Happy Advent!
For Catholics, the Liturgical year has begun anew with the beginning of the Advent season, the four-week period of preparation and patience before the Christmas celebration. Although Best Buy, Target, and pretty much every other retailer in this country have already been promoting the holiday spirit for several months, Advent asks us to be calm and a bit counter-cultural as we resist the inundation of commercialism. Instead, we’re supposed to spend these weeks praying, doing penance, and in service to one another. We are to make a space in her lives and in our hearts, amidst all of the busyness surrounding this season, for peaceful and quiet reflection. It’s a check-in, a time out. A gentle crescendo. A steady and deliberate procession toward the coming of Christ. It’s hard, but I think Advent is a beautiful opportunity to take inventory.
With that, I find myself taking a look at how I’ve done so far in this program. The four pillars of the Jesuit Volunteer Corps are spirituality, social justice, community, and simplicity. Together, they provide a pretty holistic blueprint for the life I feel God calls me to live, and there is much to explore when thinking about each of those values. They are inextricably connected so that simplicity has everything to do with social justice, spirituality, and community, but the individual words are helpful in terms of my own focus and reflection. There’s a lot packed in to each of these—so much so that you’d be reading for quite awhile if I shared all of my thoughts on all of them!—but I think that I will share a few lessons/conclusions/food for thought/goals/ideas related to the central tenets of JVCNW and my attempts to live them out.
First, with regard to simplicity, I think that our $80 personal stipend can easily be mistaken for the sole rubric by which to measure one’s progress. While living on the $80 is in fact one of the goals of JVC, it is just one tangible and consistent (across all JVC regions and communities) method for encouraging simple living. Living on a stipend and patting one’s self on the back after spending less than the allotted $80 each month doesn’t mean that this one gets checked off the list, though. Simplicity, as I’m realizing, has everything to do with where and how I spend my money. The stipend has helped me get more creative, it has helped me savor delightful treats when I do choose to spend my money on them, and it has been responsible for many memorable moments that have followed from a decision to do something or go somewhere just because it’s free.
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| Guess who I got to see!!! That's the Alhambra, PS. |
Yet, simple living is also about where I put my energy, how I spend my time, the way I use my words, my perception of silence, my use of technology, and my interpersonal relationships. I am making attempts to single-task (less simultaneous walking/texting/eating). I am resisting the urge to fill every moment of silence (while reading, scrapbooking, or writing) with music; instead, I reserve my iPod use for my runs, and I try to spend more time in a calm silence that I’m beginning to accept and enjoy. I leave my cell phone in my room when I’m at home so that I’m able to be more present to my community. I’m trying to listen more, use fewer (but more thought-out) words, and enjoy—more than anything—the simple company of a friend or two. My calendar is still full (always will be), but I am careful about my commitments and I think about what might be the best use of my time and energy, focusing on quality rather than quantity. Like I said: I’m trying.
These are just a few of the small, less obvious ways that simplicity is infiltrating my everyday life, and they extend far beyond the materialistic focus that the $80 stipend attempts to erode. Still, I will say, living on the $80 is still part of the deal. I’m tempted to say, “Oh, I get this,” and then pay less attention to whether or not I still live on the stipend; but the point is to do it for the whole year, even after I think I understand the more deeper and underlying principles. It’s a balance of grasping the ideology and also committing to—and following through on—this one, tangible, trackable challenge.
Social justice is something that’s never far from a JV’s mind, especially because we spend our days at nonprofits and social service organizations. We work in clinics, domestic violence shelters, homeless shelters, meal programs, food pantries, environmental justice organizations, refugee resettlement programs, law offices, and myriad other agencies and offices. But the primary goal of our work, diverse as it may be, is to serve the under-served, to look at the world from their perspective, and to work to create institutions and systems that reflect the truth that there is no “us” and “them.” Many of the problems we work against or work to solve are deeply entrenched in our social structures. They are connected to one another in ways that are sometimes obvious and sometimes far more subtle. Everyone who comes into El Programa Hispano has a number of issues. In one appointment, a client might ask me for a food voucher to a meal program, a recommendation for an immigration lawyer, assistance with their energy bill, counseling for their child, and help with a phone call that they can’t make in English.
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| In the Alhambra. So beautiful! |
Realizing that these problems are all interconnected can be overwhelming. Where do we start? When I think about all the work that has to be done at EPH, I am reminded how under-qualified I might be for this position. I can’t help thinking that someone else could do certain parts of my job far better than I can. And when I do help someone, it’s tempting to get discouraged even in that moment of joy simply because I know that there’s so much more they need, so much policy and systemic change that needs to be overhauled, and so many more individuals and families who have not yet received help. This is humbling because I am reminded again and again that I am but one person, that I am a broken vessel through which God is working toward some purpose that, to me, seems to never come to complete fruition.
I am understanding, though I sometimes have to re-understand it, that “it is better to light a candle than to curse the darkness,” even if I can only light one, small, weak candle. Helping one family stay warm this winter, regardless of the fact that there are thousands of other families who are about to get their heat turned off, is in and of itself an accomplishment that merits joy and gratitude. I am also trying to remind myself that, although perhaps someone else (a native Spanish speaker?) could perform certain daily tasks better, I am the one who is here. As Teresa of Avila said, “God has no hands or feet on earth but ours.” I’m the one who’s here. The client in front of me is the person I can help in this moment. This small reaching-out is an act that could, for all I know, tip the scales. I can never know the good that I do, and some things that seem small to me (writing a letter for someone) are much bigger for others. I can never see the complete results (this is where faith enters). I must remember to be joyful, grateful, and appreciative of the beauty I see everyday despite the fact that I always remember its ever-present twin of oppression, injustice, and pain.
