-block-of-cheese-stealing fluff ball who never lost his puppy fur.

I don't mean to be dramatic (am I eulogizing a dog?), but Coop was special to me. This summer when I was studying for the MCAT, he came downstairs to the basement every day to visit me. He'd bring his huge stuffed dog and throw it around, then lay down for a bit next to me until he got bored. He kept going downstairs every day even after I took the MCAT, and he was pretty confused as to where I was and why I wasn't sitting in the same desk. He was silly and smelly, and you could rarely convince him to do anything he didn't want to do (I don't think he fetched a ball once in his life), but he was loyal and soft and cute!

R.I.P. Cooper

Hoya Saxa

Our basketball team may struggle from time to time, but this letter sent to the Georgetown community by our president, John DeGioia, makes me proud to be a Hoya. It doesn't matter whether you agree with this Georgetown Law student's position on birth control. What matters is that Rush Limbaugh's personal attacks on those with whom he disagrees are becoming the standard in political discourse in America, and it is not an environment conducive to progress. I'm not sure civil discourse was ever really the norm in my lifetime, but I'm proud of DeGioia standing up for this student's freedom of expression in an eloquent letter.

(Maureen Dowd also wrote about the exchange in her NY Times column this weekend.)

MARCH 2, 2012

Dear Members of the Georgetown Community:

There is a legitimate question of public policy before our nation today.  In the effort to address the problem of the nearly fifty million Americans who lack health insurance, our lawmakers enacted legislation that seeks to increase access to health care. In recent weeks, a question regarding the breadth of services that will be covered has focused significant public attention on the issue of contraceptive coverage.  Many, including the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, have offered important perspectives on this issue.

In recent days, a law student of Georgetown, Sandra Fluke, offered her testimony regarding the proposed regulations by the Department of Health and Human Services before a group of members of Congress.  She was respectful, sincere, and spoke with conviction.  She provided a model of civil discourse.  This expression of conscience was in the tradition of the deepest values we share as a people. One need not agree with her substantive position to support her right to respectful free expression.  And yet, some of those who disagreed with her position – including Rush Limbaugh and commentators throughout the blogosphere and in various other media channels – responded with behavior that can only be described as misogynistic, vitriolic, and a misrepresentation of the position of our student. 

In our vibrant and diverse society, there always are important differences that need to be debated, with strong and legitimate beliefs held on all sides of challenging issues. The greatest contribution of the American project is the recognition that together, we can rely on civil discourse to engage the tensions that characterize these difficult issues, and work towards resolutions that balance deeply held and different perspectives.  We have learned through painful experience that we must respect one another and we acknowledge that the best way to confront our differences is through constructive public debate.  At times, the exercise of one person’s freedom may conflict with another’s.  As Americans, we accept that the only answer to our differences is further engagement. 

In an earlier time, St. Augustine captured the sense of what is required in civil discourse: "Let us, on both sides, lay aside all arrogance.  Let us not, on either side, claim that we have already discovered the truth.  Let us seek it together as something which is known to neither of us.  For then only may we seek it, lovingly and tranquilly, if there be no bold presumption that it is already discovered and possessed."

If we, instead, allow coarseness, anger – even hatred – to stand for civil discourse in America, we violate the sacred trust that has been handed down through the generations beginning with our Founders.  The values that hold us together as a people require nothing less than eternal vigilance.  This is our moment to stand for the values of civility in our engagement with one another.

Sincerely,

John J. DeGioia
President
Georgetown University

Originally posted at http://www.georgetown.edu/message-civility-public-discourse.html

"Shame on Ceasar! ... Seniors! ... Cedars! I meant Cedars!"

A couple weeks ago for one of our community nights we attended a candlelit vigil/protest of the closing of the psych ward at Cedars-Sinai Hospital in L.A. This is the latest in a trend of psychiatric services being cut across the state, including MediCal cutting much of its coverage for psych services. Most of us work with persons with mental illness in some capacity or another, so we see daily how essential these outpatient and inpatient services are. I'm happy that one of the speakers at the vigil made the point of saying that without psychiatric care, many people would end up in prison or on the streets. Unfortunately, the decision has already been made, and plans are already being carried out to close the 60-bed psych ward at Cedars, but we attended the vigil to help make the point that mental health is just as important as any other piece of healthcare. As a psychology major, it's natural for me to consider mental illness as a part of overall health, but there is certainly still a stigma attached to disorders of the brain.

