wrestling with the truth

I think I’m finding the truth, knowing the truth, and it scares the hell out of me. But I can’t stop searching for it. I’ve been on a journey toward it my whole life. I’ve been seeking it in my personal relationships, in my education and vocation, in my travels, in my faith.

I’ve stumbled upon moments of clarity and understanding. I’ve met people who have taught me something new about myself and humanity. I’ve studied, researched, read, worked, planned, and performed tasks that have both lightened and weighed on my heart and mind.  I’ve experienced new places and cultures that have contributed to the base of my understanding of life. And I have been nurtured in belief and pestered with curiosity about the purpose of life.

All things point to this way. The Way. The Way of Jesus Christ.

I still don’t know if I believe that he was the Son of God or if he is divine. I don’t know that I believe that “no one gets to the Father except through him.”  I’m pretty sure that other wisdom teachers were holy and in touch with the divine and that their paths toward peace have validity as well.

But I do know that my life has led to the understanding that no matter who Jesus was, he led a life of peace and love, and that his teachings are truthful.  I’ve been reading that truth underscored constantly in Tolstoy’s work:

We methodically create conditions where bread and labor are stolen from work-worn masses. We live lavishly, as if there were no connection whatever between the dying washerwoman, the child-prostitute, women worn out by making cigarettes, or whatever, and all by the exhausting labor in the world that feeds our fat stomachs. We do not want to see the fact that if we stopped living such overindulgent, comfortable lives, there would not be so many people whose labor exhausts their strength to live.

The problem is the entire way of American/Western life has become “overindulgent, comfortable.”   My way of life is overindulgent and comfortable. Even though I like to pride myself on living simply and living green, on being a professional volunteer, on using my purchase power to shop at local, organic, fair trade, or thrift stores; I like to think that my lifestyle is comparatively holier than my neighbor’s.  But I am so far from living the gospel.  My ease and convenience and comfort are higher priorities than addressing the injustice of the “dying washerwoman, the child-prostitute, the women worn out by making cigarettes.”  I own Nike shoes. I consider it a normal necessity to have a laptop computer and to pay outrageous prices for wireless internet, to have a cell phone, to listen to my iPod, to purchase books, to go to the GAP and buy new $60 jeans because I “need” them, and to routinely spend my money dining out and traveling.

And how can I defy this? Why can’t I live according to truth when I know it? Why do I insist on ignoring what I know to be right? Why do I live a life of hypocrisy? Because the truth is impossibly hard.

Two years ago I became a vegetarian. I watched the film Food, Inc. and immediately stopped eating meat. The injustices revealed in the film provoked me enough to realize that I couldn’t go on living the way I lived and do it in good conscience.  When I explained the source of my decision to my co-workers, one woman said she could never watch the documentary. She didn’t want to know the truth about the food she ate because she knew she’d be compelled to change her ways.

She didn’t want to know the truth because the truth is impossibly hard.  If we acknowledge the truth, we might have to sacrifice our overindulgent, comfortable lives: the luxuries we have understood as essentials, the practices we consider customary, the systems we laud as necessary.  All the while these luxuries, practices, and systems are oppressing our brothers and sisters both here in the United States and all across the world.  People are oppressed simply because of our overindulgence and comfort.

How much worse am I that I know this truth and ignore it? That I’m not doing something far more radical to address the injustice I see?

The philosopher and author Peter Singer would suggest that if we were to see a child drowning in a pond, we would jump in to save it, even if we were wearing brand new $150 Nike running shoes. We want to do good. But we have a disconnect today between what we do and the consequences of what we do--the genius of modern capitalism and marketing. That $150 pair of Nike running shoes? Probably considered the best in market, essential if you’d like to commit to being a decent runner. The materials for them? Probably extracted from a developing nation with back-breaking labor that is barely compensated. The profits of those extracted resources? Probably lining the pockets of corrupt politicians and business owners. The assembly of those shoes? Probably stitched and glued by young women in Vietnam in conditions that American workers would strike against.  The compensation of those girls?  Probably far below a living wage.  The marketing to sell it to the customer? Manipulative and costly.  The store price of the shoe? FAR higher than the cost to produce it.

In all likelihood, that child is drowning in the pond because we purchased the pair of Nike shoes in the first place.  “...in our current political and social system the responsibility for the crimes committed is so hidden away that people will commit the most atrocious acts without seeing their responsibility for them.  [...]  We have conveniently created a world in which we are bound together by the act of throwing the responsibility of our actions on to one another. No one is to blame, and death prevails.” -Tolstoy (The Kingdom of God Is within You)

“Why don’t we just do what Jesus told us to do? Why do so many of us admire Christ’s teaching, but fail to carry it out?”

I think what I’m truly trying to explore is how to seek justice, peace, love, and hope in a world MIRED with consumerism. Consumerism is the silent killer.  I see it more and more.  I don’t know how to escape it. I don’t know how to live radically enough. I don’t know how to live according to Jesus's Way. I want to be radically different. I want to live radically different. I want to live simply so others may simply live. But I feel weak.

