What Are We Doing?

Today at her daily press briefing (lol) Press Secretary Sarah Huckabee Sanders defended the cruel separation of parents from children by saying “It is biblical to follow laws.”

Two things.

1. No it isn’t.

2. It’s not the law to steal children from their asylum seeking parents and stuff them in prison camps.

The Bible can be vague on certain things. Jesus speaks in lots of parables and word games, but on this, Jesus is explicit and clear:

Matthew 25:35

“For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed meFor I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me.”

Luke 10:27

“And he answered, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself.”

The Hebrew Scripture (Old Testament) is even more explicit:

"So you too should love the resident alien, for that is what you were in the land of Egypt." Deuteronomy 10:19

Furthermore,  it is explicitly not biblical to follow unjust laws, or to hide behind law as a smokescreen for other heinous actions. See: the healing of the man on the sabbath (Mark 3:1-6) and the exceedingly specific woes upon the Pharisees (Luke 11:37-54, Matt 23:1-39).

My point, here, however, is not to argue with the twisted fundamentalist distortion of the Christian scriptures. 

My point here is to ask:

What are we doing?

Kids—eight month old babies, being ripped away from their parents, separated from their siblings, and thrown into an old abandoned Walmart, shuffled past a mural of Donald Trump with a vaguely ominous and nonsensical slogans and given strictly enforced times to run around, eating in mess halls that look like prison cafeterias.

Children  have been “taken “by Border Patrol agents who said they were going to give them a bath. As the hours passed, it dawned on the mothers the kids were not coming back.””

I’ve been blogging into the wind long enough to have no illusions that this will be read by more than six people, but what else can I do? I sit here and I see what is happening and I am at turns terrified and furious. This is systematic oppression of a minority. It is a cruelty explicitly instated at the federal level that is unprecedented in the modern era.

I see people constantly say “This is not who we are.”

But isn’t it?

Isn’t this exactly who we are and who we have been for years? 

I know that we’ve been keeping immigrants, including children, locked up in detention centers on the border for years. Not too long ago, I spent an evening flooding my congressman’s Facebook page with images of ICE detention centers, trying in vain to get the racist entitled old white man to back a humane immigration system.

This is a country of racism—institutionally and culturally. We throw black kids and black men into jails over minor offenses, and leave them there for the rest of their lives. Around 13% of the population of the United States  is African American. They make up 35% of jail inmates and 37% of prison inmates. Back in 2009, almost a full 5% of all African American adult males were incarcerated.

And this is what we do to kids on the border, just because they’re brown.

Donald Trump and his Republican Party continue to criminalize all non-white Christians. They’ve banned Muslims from coming into the country, made social media checks a standard practice, want to crack down on minor drug offenses that inordinately impact black men, they scapegoat Mexicans as murderers and gang members. “Animals,” they say, then get defensive and clarify they’re just talking about MS-13, even though everyone knows they only use MS-13 to mask their virulent racism. In defense of the White Supremacist killing of a protestor, Donald Trump said there were “Good people on both sides.”

There was a time it almost seemed like we were getting better, right? But the sheer hate for a black man being in charge caused the racist underbelly of this nation to erupt and claw its way into the mainstream of American society.

He was born in Kenya.

He’s a Muslim who wants to overtake the nation and throw it into Sharia law.

They cloak their hate in Christ and St. Paul. They dare us to “defy” the leader at our peril. They want to put in place a Theocratic Authoritarian state wherein their conception of Christianity (one that defies all calls toward mercy, service and preferential treatment of the poor) is the law of the land. Where being an immigrant is a crime, where to be Muslim is to be second class, where being black defines you as less worthy of decency and respect.

Listen, I am Catholic. I am not against your faith being an important part of your political life, and informing your views. 

But this is not the same thing. 

Jesus lays it out clearly for us:

34 “Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. 35 For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, 36 I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’

37 “Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? 38 When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? 39 When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’

40 “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’

We are meant to support the broken and battered and beaten. We are meant to share our wealth with the poor, to literally share our table with the outcast.

We dance around these threats of authoritarianism and say “it can never happen here,” but it has happened and continues to happen before our eyes as we sit and watch children ripped away from their mothers at the border. Mothers escaping violence, fearing for their lives, who come to this country because we have told the world: You are welcome here.

The Trump administration is doing damage to a lot of things. It is ostracizing us from our global allies, throwing money away at corporations, flirting with authoritarians abroad.

As a nation, we can come back from economic downturns. You can fix broken international trade relationships.

What is much harder to come back from is this moral rot at the center of this country, the one we have ignored for over 250 years, that has returned to remind us that we are a nation of delusion. 

We are fed American exceptionalism. We are fed the lie that we are the “Greatest country in the World.”

All as we imprison black men at alarming rates. As we lock up children on the border. As we penalize the poor and rip healthcare away from the sick. As they cloak it in lies and twist their religious texts into justification for their cruelty and their greed.

This country is battered and bruised and sick and we all sit here on our phones and our computers. We balk and laugh at the antics of a foolish, racist man and his cronies of racists, oligarchs, and authoritarians. We have ignored the clear signs of a broken political life, content to assume that others will vote for the right person, or lying to ourselves that “all politicians are the same.” These things don’t affect me. They won’t be as bad as everyone says.

What are we doing when we sit and see the horror of broken families, broken because we fed them a lie, and we do nothing? 

What will it take for the dam to burst, for things to be so morally repugnant and unacceptable that we are shaken from our apathy? What will it take me to do more than sit here and type words into the void? 

We are at a moral tipping point. This is beyond politics as we have ever known it in this country. This is egregiously abnormal, and we are lied to at every turn and told we are overreacting. This is beyond political parties and even religious vs. nonreligious. How do we come back from accepting, as a society, forcing severe trauma upon innocent children? All to benefit the engines of war and oppression? 

This is not even the worst of it. Literal camps are coming, “tent cities” built by our government to house kids stolen from their parents. Tent cities in the triple digit summer Texas heat. We'll find euphemisms to avoid calling these encampments what they are. We've seen it before. 