After the vigil, we walked around the massive block of buildings that makes up Cedars Sinai, chanting "Cedars must reconsider!" and "Shame on Cedars!" Try repeating that for about 20 minutes at a high volume. I kept saying things like "Shame on Ceasar!' and "Shame on seniors!" And my voice was pretty hoarse at work the  next day...

love is in the air

My favorite poem about love.

"Nothing is more practical than finding God, that is, than falling in love in a quite absolute, final way. What you are in love with, what seizes your imagination, will affect everything. It will decide what will get you out of bed in the mornings, what you will do with your evenings, how you spend your weekends, what you read, who you know, what breaks your heart, and what amazes you with joy and gratitude. Fall in love, stay in love, and it will decide everything."

-Pedro Arrupe, former Superior General of the Society of Jesus

-----

happy valentine's day!

Quote for an Exhausted JV

"Pray as if everything depended on God, and work as if everything depended on you." My dad often cites this St. Ignatius quote when I'm stressed/burnt-out/lacking motivation. The idea of working as if everything depended on you seems kind of daunting, and I never really found the quote that comforting (sorry, Dad)...until this week when I hit a seriously low point at work and needed to find some solace. So I was looking around the interwebz for the exact citation of this Ignatian quote, and I stumbled upon some interesting findings. First of all, it turns out this particular quote is actually attributed to St. Augustine. But Ignatius did say something similar: "Trust in God, as if the whole course of events depends on you and not on God, but fully implement your plans as if nothing needs to be done by you, but only by God." In short, pray as if everything depended on you, and work as if everything depended on God.


Here's why I like Iggy's original quote (a quote which was later reversed because people thought it was an error, and also perhaps stolen from Augustine, but no one here is concerned about saintly plagiarism):


If I prayed as if everything depended on me, I would be quick to realize my shortcomings. Recognizing that I need God's help, I would pray for the graces of understanding, compassion, and wisdom. I would need to pray for the strength to carry on. I would need to pray for forgiveness. And I would pray with a sense of urgency.


And if I worked as if everything depended on God, then I would be working with inspiration much deeper than my own personal motivation. A Jesuit blogger says it better than I could: "If I work as if everything depends on God, then I will go forward with greater confidence and energy, since the work to be done is in more capable hands than my own. If the outcome is in God’s hands, then I will perhaps be able to persevere in the face of opposition and apparent poor results. If it all depends on God, then I will not hesitate to 'step out of the boat,' out of my own comfort zone, as I try to serve. And if God is in charge, then [God] will not allow my mistakes to ruin [God's] work, but will make all things work together unto good."


Now that is an idea I can take solace in. I shall carry it with me this week as I try to find peace amidst some challenging and painful realities about my own deficiencies.

TO DO, AMDG

One of the speakers at JVC Orientation in August offered a piece of funny and appropriate advice that I hadn't thought about again until recently. The Jesuits tend to cite their motto pretty frequently: ad majorem Dei gloriam, which means "for the greater glory of God." The idea is that every act, even those that aren't overtly spiritual, can be spiritually fruitful when done "for the greater glory of God"...so the suggestion to JVs for times of doubting the value of our daily work was to add "AMDG" to the end of every item on your to-do list. Well, to say that I'm going through a doubting Thomas phase at work would be an understatement, so I gave it a shot.

-Update CTP monthly stats for the greater glory of God
-Send notice of referral to Legal Aid ad majorem Dei gloriam
-make February check-in calls to graduates ad majorem Dei gloriam
-make CTP recruitment calls AMDG (and ASAP)
-enter clts into family center database for the greater glory of God
-enter B&R meals into db for the greater glory of God
-do laundry AMDG
-write recommendation letter for casamate AMDG
-write fellowship application essay AMDG


Only AMDG can make database entry seem exciting and glorious...

one more year?

I'm applying for an additional year of JVC. Crazy? Maybe...but no more so than it was to move across the country in the first place to share oh-so-limited resources with six strangers who are intensely passionate about working with the marginalized. To share some insight into my crazed mind, here is an excerpt of my application, from the essay prompt about motivations. It's not my finest literary work, but I think it aptly depicts why I am even considering this next leap of faith...