It’s a new understanding of “the flesh is so weak.” I never knew I could be so weak--to KNOW the truth, truly truly truly know it deep down inside, and desire to ignore it. I wish ignorance upon myself all the time.  It would be easier to remain deaf and dumb to Christ’s wishes and commands. I don’t want to care. I don’t want to know that I SHOULD give up wealth and fame and status.  I don’t like knowing that “to live my life I have to lose it.” I don’t want to give up coffee shops and beauty products and GAP jeans and ethnic restaurants and books and travel and the prospect of owning my own home someday.  I want to go on living the way I want to live.

But I’m burdened with knowledge. I’m going to struggle with this the rest of my years.

I also know that there are places seeking to reconcile life and our weakness with the path Jesus carved out so lovingly for us to live. I know there are places seeking to be peace and light. I want to be light. I want to live justly. I want to explore with others the meaning of community and to wrestle constantly with these impossible questions.  I can live in a Catholic Worker community.

I want to know the truth. I want it to set me free.  But I’m scared shitless of what I might have to abandon: relationships with friends and family, comfort, sleep, peace of mind.  And how do we love others who don’t understand our truth? Is my truth THE truth? How can I lovingly and humbly live despite the thoughts I have about injustice and consumerism? How can I live without judging others, how can I talk to other people about the way I feel and the way I want to live? I don’t want to isolate others, to judge others, to assume I’m right.

“God, teach me how to exist, how to live, so that my life should not be so loathsome to me.” -Tolstoy

Revolution.

Dorothy Day's reflections on Christmas, from catholicworker.org:


We have all probably noted those sudden moments of quiet--those strange and almost miraculous moments in the life of a big city when there is a cessation of traffic noises--just an instant when there is only the sound of footsteps which serves to emphasize a sudden peace. During those seconds it is possible to notice the sunlight, to notice our fellow humans, to take breath.


After hours of excitement and action and many human contacts, when even in one's sleep and at moments of waking there is a sense of the imminence of things to be done and of conflict ahead, it is good to seek those moments of perfect stillness and refreshment during early Mass.


Then indeed it seems that God touches the heart and the mind. There are moments of recollection, of realization when the path seems straighter, the course to be followed perfectly plain, though not easy. It is as though the great Physician to whom we go for healing had put straight that which was dislocated, and prescribed a course of action so definite that we breathe relief at having matters taken out of our hands.


Such a moment came this morning with the thought--the revolution we are engaged in is a lonely revolution, fought out in our own hearts, a struggle between Nature and Grace.


It is the most important work of all in which we are engaged.


If we concentrate our energies primarily on that; then we can trust those impulses of the Holy Spirit and follow them simply, without question. We can trust and believe that all things will work together for good to them that love God, and that He will guide and direct us in our work. We will accomplish just what he wishes us to accomplish and no more, regardless of our striving. Since we have good will, one need no longer worry as though the work depended just on ourselves.

War is Over (If You Want It)

Every year at Christmas, I'm reminded of John Lennon and Yoko Ono's 1969 War is Over peace campaign. They bought billboards in 11 major world cities in their effort to "sell peace" while politicians and corporations sell war:

Today the song "Happy X-mas (War Is Over)" is a popular Christmas song, but I doubt many people know its origins in Lennon and Ono's peace campaign.  Two years after their billboards were posted, they wrote the song, and today there's a video:

 

The thing that fascinates me most about the entire campaign is its request of each and every one of us. War is over if YOU want it. If we all stood up and said "war no more," there would be no more war.  It sounds crazy. It sounds too simple and too idealistic and impossible.  But it's so true.  If we, the people, truly do believe that government is ours--that it derives its power from the people, by the people, for the people--then why allow governments to continue to brutally murder our families and people around the world?  Why do we give up our power and believe that our voices, our actions, our beliefs don't matter?  If we refused to participate, there could be no war.

And how can we refuse?

• We can refuse through democracy. Call out elected representatives who support war or violence of any kind.  Don't elect politicians who speak about war escalation.  Unfortunately, even "peace" candidates can start conflicts and escalate wars and instigate violence.  But you don't have to vote to speak against what our government is doing.  Write handwritten letters to your senators and congresswomen/men and speak your mind.  Let them know that their constituents want war to end.
• We can refuse with our money.  Don't buy products from companies that help manufacture the war machine (and a surprising number of them do). 
• We can refuse in numbers. Protest. Organize. Get together around a common issue and speak out. We're strong together.

Most importantly, how can we build peace?

• Meet your neighbors.  It hard to build a peaceful world if we're all strangers. Bake cookies for the person next door.  Talk to the person working behind the counter at the grocery store.  Organize a community meal.  The more we share stories, the more we build relationships and community, the more vulnerable we become, the more peace there will be.  That's the beautiful paradox of peace: the more vulnerable become, the stronger and safer we are.
• Seek inner peace.  It's hard to have peace with others if you're not at peace with yourself. What makes you angry?  Name it. Address it peacefully. A wise man once said that "peace is every step."