I have no answers. We have sat by and allowed a federal police force to round up and detain immigrants with no due process in inhumane conditions for years.  We have let this fester because it is easier not to think about. Are we too late? 

You can call your representatives—but banking on a Republican politician to care about institutionalizing racism is like asking a tiger to change its stripes. It just does not happen. But what else is there for us to do? 

We can vote -- and the only moral vote to put an end to these deeply racist, deeply dangerous, and deeply immoral policies is one to remove every Trump sycophant and enabler in Congress.

But these heinous attitudes do not end whenever Trump and his kind are out of politics. They are a part of the American fabric. Is there any coming back? Is there redemption for the American soul?

What are we doing?

What are we doing?

"Solidarity"

I finished up my year with JVC last week...but this is something I wrote a couple weeks ago in my journal. I may perhaps update again with some general thoughts on my year.

I am not poor. I have never been poor. One of the goals of JVC is to foster a sense, a feeling, of solidarity with the poor. Standing with them. Of course, I am not really poor. At the end of every month I knew another $100 is coming. My housing is paid for. Heck, I even got a car to get me to work that I pay no bills on. And if anything really serious ever came up, I knew I could ask my parents for help. So I've never felt what many people in the neighborhoods that Verb serves undoubtedly feel.

I have never had to worry over when a next paycheck would come. If I qualify for government assistance. If my EBT will cover the food for my children.

But I do feel a changed perspective--a more nuanced understanding. I know the frustration of relying on publi transportation in a sprawling city wiht an unreliable schedule. The tenuousness of plans when they rely on such a system. Even how it can cost someone their job. I have felt a small (tiny) dose of the shame that comes from not being able to afford things. In a consumer society so much of a person's value is inherently linked to what they can afford. And for a man that is so intrinsically linked to ones masculinity and perception of self. You grow bitter not being able to take your girlfriend out on a date--embarrassed, less self-confident. This I've struggled with a lot. Our sense of self is so tied up with wealth or lack thereof.

How can we, as a society, criticize the poor for providing their children with video games or smart phones when so much of our society expects and pressures people to conform to certain standards. We judge people based on their possessions, so how can we stare down our noses when a parent tries to spare their child the shame of not-having? I see this sentiment so often and it breaks my heart.

Until you cannot afford those things you take for granted, how can you understand how wrapped-up our sense of worth is tied to our net worth? How can you judge another for trying to escape the shame placed on them by the people who have--the people who decide the norm?

It's embarrassing to not have money. I don't know how to even describe my money situation this last year. I feel vulnerable, open to mockery or just at risk of not being understood. I am trying to explore the danger of associating my self worth with my income. And yet I so often fail. I worry about dates, housing, marriage in the future, kids, careers, vacations...the things I want down the road, and so I tie myself tighter to these destructive ideals. A man's worth especially is so intimately entwined with his bank account in our society.

"Solidarity" is a sometimes frustrating word and increasingly meaningless to me. I honestly couldn't define it for you at this point in my life. I know I am not truly standing in the same place as those I have served this year. If I were I'd live in gang territory. I'd feel persecuted for the color of my skin. I'd know someone dead from drugs or violence. All on top of the normal consumer desires thrown at us constantly on tv, in music, and every other facet of our popular culture. And I'd know I can't afford any of it. Not if I'm going to stay off the streets. But the world teaches our young people they need things. To fit in. To be judged as acceptable. We are shamed into spending our money, and the poor are villainized for trying to conform.

I only know a little of what it feels like to feel the shame of being "poor." But I do know that as a society that so defines itself on its wealth is a society that needs advocates, that needs analysis and change and greater equality and understanding.

Beneath the Surface

It's a gray day today in Los Angeles. I don't know why it bothers me so much here. Like I expect every day to be sunny and warm here. Like the sun owes it to me to be always shining here. I come from somewhere that rain is common, where weather is seasonal. And yet here...any time the sun fails to warm the streets of this city, I get angry, like I'm entitled to be comfortable at all times simply because I'm in LA.

I think the sun makes people selfish here.  Maybe it's part of what contributes to the fictitiousness of the city, the surface-level, self-absorbedness of it all.

This city forgets itself.

What people know about LA--what people talk about is not the history, the truth of LA. The richness and texture of it.

I hate LA.

But I hate the traffic the industry the surfaceness. Los Angeles is known for one thing--Hollywood. The celebrities, the movie industry.

I saw yesterday photos commemorating the 21st anniversary of the Los Angeles Riots. I didn't even know they had ever happened. I had never heard of them. No one talks about them. I heard about the Watts riots in the 60s, vaguely, before I came, but never heard a thing about them since I've been here. The actual culture, the actual history, of Los Angeles is veiled by "LOS ANGELES," the Universal Studios, Beverly Hills, glamorous life that...doesn't encapsulate even a portion of what this city is.

I was reading Steve Martin's most recent book, An Object of Beauty, at one point he describes a view from a particular point in the city (emphasis mine), "The views that skimmed just over the top of the city gave sunsets an extra redness and positively affirmed that Los Angeles could be beautiful."

There's a poignant truth in there. There's hints of something lovely. Palm trees are nice to look at, it's right near the beach (but so is New Jersey...), there are some nature trails and hikes...but, as a whole LA is... freeways and brown grass. Stone buildings and gated windows. The things that I have found the most beauty in in LA is architecture; man made things.

The LA Riots resulted from class and race issues. Inequality and prejudice. Economic disparity.

Some of these things are better...race relationships have improved, in general. Gang violence is less than it was.

But class...class and economic disparity. That hasn't changed. Polls and surveys tell the story as much as anything else; people in LA feel that the economic inequality has only grown. And while there is not that same anger as a result of racial persecution and abuse of police power, people are still being crushed and oppressed by this city. By a lack of awareness, a lack of depth. There is a glut of consumerism and self-absorption.

