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).