And, like everything in JVC, this angle—the world through the lens of my low-income immigrant clients—promises to “ruin me for life.” A social-justice oriented life always asks questions, always digs deeper, always searches for connections. It means thinking about my food (where does it come from, and how much energy is used to produce it?), thinking about my language (does it say what I really want to say or do I rely on culturally or racially inappropriate expressions?), and reconsidering my “norm” (why drive and deal with parking when public transportation is a perfectly effective and more affordable alternative?). In an effort to experience solidarity—something I don’t think I can ever fully do—I try to think about my clients, and this adds a richness but a weightiness to my decisions.
When I come home for Christmas, as excited as I am to see all of you and as blessed as I am to have the chance to spend the holiday with my family, I am well-aware of the fact that most of my clients can’t fly home to their families, some of whom are in Mexico
As for community and spirituality— I’ll be brief because I feel like I’ve already gone on too long— I learn and grow daily. My housemates are a wonderful group of people, and I can’t tell you how thankful I am to have landed in a house full of spirited, compassionate, thoughtful people. They’re not exactly hard to love. Still, we disagree. We come from different places, we have different ideas about things, and we communicate differently. It has been a challenging but rewarding journey so far, and if anyone thinks “love” is a fluffy, sparkly noun, I beg to differ. Love gets its hands dirty. Love gets naked (not literally… necessarily). Love assumes the best even when it would be easier to place blame. Love remains patient even when writing someone off would require far less effort. Love sees potential where there isn’t obvious promise. And “like” isn’t always a prerequisite for “love.” In fact, there’s something about meeting someone and deciding, “I will love this person.” You don’t have to like them. You don’t have to want to spend time with them. But loving them does just as much for you as it does for them.
This, and everything for me, is closely linked to my spirituality which, more and more, finds its roots in Matthew 25 in which Jesus reminds us that whatever we do for the naked, the hungry, the ill, the imprisoned, the thirsty, and lonely, and the stranger… we do for him. Even the smallest gesture. Jesus hung out with a pretty rag-tag bunch of individuals. Jesus touched people, ate with people, spoke to people that no one else at that time would have ever gotten close to. Jesus preached love of neighbor AND love of enemy. Jesus assumed goodwill of the sinner, the tax collector, the prostitute, and the worst criminals of his era. What does it mean to live out this sort of radical love? It certainly means stepping outside of my comfort zone and stretching the limits of my patience and my faith in others. It requires vulnerability, as real love always does. “Love,” says one of my favorite quotes, “means being out on a limb together.”
In my house, and in my relationship with God these days, I feel like I’m slowly learning to bare it all when it comes to the person I am, the person I hope to be, and the present moment in which I find myself (and all of its joys and difficulties). In doing this, I expect and know that I will be warmly received by God (always) and by my seven housemates (most of the time… no one’s perfect!). This mutual trust allows each person to be him or herself. We work out the kinks in each of our personalities, but we do it in a communal context. We love one another despite the fact that we piss each other off. Again and again, I am amazed by my housemates. I know that I have spoken words that have been hurtful. I know that I have done things that were less than considerate. And still, most of the time at least, I feel pretty safe and pretty loved. No earthly love can be as unconditional or as constant as the love of God, but striving to live that love is one way, perhaps the most important way, to follow the example of Christ. For me anyway, that’s the whole point of this year. I am still learning and still improving, but these last four months have certainly provided much opportunity for growth. And still so much, to quote the poet Denise Levertov, “is in the bud.” I am only a third of the way through my JVC year, and I anticipate many more important experiences and insights.
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| Alcazar Real, Sevilla, Spain. |
Now, for a swift subject change. As some of you may be aware, I recently spent a week in Spain , visiting my dear sister in the southern city of Granada Europe in the midst of my simple living JVC year, and to be honest it felt pretty strange to be eating out, ordering bottles of wine, and buying souvenirs. Still, there is a balance that must be struck, and I would have regretted not going to a far more serious degree than the guilt/confusion I wrestled with when considering what to do about this opportunity.
I am glad I went. I am happy I got to see part of Britt’s study-abroad world because it was so very valuable to come home to Mom and Brittany, who both knew the sound of my host mom’s voice, the taste of an empanada, and the sound of Jose Miguel’s guitar at the local pub after my semester in Chile. Plus, southern Spain Alhambra Granada
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| Mama and her babies. And Plaza Espana. |
This year, I don’t exist in a bubble. The homesickness would be a struggle, but in a lot of ways it would be easier to stay here, to not come home this year. I wouldn’t have to figure out how to integrate into my life at home the things I’m thinking about or the changes in myself that I am making here. Too bad life doesn’t work like that! The wonderful family and friends I had before JVC will be with me throughout and after this experience. I will have opportunities. I will have decisions to make. And I think it’s important to live a synchronized life… because it IS all connected. There are not distinct realities going on here, so although the Spain
Thanks, as always, for accompanying me on this journey. Thanks for your prayers, your packages and letters, and your support and patience. Thanks, Mom, for the wonderful vacation. Thanks, Jill, for the belated birthday surprise. Dad, thank you for the football updates. Brittany
XOXO,
Amanda
PS I have decided that I love Oregon/Portland.
PPS We bought a Christmas tree and carried it home a half mile. It's gorgeous.
You really should publish your writings after this experience. You sure do have a gift (which we've always known. :)
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