But drive down South Central Ave and in seconds you see the truth... There is poverty and homelessness. S Central is nothing like Downtown, nothing like Beverly Hills.

Walk from the heart of downtown just a short ways and you hit Skid Row. The homeless capital of the United States.

But there are some beautiful things about Los Angeles...

There is Homeboy and Boyle Heights. There is Chinatown and Koreatown. The shops on S Central owned by families. Small shops. Local vendors. Latino cultural celebrations.

This city forgets itself. It could be beautiful, if only the sun didn't shine so much.


For more info about the LA Riots (I read a lot about them today)
The Wikipedia Page (centralizes a lot of news articles...fascinating.)
RIOT IN LOS ANGLES: Pocket of Tension; A Target of Rioters, Koreatown Is Bitter, Armed and Determined
George Bush's Televised Address about the Riots
Want to Understand the 1992 LA Riots? Start with the 1984 LA Olympics
Korea Town changes as a result of "Saigu"

The city during the riots in '92 Click for gallery.

First time I've ever done personal journaling as a comic book.

True Heroes Under God

"You are all THUGS: True Heroes Under God."

If I could capture the essence of Verbum Dei, this brilliant piece of wordplay spoken by one of our JEDIS (Jesuit Educated Disciples in Service, the student campus ministry team), would be it. Verb is located in Watts, right on South Central Avenue and adjacent to the Nickerson Gardens Housing Projects, one of the largest housing projects in the US. Verb serves young men from the surrounding communities who come from low-income backgrounds. These inner-city boys have not had much access to quality education and many have not had much access to safety or stability. Verb provides that. The boys like to think of themselves as tough guys. They're teenagers, and most of them have huge egos. But they're much more than that outer bravado, more than just "thugs," which the world is most likely to think of a black or latino kid from South Central. They are "men with and for others."

I’ve struggled a lot this year with feeling useless. It's been difficult dealing with homesickness, a long distance relationship, and community obligations. A lot of it crept into work. Sometimes I feel like I've made a mistake, or that I would be doing better for the people I love if I hadn't left. What am I really doing for the students at Verb? As an introvert, my job has been challenging. There are days I don't feel like I'm doing anything. I've sat and pondered and written and reevaluated the choices and experiences that brought me to Los Angeles. I've spent many long nights and shed a few tears because of this heartache. I've thought about leaving.

But something has kept me here the last six months; what exactly that is has eluded me. In many ways I feel like things would move forward in exactly the same way at my placement were I to leave. My contribution is pretty minimal, all things considered.

Did I really come here to make a difference? I don't think I ever truly believed I was going to change any lives. Sure, I thought I was better prepared for the transition and that I would be able to be more active and involved, but even if I were…would I recognize that? I have a hunch that at my job, when day-to-day I see students and am there for really nothing else than to hang out I wouldn't ever really feel like I was doing any good. I've helped out writing a few college essays, answered a few questions, but have I really done anything for the boys at Verb? I don't know. I probably never will. And so my job has been a struggle. Day-to-day I never know what work is going to be like. Some days I've sat and done little more than paperwork and punched service hours into an excel file. Other days I've sat and helped a student pour over his Common App supplements and essays. Chatted about video games during lunch.  What good are these things?

And so, again, I returned to what brought me here. That's when I realized: I came to LA for myself. This has been a harrowing realization. Is that selfish? I came here to learn. To discover more of myself and the world and my place in it. On more than one occasion before I came here I wondered if I would come away with things to write about.

Sometimes I feel exploitative, wanting these things. I can't imagine any JV doesn't feel this way at times. But I think it’s more self-important to think I could come here and fix anything or make some kind of significant impact or change a person's life. This isn't my world, I’m just a small part of it.

But, still, at work I struggle a lot with not doing much. My housemates have amazing jobs doing direct service work at placements in which they are integral parts of the operation. My title has "assistant" right there at the end of it.

I think the real selfishness is thinking that anything I do can really make a difference.

"Don't set out to change the world," Father Greg Boyle said at a conference I attended recently, "Set out to wonder how other people are doing. And the world will change around you."

Every once in a while things happen at work and I get why I'm here.

The quote I opened with was spoken at our Junior Retreat. The day closed with a simple activity: stand up if this statement applies to you. Statements included being victims of abuse (physical, sexual), feeling judged or unsafe because of race, coming from a single-parent household, knowing someone in a gang, having thoughts of suicide, drug use, feeling depressed more than happy, feeling fear walking down the street, and more. Far too many kids stood up for each and every statement. These are 16,17 year old boys. The amount that they've been through broke my heart. And then immediately after they repaired it and inspired me. The students went in a circle and said how they felt about the activity. Several of these boys defied their gender stereotypes and expressed their love for the entire class and thanked their classmates, said they would do anything for any one of their brothers. One student was so moved and angered by what people stood up for, and simply wanted to express his love for each person. He wanted to help anyone who ever needed him. He started to cry and the entire class came and embraced him. This is but a small slice of that two hours…and it certainly does it no justice.

I have never felt so privileged and humbled to be a witness to something.

And this, I think, is what I come to: maybe I am mostly importantly a witness. Maybe I'm not here to help any one individual, maybe I'm meant to be a voice, to share these stories… To cry out in anger how unjust this world can be for condemning these talented, loving, intelligent THUGs, simply because they were born here. To refuse to accept when people sit there and tell me that poverty is a result of laziness when these boys work so hard to get to college and everything in their life is stacked against them. When their parents or guardians work so hard to provide them with a quality education.

I never thought I'd save any lives…I just wanted to know their lives. And in the knowing, maybe I can help challenge others to see the reality that these boys live, simply because I was there to witness it.

Normal Activity

Today, the director of Paranormal Activity came to Verb to talk to the Film Club. I'm not a particular fan of that movie (in fact I rather dislike it) but I wasn't going to say no to an opportunity to hear someone speak about the film industry.

So in general it was pretty interesting, the way Paranormal Activity was made and distributed is very strange and uncommon, but as a whole there was nothing particularly noteworthy. In fact, the guy seems like a one-trick pony (he hasn't made anything since the first one, really). I already don't remember much of what he said.