--------------------------------------------------

       I wrote in my application to JVC last year that “I see JVC as an opportunity to adapt an orientation of myself towards others and towards the world -- an orientation of self-giving love, rather than selfishness and greed.” I could not have understood the degree to which that statement would be true just one year later. I could not have understood how working intimately with the marginalized would motivate me to fight for change; how living in a community would nurture my faith; or how running out of cash could make me reassess “necessities.” Although I had previously accepted the values of JVC on face value, actually living them has begun forming me into the loving person I long to be. I know that there is much room for still further growth before I will have the confidence and courage to truly integrate these counter-cultural ideals into my life beyond JVC.

      In this sense, my motivations for applying for an additional year are much the same as they were last year. Yet this year, I apply with greater conviction and understanding. I apply with the knowledge that being loving to community members does not always mean being “nice,” and that giving of myself fully to clients requires more than a solid work ethic. I apply with a genuine enthusiasm to continue along the path of growth as a self-giving and loving woman for others, rooted in an Ignatian sense of spirituality. Being a JV this year has made me certain that I want to commit my life to social justice -- and in particular to work at the intersection of medicine and social justice. My work this year has also convinced me of the type of physician I long to be: one that treats each patient with dignity and respect regardless of socioeconomic status, and one that advocates for justice in the systems that preclude some from necessary healthcare. I know that an additional year of JVC would foster the attitude and conviction I need in order to develop into this person.

      I also know that an additional year of JVC would be challenging, and in many ways more so than this current year. Simply maintaining the level of energy I have now for both my placement and my community will be a challenge. I had not anticipated how much effort would be required to support community after a long day of working, but I believe in the fruits of community enough to put in that effort. I anticipate being challenged by the transition to a new community, too. Beyond uprooting myself from the known to the unknown, I foresee facing a constant temptation to judgmentally compare my new community to Casa Maura Clarke. I acknowledge that the mental comparisons sometimes cannot be avoided and may be valuable, but I do hope to keep my self-judgment to a minimum. Whether or not I live in an additional year community, I know that my views toward community will be shaded by the successes and failures of my present community; I hope to learn to appreciate these insights without imposing upon the organic development of my new community.

      I believe I have been more present in the past six months than at any point during my college career. Unlike my previous life of constant stress over future plans, I have been taking each day and learning from my interactions with new and familiar people. I know that I will struggle next year to balance presence to community and clients with my goal to simultaneously apply for medical programs. However, I hope to find inspiration in the knowledge that this presence to my JV years will positively impact my life as a student and physician.

      I desire to accept these challenges, and to continue grappling with the challenges I currently face in my JV year. I want to live in closer solidarity with the individuals I serve. I want to commit to a simple lifestyle beyond my superficial acceptance of the challenge to make it through each month within stipend. I want to nurture the strong drive for social justice that the past few months have planted in me. There are many ways in which I hope to strengthen my commitment to the JVC values, and I am excited by the opportunity to do so in the next year and a half. 

Boring, but true. Cheers to you for reading this far.

Beautiful Beaches

These are the moments when I think I could live in California forever...

...don't worry, mom and dad, I'll come home eventually.

The benefit of the doubt

How would your life be different if you believed that everyone was always doing his or her best under the circumstances? Like really, truly believed that each person is acting to the best of his or her ability? And not only believed it, but treated others as though you believed it?

I, for one, would be less frustrated with the current situation at my placement. I would be less resentful toward the huge responsibilities put on me, and more genuinely committed to working for the best interest of my clients.

There have been times at work in the past six months that I've felt I haven't been given the benefit of the doubt, or that I haven't been treated as though I am trying my best. I ask for the benefit of the doubt, but I, too, must reciprocate.

Silver lining: discovering the beauty of community

I feel ashamed for having posted so little about community. Part of the reason for this is laziness: I'm too lazy to explain to people outside of intentional communities what it means to be living in one. Part of the reason is that there are so many intricate pieces of community that it's difficult to make generalizations in giving said explanation. Part of the reason is that I'm still coming to understand what exactly intentional community means for me.

But the happenings of the past few weeks demand that I reflect on community, and perhaps the best way to illuminate the importance of CMC is to share examples of community "working" and functioning at its best. Indeed, I'm pretty sure the reasons that I have survived the past two weeks at work are my resolution to be more patient, this song played on repeat, and the support of my community.