But at the end of his Q&A, one of the students asked what he would change about the film industry. He said he'd want to see less people in it just to make lots of money at the expense of the art. Then the student was asked what he would like to see changed, to which the young man responded, "More diversity. There's hardly any African Americans in movies."

Well, that really struck me. I was taken aback by the fact that this student is already incredibly aware of the disparity in our society between those of us who are white and minorities. Working here has already made me much more sensitive about the need for change in our society in terms of economic opportunity, yes but even just in the way we promote what is normal through TV, and movies, and every other facet of pop culture that feeds our cultural view of what is "normal," or preferred.

I've noticed the race-gap in TV and movies, (I'm well aware that there haven't been any black superheroes on the big screen, yet.) but it doesn't affect me very much so I don't really think about it at all. I never realized how prevalent and obvious it must be to people who aren't white (or straight, or have disabilities). It's something that people must pick up on quickly. There aren't very many famous people to be role models because the entertainment industry is so primarily white and we just tend to display that as normal and ignore, and I'm not saying it's purposeful, the fact that America is so diverse.

And many of the most prevelant African Americans in pop culture tend to be rappers and that whole culture isn't exactly a positive message for young people, and there are times in my day-to-day where I can definitely see that desire to identify with that part of culture crop up. Part of it, too, comes from the neighborhoods in this area that are so filled with crime and gangs and things of that nature, but there is an air around so many of these boys that they have to put on a tough face and have an attitude and be difficult.

I was reading a few personal statements for college apps recently, and one student wrote about  how growing up he thought he had to be a tough guy to be popular, to meet girls, and be successful.  He grew up in Inglewood, which has a lot of gang activity. He talked about how all he cared about was getting girls like the gangmembers and tough dudes in his school. He went on to explain, however, that there was a local gang that had a problem with latinos and one day walking home from the bus he was mugged. Deciding he had to keep his tough guy image, he wasn't willing to cooperate and wound up with a gun to his head. He explained that this experience changed his entire system of values, and he realized that his perception had been skewed and that if he really wanted a good life and a successful life he should focus on his academics, go to college, and then become a positive role model for other people like him from areas like his. I'm sure this young man isn't the only one with a story like this, and the opportunity Verb provides is simply amazing.

Back to the original observation about lack of diversity...it's such a simple, obvious thing, and yet I never really considered the ramifications of it. Obviously I have known that this was a thing that existed, I've talked about it, I've read about it, I've observed it, but knowing it in my head is a different thing than being here with young people who are very aware of it, who live with those implications and point them out. I never really understood how much it plays into people's lives. That, and what the kids on the Urban Plunge observed about noticing the number of minorities  that were coming in for food really make me feel that inequality for the first time.

And it really angers me. There is no reason that someone should feel abnormal or less important than anyone else just because they're from somewhere else, because their skin color is different. Why should that be such a factor in your economic future? Why should it be a yardstick for how much you are able to think you can accomplish simply because there are less people like you who are successful? Or at least not as many depicted as being successful. There needs to be a change in the way our society functions, the way we consider our economy and the people who are poor, because we all deserve to have the opportunity to never have to consider yourself abnormal.

And as this is election day I can't help but wonder what tomorrow brings. Because I firmly believe that if one of the two candidates is elected then these boys and millions more like them will feel even more marginalized, it will be even more difficult for smart, passionate, good kids from poor  neighborhoods to succeed, and why? Because their parents need food stamps and can't find a job. And that's their fault, according to so many people in this country. This is not the way we should treat others. I wish everyone could just see what I see every day...there is no rich or poor or middle class person. There are only people.

Urban Plunge

What a fun time this last weekend was. From Friday October 19 to Sunday October 21st I spent my time with nine students on a service weekend we call the "Urban Plunge." It's a service immersion experience downtown, and in the local LA area where we work for and serve the some of the people in LA experiencing homelessness.

I was really looking forward to this opportunity because Krista, my supervisor, explained that the Urban Plunge seemed to be the moment where the previous JVs began to feel comfortable in the position. And last year's JV, who I contacted about my difficulties said the same thing. So I was really looking forward to this from the beginning of my time at Verb.

We stayed the weekend at Dolores Mission, a fantastic church in Boyle Heights that has a long history of serving a neighborhood entrenched in violence and poverty. DM is an awesome Jesuit parish with some really awesome priests and a dedication to making their community a safe space. The masses are some of the best I've ever been to and I immediately felt like I was part of a community in coming there. The sermons are socially relevent, talk about justice issues and the people are incredibly involved in the mass, taking part in sharing prayer intentions, celebrating birthdays, anniversaries, and first time visiters. It's just awesome. The only other time I've enjoyed mass so much was at Cabrini and for similar reasons--the sense of community.

Now, normally on the Urban Plunge, Verb hosts a dinner service at one of DM's social services, the Guadalupe Homeless Project. The deal there is that the people choose the menu, bring the food, prepare everything and then eat and interact with the people they serve. Unfortunately, the place double booked us and we had to find something else!

This happened two months ago, though, and that was fine. We booked another mission (there are a large amount in LA, unfortunately, because there is such a need) and we were set. Well about a week before the trip I contacted the volunteer coordinator there asking for some more specifics and they told me they had us booked for lunch!

Well this is a problem, I thought.

I've spent the last week frantically trying to replace it somewhere but with such short notice it was nearly impossible. This had made me significantly less excited. I felt like, one, that I had failed, and two, that the trip would now be less than it would have been. I worried that maybe it'd get cut short or somehow not be a good time. And so my previous excitement was replaced with dread and on top of all my other stressers it was pretty much exactly what I didn't need. This was supposed to be the thing that would turn the experience around...my first real chance to get to know some of the guys...and now it was going to be ruined.

Fortunately, though, it all worked out. Friday right after school the boys came into the Campus Min office and we hung out for a little before packing up the vans and driving to DM. Once there the guys played football with a couple of the kids who were hanging out in the school "playground" (which is pretty much just a parking lot with a couple basketball nets and some court lines on the blacktop...pretty typical for a Catholic school in the city.) I played some two-on-two basketball a littel bit with three of the guys and was able to adequately make a fool of myself.

We never found any service site to replace Friday's work, but we did hear about this local church carnival, and so we (myself and Krista, the other chaperone) took the boys and we got some food on Verb's dollar. I had papusas, a Salvadorian dish my casamates constantly rave about. They were pretty good. I think they're filled with beans but I actually enjoyed it, which is abnormal. So that's good. Then I played this Spanish version of Bingo called Lotteria, which is essentially the exact same game but played with pictures instead of numbers.  I did not win. Obviously the little boy and the old lady who did were dirty cheaters.


Lotteria

The carnival was actually a pretty lame affair other than that. Pretty dead and not much to do. But, it was on Sunset Blvd and we had about a half hour left on our parking meter. I was not aware of this but we were parallel to Hollywood Blvd. Well, most of the boys had never seen it and wanted to check it out. And so, suddenly we were walking down Hollywood and through the walk of fame!

Batman and Mr. Freeze

It was quite a fun experience and we visited the lobbies of Hollywood's Museum of Guinness World Records and Ripley's Believe it Or Not "museum" and the Hollywood Wax Museum.

It was the first moment I've really felt like I'm in LA--I know the reason I'm here isn't to do the touristy stuff but I am here and only for a year so I've wanted to see some sights...so it was really good to get out of my neighborhood and somewhere other than the freeway and the distance between casa DK and Verb.

The rest of the night was spent playing Monopoly, eating pizza, and being entertained by the boys insulting each other and beating each other up because that's what high school guys do. Naturally they also had to draw penises on each other when they fell asleep.

In the morning we were off to St. Francis Center, where my casamate Rachel works as volunteer coordinator. It's a social service center that provides meals and a pantry to the homeless population in the area. I've visited there a couple times now and seeing the line of people waiting outside hasn't gotten easier. A couple of the boys helped out with finishing up serving breakfast while the rest prepped for the pantry program.

The pantry program is a mini grocery store setup where the people come through and can pick out different kinds of food from rice and beans to fruit and veggies and bread. It's a very nice system. Lots of people get fed...some are families, and a few of them I recognized from the last time I was there.

After we left St. Francis Center we had time to kill  before our lunch at Homegirl so we stopped at a nearby park and played soccer. I have no athletic skill, but no one really held it against me. I happened to be on a better team, though, so I get to pretend I won. That was a lot of fun.

Then we ate lunch at Homegirl Cafe, part of Homeboy Industries. Homeboy provides rehabilitation services and acts as a second chance for former gang members and incarcerated men and women. Many of these people have spent most of their lives incarcerated, missing out on raising children, being parts of families, leading a normal life. And Homeboy allows them a place to get work experience, offers free tattoo removal and classes and generally is a huge aid in establishing its homies as members of societies. My casamate, Kathryn, works at  Homeboy as an assitant case manager and it sounds like simply a phenomenal place. It was founded by Fr. Greg Boyle, who wrote the book Tattoos on the Heart, and he is the heart and soul of the organization, and in general an awesome dude to chat with over a couple sausages and a beer.

The food was delicious, which is no surprise, because every once in a while we get free bread from Kathryn. We had a good time hanging out and then were off to Skid Row to volunteer at Midnight Mission.

Skid Row is a bummer. It's part of downtown LA, and hosts the highest concentration of homelessness in the country. The streets are lined with cardboard shanties, tents, sleeping bags, and people. Lots of people with nowhere else to go. A few of my housemates work in this area and so I hear a lot about Skid Row and homelessness in general over dinner. And while you can't go anywhere in LA without seeing people living on the streets, Skid Row was a whole new level of understanding of just what this country has failed to do for its people. A person here or there on the streets, people coming in for a meal, that you can handle. That you can process.

But Skid Row is beyond comprehension--how does this exist in the United States? In the world? It is enraging and disheartening. And at the same time it was reinvigorating in a strange way--it recommitted me to working for justice somehow, in any way I can. Simply telling you how terrible and unreal Skid Row is is one way to do that, I guess, but it doesn't do its justice.

The pit that opened in the bottom of my stomach is beyond words. No photograph can capture the experience, no words can convey just what it's like--this place should not exist.

I've worked at a few kitchens and homeless social service organizations but it was never like the experience I had at The Midnight Mission. The sheer numbers, for one, were overwhelming. Two, there were so many young people--my age, not much older, early 30s. Many of them didn't look like your typical image of homelessness. Heart-rending.

When I got there I was assigned probably the lamest job I could think of--bussing. My exact thoughts were, "This sucks," because I was in the back by myself, not serving anything or helping the process of getting meals...probably the worst possible thing to do when you're volunteering, right?

Strangely, it was one of the most rewarding experiences I've ever had in a direct service capacity. I was admiring the work this mission does, the services it provides, the social atmosphere and familiarity amongst its patrons and even some of the volunteers. It's sad that these people are so established among their situation that they have formed these relationships, but it is also strangely encouraging. The warmth and presence of other people can keep you going, I suppose. I had a great chance to observe and simply "be," which is often times the best way to take in an experience.

I was also the last person most people saw before they left and went back to their lives. And so I got a lot of thanks for the work everyone was doing. That was powerful in its own way, because it's a tangible sign of making an impact, even if it's only small, even if it's only for the next few hours. I had a few people ask me for the leftovers (of which there was a surprising amount) before I tossed them.  And that was sad as well. How often does this man eat, I wondered.

But there was one moment, one man, in particular, that made the evening particularly special. It was after the crowd had disappeared, mostly, the line diminished, the work was slowed down, the dinner was through, he stopped and talked to me and the other guy bussing. He told us what great work we were doing, that the angels in heaven would recognize it, that it was brave and worthy and good karma. My initial reaction was to assume this man had a little something loose, because it wasn't that big a deal. He shouldn't be thanking me for anything. But he continued on, saying that we had to really humble ourselves and let go of our pride to help our fellow man in this way, and that it was admirable.