Background story. I am currently doing three jobs at work: my own two jobs as cafe manager at Bread and Roses and case manager with the Culinary Training Program (CTP), and now also the job of "program manager" of CTP (the program manager is on leave). Now, the position of program manager is several pay grades above mine (that is to say, above not being paid), and it is a pretty hefty job to just wake up one day and have without asking for. Since case management meetings and notes took up the bulk of my time in CTP, I had previously done very little to help with the administrative side of running CTP, making it all the more difficult to figure out what to do when I became the sole administrator. I could go on, but needless to say, I have been a little bit very stressed about this whole situation.

Enter CMC.

My community of seven has been a source of support all year, but especially as I cope with these [hopefully] temporary changes at work. I feel safe being myself in the environment of CMC, and I feel comfortable bringing up challenging issues, be they personal or communal. Each person brings their own strengths and weaknesses; their own experiences and values; and their own challenges. Each person has supported me in a different way in the past two weeks...Sarah has been an incredible listener; Jackie has managed to make this ridiculousness seem funny; Megan has offered spiritual advice; Emily has shared her resources as I try to design the job search curriculum of CTP; Maria jumped at the opportunity to bash SJC; and Kevin has played cards and drunk beer with me.

I do know (and if you know me, then you know, too) that I am prone to exaggeration. But while I may be playing up the stress at work (my anxiety is probably still less than it was any given day at Georgetown), I am not exaggerating how happy I am to be living in the intentional community of CMC this year. I do not think I could be introduced to social work in any other way and come out of the year anything but jaded.

I'll conclude this long, rambling post with a quote from Jean Vanier, founder of the L'Arche communities (one of which I volunteered at as a freshman at Georgetown):

Each member of a community who grows in love and wisdom helps the growth of the whole community. Each person who refuses to grow, or is afraid to go forward, inhibits the community's growth. All the members of a community are responsible for their own growth and that of the community as a whole.

Perhaps the most essential quality for anyone who lives in community is patience: a recognition that we, others and whole community, take time to grow. If we are to live in community, we have to be friends of time.

MLK's Dream

Happy Martin Luther King, Jr. Day! Although MLK is known for his role in a very particular social movement, this nobel laureate's ideas about social justice and change are clearly applicable to the many challenges we face in society today. I want to share a few provocative quotes from Dr. King, as well as what I think is an interesting (and spot-on) take on King's legacy from the NYTimes Sunday Review this weekend.

This must have been an incredible moment to experience.

"Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly."

There are a lot of reasons why I choose to fight for social justice, even when I myself am fortunate (through my happenstance birth as an upper-middle-class white woman) not to face most of these injustices day-to-day, and this (above) is one of them.

"Power without love is reckless and abusive, and love without power is sentimental and anemic. Power at its best is love implementing the demands of justice, and justice at its best is power correcting everything that stands against love."

For a community night in November, Maria led our community in a great discussion about power (the community organizing group she works for is called POWER, and power is a critical part of community organizing). It's interesting to think about the power that each person has within his or her own community.


"One of the great liabilities of history is that all too many people fail to remain awake through great periods of social change. Every society has its protectors of status quo and its fraternities of the indifferent who are notorious for sleeping through revolutions. Today, our very survival depends on our ability to stay awake, to adjust to new ideas, to remain vigilant and to face the challenge of change."

Is complacency, then, a society's greatest enemy in the movement towards justice? Perhaps, and this is as much an incrimination of myself as it is of our nation's ability to sweep injustices under the rug when they don't directly impact the majority of us as individuals (which brings us back to the first quote...).

What injustice would Dr. King be non-violently working against if he were alive today? Nobel-prize-winning economist and NYTimes columnist Paul Krugman says, in sum, "Goodbye, Jim Crow, hello class system." After a discussion about the lack of mobility in societies of great economic inequality, his concluding paragraph speaks volumes:

"Mitt Romney says that we should discuss income inequality, if at all, only in 'quiet rooms.' There was a time when people said the same thing about racial inequality. Luckily, however, there were people like Martin Luther King who refused to stay quiet. And we should follow their example today. For the fact is that rising inequality threatens to make America a different and worse place -- and we need to reverse that trend to preserve both our values and our dreams." 

And, finally, just because it makes me think, one last King quote..."Life's most persistent and urgent question is: What are you doing for others?"

This year I resolve to...

Be more patient. 


Keep in touch with friends and family.


Pray daily, and get a spiritual director here in L.A.


Be more intentional about how I spend my personal stipend.


Keep physical fitness and healthy eating a priority.


Get accepted to medical school.

Hello, January.

Happy new year!