This stuck with me; it continues to stick with me. I think the impulse is to think the other way, that the people being served really have to humble themselves to accept this kind of service, and the temptation may be to think they resent our help. But this man, and so many other folks that evening were genuinely grateful.I don't know who the man was, will probably never see him again, and yet I can really say it was one of the few moments in my life that I would call a "God moment."

 I left Midnight Mission feeling reinvigorated, sure again of some kind of purpose. The weekend made me appreciate an aspect of this job I hadn't considered, and that was the fact that once a month I chaperone Saturday service trips, which means that once a month I volunteer to help others at different organizations. How cool is that?

That night we had reflection, and I was very impressed by what the students shared; they expressed a new point of view on all of this I had never experienced. A younger perspective, and in some ways, more naive, but the seed was there for an understanding of these profound issues, and certainly there was a clear commitment to continue that exploration.

They all also come from a minority perspective. All of the students were latino, (except one, who was black) and so they caught things that I, as a white person, would never have noticed, that I've never thought about, simply because my frame of reference is different. My social class is probably different, my entire view on the world is not the same as theirs. For example, they really noticed that almost all the people they saw  throughout the day were either latino or black. As low income minorities themselves, they were very attune to that fact while for me...well, that's just the way it was and it didn't even register to me. It really increased my awareness of the the economic inequality based on race, in that I never really understood how profound a burden that weighs on every young man at Verb. It's not just that they're low income, it's that they're low income minorities, and that is a whole new dimension of difficulty.

I was really impressed by what the boys shared during our reflection, and how much they got the point of it all. I think I underestimated them a little bit in their ability to grasp the implications of what they were doing and seeing. But they were very sensitive to the reality of what they were seeing, and though they may not be aware of the more complex issues surrounding it, they are dedicated to continuing the work. For some of them, perhaps it hit close to home in a way it never has and probably never will for me.

After reflection, we shifted gears, grabbed some frozen yogurt (which is a big thing in California) and played lots of fun retreat games, including mafia and ninja. It was great being in a familiar retreat/service trip setting, and it really helped me to feel comfortable again and to relax and open up.

All in all, I had a blast spending the weekend with the students, and had one of the most meaningful volunteer experiences in my life. With all said and done, it brought me new life, renewed purpose, and some confidence to carry me forward for the rest of the year.

I tried to bring a little Cabrini with me to the experience, including this prayer  we shared during our Search meetings and on Project Appalachia last year which has always resonated profoundly with me and I thought fit the weekend's mission.

Look around you people of God

Look around you

Who is the person sitting next to you?

The person next to you is the greatest miracle and the greatest mystery you will ever meet, at this moment a testament of the Word made flesh, of God’s continuing Advent into the world, into our midst.

The person next to you is a unique universe of experience, alive with necessity and possibility, dread and desire, comedy and tragedy, fear and hope.

The person next to you longs to become something in particular, to arrive at some destination, to tell or sing a story, to be known and to know.

The person next to you believes in something, stands for something, counts for something, labors for something, runs for something, waits for something.

The person next to you is a whole colony of persons met during his lifetime, a community in which still loves a mother and father, a friend, an enemy.

The person next to you can do some things well, some better than most; there is something her one life on earth means and cares for; does she speak of this to you?

The person next to you can live with you, not just alongside; he can live for you as well as for himself; he can confront, encounter and esteem you—if you want him to; in turn, his point of view can be appreciated by others.

The person next to you cannot be fully understood; she is more than any description or explanation; she can never be fully controlled.

The person next to you is a mystery—as the word made flesh is a mystery.

And the word was made flesh and dwelt among us.

So people of God

Look around you

For God is here.

What do I have to offer?

I continue to struggle. At my job, as a community member, as a boyfriend, as a son, a brother, a friend. Coming here--picking myself up and suddenly planting myself across the country with no one  and nothing familiar for thousands of miles--I never realized it would be hard. Somehow, I believed in myself. My strengths, my skills, my abilities, myself as a whole. Life, for the first time in many years, was very, very good before I left for California. I had never been so fulfilled, felt so loved, felt so confident in myself. I had purpose, I was great at school, I had a job I loved, some friends, a  brand new relationship, and I felt more confident and more full of life than I've ever been. Ever.

I'm told I was outgoing as a child, lively, gregarious, more than my older brother or sister. And then it disappeared. I got sick and anything that made me anything was gone. I couldn't live a life at all--I've floated through "friendships" most of my life. Different groups who I never felt connected to. Not really. I mean, I tried. I've put my whole self into so many different groups of people but I've almost never felt like I succeeded in making those connections I wanted. After a while when it continues not to stick you begin to feel unwanted. I have a handful of people who I can say I feel very close to--that I have made that sort of connection with. I think a lot about who from Cabrini I would still see if I were in the area--who I'll still see when I move back home next year. I don't know who would be on that list. Even last year at the height of my upward journey these last few years I was plagued by these thoughts--that inability to connect. It's creeping back up again now--I'll connect this in a few minutes. Anyway. The point I was originally trying to make is that last year I thought I had recaptured that spirit of who I "used to be." That I had overcome these challenges, that I wasn't so shy, that I had a lot to offer people, talents, gifts, whatever you want to call them.

And then I came here.

I don't know what I have to offer. I am quite honestly incapable of seeing what I had last year. It's all left me so quickly. I'm trying to recapture it, scramble to put the pieces back together. I feel like I've just failed in every aspect of this experience so far. I don't know how to talk to people. I don't know how to connect with anyone. I don't know how to bring myself to my job or into my community.

And it terrifies me. What if I never reach that point? I know who I am, and right now I am not that person. I am not happy, I am not funny, I am not lively or optimistic or driven. I don't know what I bring to my community; I feel like a burden more than anything else. I don't know how to talk to anyone in the house, at my work--staff or student. Maybe I just need more time than everyone else. But it's heartbreaking and exhausting to have hit this wall so suddenly. To be the only one who is apparently struggling so much. I was on top of the world and suddenly I've fallen so far--I feel the way I did when I started college. I can't deal with this self-doubt and fear. I don't know what it stems from--maybe it's what I talked about earlier. The fact that I've never felt like I had a place, a group that really accepted me--not for many years, at least. I've struggled so long for that and I don't know that I ever really found it at Cabrini. And it's been such a continual theme in my life that I guess I've learned to think it has to be something about me.

See, I'm falling into old habits. This negative thinking. It's a trap that is just self-fulfilling and self-sustaining. I know the things I'm saying aren't even true--I've got a group of friends at home. A best friend. I've got a fantastic girlfriend, a caring family. And yet.....did I ever have that "group" of friends at school that ever involved me in plans? Did anyone ever take me into consideration? Do I have that little to offer?

Or was I simply failing in communicating my need for that?

I think it must be the latter because I continue to struggle with it. I can't break myself out of my own head at work, at the house. I see opportunities and shy away from them. Why do I do that? What is wrong with me? Do I fear getting hurt? Do I fear that I have nothing to give them? Nothing anyone has to benefit from what I have to say?

Maybe.

I don't know. I don't know why I'm so unhappy. I don't know why I have suddenly reverted back to this person I was who is incapable of simple human interaction. It's negatively effecting a lot of things. I know it is. I could be doing so much more at work. I could be forming friendships in my house that I see everyone else developing. I could be doing more to communicate with people at home: my parents, Sara, Matt, Kevin, Bridget, even Jack. People at Cabrini.

I am outside of all of this. Like I have so often felt in my life. I hate it.

I don't know how to overcome it. I know it's just a matter of "doing" but why is that so hard? What keeps me at that distance? What do I fear in connecting with others? I knew that would be a difficulty this year, but I didn't think it would be a debilitating one. I knew it was something I wanted to work through by living in community but I never expected it to leave me struggling at work, with my already existing relationships.

I have trouble waking up in the morning because I dread the amount of effort I have to exert every day to simply be among people. This is not healthy. There's probably something seriously wrong with it, actually. I need to change something. I just wish I knew how to do it, or that I weren't so afraid.

I don't know why I'm letting everyone see this. Maybe I just need to. Maybe it's just time everyone knew what my whole life has been. So often these debates rattle in my head.

I still think things will get better. I just don't want to waste any time. As long as a year sounds I'm realizing that it isn't all that long at all and I want to have made something from this experience, but at this rate there's a danger of  never reaching that point.

I've thought on several occassions what the point of being here at all is, but I think I would never be able to live with myself if I went home. Too many what-ifs...hopefully in the end it won't have been a wasted effort. I won't have wasted my time or this school's time or the time of my community mates and loved ones at home.

Something's got to change...and I need to change it. Somehow.

Hey, Tim, what the heck is you doing?

Why thank you for asking, hypothetical conversation partner with poor grammar.

Most of you I haven't been keeping up with! I'm sorry--I have a history of being bad at staying in touch. But particularly this last month has been difficult, things have been nonstop crazy...Getting used to living with 7 other people, grocery shopping on a budget, cleaning up our house, figuring out how to use our money and stipend and pay the bills and cleaning up cat poop and how to get the internet working and community nights and spirituality nights and cooking for 8 and trying to relax and dealing with getting used to work and just about anything you can think of that could have gone wrong or been complicated (and probably more).

ANYWAY: Let's start somewhere near the beginning.  I had dinner with everyone I love most Friday night. Dinner as a family has grown quite a bit in the last five years, and I have to say it's nice having so much new energy in the house all at once. I spent my last night at home with my parents, my siblings, their significant others and Sara. I couldn't ask for a better way to spend it. Thank you to everyone for making the time to spend that last night with me; it meant so much. Later that night I said goodbye to Sara my beautiful girlfriend by dropping her off to meet her mom in Pennsylvania. That was tough. But I know she'll be OK and so will I.  I spent some time that night with Kevin and Tina because they happened to be spending the night before going to the shore on Saturday. We talked about some of my fears, what I was looking forward to, and simply spent time together. That was quite nice, and I took a final picture with my big brother. Awww. :) I don't think it had quite sunk in yet even that night that this was really it. It felt a little weird but I don't think I was ever really able to process that I was about to be across the country and how difficult that would be.

My plane trip was stressful. I thought I was going to miss my flight from Philly because the line was longer than I have ever seen it before in all of my flights from that airport. I had to say goodbye to my dad at the curb because we could not find parking fast enough. I was freaking out and terrified and quite a mess in general. I said goodbye to my mom and to Jack in a rush and went through security holding back tears. I was held back by security (already running late for my plane) because I forgot to take my huge bag of medicine out for the x-ray.

I got on board just at the final boarding call and couldn't catch my breath until we had been in the air for ten minutes. I tried to let my fears go but nothing would settle me down. I tried to remind myself that I had been working toward this moment for more than a year, that I was strong enough and had enough support from everyone at home to make it through.

 It didn't really work.

 Eventually I just fell asleep. In Denver I had plenty of time to sit down and try to collect myself. Then my flight was delayed for more than an hour. But wait! I only had an hour lead-time to meet JVC at the airport! I called frantically and was assured I would make the bus group. Nothing was going right. It was hard to convince myself that all of these things were not signs telling me I should turn back and quit before I even started.

So I flew to Denver after talking to my parents and Sara and trying to make peace with leaving everyone in such a messy way. I still haven't quite gotten over how my goodbyes to my family went.

I flew into San Jose because our week-long orientation was up in northern California. After I got my luggage I went to where I was told to meet up with the JVC group-- "the big group next to the escalator." When I first got there I wound up standing around with a different volunteer group and I was pretty sure I was in the wrong spot because these people seemed to know one another. Awkwaaaard. Eventually I figured it out and walked around the steps to find the right group.

OK, I thought, I made it. Everything's going to be better from here.

That wasn't exactly accurate. I couldn't recover the entire day. Sure, I met my housemates, and that was exciting. Sure, I was in this big group retreat-like setting that I always thrived in at Cabrini but I couldn't get over how far away I was. How terrible my morning was. How much I missed my family and Sara and just anyone that I knew even a little bit. I was on the verge of tears for probably the first two days. I sat alone on the bus ride to camp trying to collect myself. Falling asleep, thinking about everyone I love and how very far away and remote and small I felt in that moment. Everyone was talking and chatting and getting to know one another but I had no taste for it at that moment. I just wanted to hide away.

It was really hard to get over that feeling at first. I remembered during orientation just how shy I am naturally. I've grown a lot in the last four years and even though I still considered myself pretty shy I had people last year tell me they couldn't believe that because they only met me in the last year. I had people telling me how much I had grown. So I went into JVC thinking that even though it would still be a bit of work I could totally handle that; after all, this kind of thing I'm going into was what I did all throughout college!

But here's the thing--there was no one around that I felt safe with. At Cabrini, after my first year, there were always one or two people that I felt comfortable enough around to kind of let my guard down with, which made it easier to flourish. It's been a month and I still haven't been able to completely let my guard down and let myself out. I don't feel like myself. It's a much bigger challenge than I had counted on. But I'll get to all of that later...

So while Camp St. Francis (where our orientation took place) was a safe place to meet everyone and relax before being thrown into the year I never got to the comfortable place where I felt safe to really socialize. Everyone in the Santa Clara Program Office is fantastic and my housemates are great, but it is one of my personal challenges this year to force myself not to retreat into myself like I used to always do in high school and early on in college. I don't want to be that person again--but I have really felt like it in the last month. I feel like that at work, too, and I should have known that it would be more challenging than I expected it to be. I mean, part of why I am doing JVC is to learn how to better relate to people and overcome these fears, but I didn't realize how much baggage I was still carrying with me every day.

But anyway--the camp! Boy was it a beautiful place, that definitely helped me acclimate a little bit. The views were simply incredible.

I have realized lately I find a lot of solace in the outside world. I love being in nature, being surrounded by the vastness of everything. Standing at the ocean and simply being in awe of how small I am. It brings me immense peace knowing there is something so much larger than me out there. I feel God's presence a great deal in those moments.

Being on the beach was a surreal experience, I've never been on the Pacific before. And the sky! Man, at night on the beach the stars were simply beautiful. I love just staring into the sky for the same reason I love being at the edge of the ocean. I have learned to find God a lot more recently in the world around me.

I spent a lot of time in prayer during orientation. Partially because we began every morning in prayer, partially because I simply needed it to keep myself from feeling so alone. But being surrounded by such beauty gave me a great chance to simply be--something that I think I needed at the beginning of this year. Everything for me was a chance to find God and connect with that on a deeper level than I have thought about in a long time. I reflected a lot about my place, about my relationship with my faith and spirituality and how I relate to it. I found myself often simply standing at the cliff overlooking the beach, staring into the sky and centering myself in the idea that I am still connected to everyone I love so far away. We share the same sky; the same ocean; the same world. I share that with everyone. It's something I've never really thought about before but after that week I find peace in more and more.

The thing about orientation was, though, it never really felt like anything was different. It was such a familiar atmosphere. It felt like just another retreat; but it was necessary. It was nice to have that familiarity with the formula, it was something I knew and felt comfortable with. I slowly began to find a foothold among these new people, but it really was a process. It's a process I am not finished with. But I'll get there.

The first night we had mass on the beach, which was simply an awesome experience.  I mean that in the literal definition of awesome--something that inspires awe. It was one of those first moments where I really felt like this was something completely different from anything in my life. I don't remember what our priest said in his homily but it really helped me settle down after the rough travel day. There's something special about being in nature and communing with a group of strangers for a single purpose, all while the sun sets. That mass we also had a short prayer service where we tied ribbon around a cross as prayer intentions that will remain with us throughout our year and will follow us through our future retreats until the end of the year. I'm not usually much of one for symbolism but there was something cathartic about forming my prayers into something tangible. I've been shouldering a lot since the first day and dealing with insecurities I thought had  gone away years ago that I was completely blindsided by. I never once before the day I left thought about what would be hard for me or even that it would be hard. I thought I had overcome everything that could be an issue. And so that mass let me start the healing process a little bit. The process still continues. I don't think it will ever be complete, but that's OK. I came into this year expecting to challenge myself. It is simply a larger challenge than I thought.

Tying our prayer intentions to the cross

Mass on the beach

Looking back I don't regret dealing with my shyness, or needing time to adjust, because it also allowed me to focus on myself a great deal, which I sorely needed. It let me begin to explore my spirituality in a deep way, which is another big reason why I wanted JVC over other programs. The presentations and speakers gave us a lot of useful tips and a lot of warnings that we might not have even realized we needed at the time. Orientation was less about bonding with the rest of the JVs (though that was part of it) and more about giving each of us something we all needed: time to focus on ourselves and our reasons for doing this program. If anything the hardships have strengthened my resolve; the time I received for reflection has made me more determined to overcome my challenges. And though everything for me is still in the beginning stage I'm not afraid I won't get there. I have to own my insecurities and fears in order to work on them. I had to meet them head-on all at once, but it doesn't mean I have to fix it all over night. I simply have to let myself feel my emotions...something I've never been good at.

There are still a lot of personal struggles. I'm going to talk about that a lot more in the next post about what the time in LA itself has been like, but for now I'll leave it with the fact that I am, ultimately, grateful for this opportunity despite the difficulties. Maybe even partially because of them; I think I am already discovering new things about myself and important lessons which I arrogantly thought I had already learned. 

But for now...more pictures!

Casa Dorothy Kazel at the Commissioning Mass

The California sun takes some getting used to...Even up north where it's chilly

The Santa Clara Office JVs! Basically all of us in California.