Some sites to check out:

• 50 Ways to Become the Answer to Our Prayers
• 64 Ways in 64 Days: Daily Commitments to Live By
• A Season of Nonviolence - January 30-April 4

I truly believe that this earth contains everything we need for a more peaceful world--enough food, water, clothing, shelter, love, peace, joy--we just lack the moral courage and political will to redistribute, to give up luxury, to stand up against the system and act for peace.

War (and all social injustice) is over. If we want it.

Tolstoy's thoughts on OWS?

Sometimes I believe in fated things. A series of events led me to Tolstoy's spiritual writings. Everything has a time and place. I have been searching and I found Tolstoy. Every line, every word resonates with something I've questioned in my own life, questioned in my own existence, questioned in the world. There's a poignancy that seems beyond mere coincidence.

From The Kindgom of God is within You:

Whoever you are reading these lines, think of your position and of your duties--not of your position as landowner, businessman, lawyer, politician, minister, soldier, which has been temporarily alloted you by society, and not of the imaginary duties laid on you by those positions, but of your real position in eternity as a creature who, at the will of Someone, has been called out of unconsciousness after an eternity of nonexistence to which you may return at any moment at his will.

Think of your real duties, the duties that follow from your real position as a being called into life and endowed with reason and love.

Are you doing what God has sent you into the world for, and to whom you will soon return? Are you doing what he wills? Are you doing his will, when as landowner or entrepreneur you rob the poor of the fruits of their toil, basing your life on this plunder of the workers, or when, as judge or governor, you sentence them to execution, or when as soldiers you prepare for war, killing, and plunder?

Even if you are told that all this is necessary for maintaining the existing order, and that greater disasters would ensue if the way things are were destroyed, isn't it obvious that all that is said by those who profit by such an arrangement, while those who suffer from it--and they are ten times as numerous [in 2011 99 times as numerous?]--think to the contrary? And at the bottom of your heart you know yourself that it is not true, that the existing order of things is not how things are supposed to be.

More importantly, even if such a life is necessary, why you believe it is your duty to maintain it at the cost of your best feelings? Who has made you the nurse in charge of this sick and moribund system? Not society nor the state nor anyone. No one asked you to undertake this. You who fill your position of landowner, businessman, politician, priest, or soldier know very well that you occupy that position not because you are so concerned about other people's happiness, but simply to satisfy your own interests, to satisfy your own security and well-being. If you did not desire that position, you would not be doing your utmost to retain it.

Try the experiment of ceasing to compromise your conscience in order to retain your position, and you will lose it at once. Think about it.

nomads

it’s a strange time, your twenties. after spending formative, precious years developing incredible relationships with people and ideas, it happens. the post-college diaspora.  all of your dear friends and your beautiful ideas scatter across the world, each person taking with them a piece of you.

and you are fragmented, drifting the planet. lost. but oh, so free.

Portland... where my writing career begins?

I'm in Portland for a week, visiting Tess and Brent, a much-needed breather from the chaos that has been life in Milwaukee.  The entire plane ride here I couldn't help but wonder if I had contracted melanoma from working the rooftop patio at Benelux due to the total exhaustion I couldn't seem to shake the past two days, not to mention the crazy thoughts consuming my head in my time off... crazy thoughts that led me to blowing $210 on the GRE that I didn't take on Monday morning.  C'est la vie.

Anyway.  Here I am in hipster's paradise (realizing just how hipster I've become) getting lost in Powell's Books, conversing with the locals, catching up on long-neglected correspondence, working my way through my summer reading list, and brushing up on my anarchist theories while I wait for my darling friends to get off work.  I'm back at the place where my 2011 began and where I made the resolution to become a writer.  So this might be it.  I'm hoping for a few more entries posted to this here blog from this here World Cup Cafe.

Currently enjoying Sophie's World by Jostein Gaarder.

She would not be living on this planet for more than a few years.  But if the history of mankind was her own history, in a way she was thousands of years old.

More to come this week.  That's more of a promise to myself than to you, dear reader.

A "Great Story" from my first year of service

As a corps member, we're required to write 4 "Great Stories" from our year of service.  This one was posted on the Admission Possible website:

Coach Katy Resop recalls her favorite moment of the year

In October, Admission Possible took 30 students to Chicago State University. It was a great opportunity for students to visit a predominantly African-American campus in an urban setting outside Milwaukee. Students asked intelligent questions and enjoyed their interactions with faculty and staff members. But the best part didn't happen until we were on the bus on our way home.

I was already so proud of them after a successful visit when a heated discussion broke out on the charter bus on the way home. A senior boy was explaining to a junior girl, "I'm here on this campus visit on a day off from school, working hard to get to college, so I can make something of myself. I want to better myself and make something of my life instead of getting caught up in crime and drugs." One of my girls countered, "But we need to better ourselves so we can better our communities, not just leave them. I want to go to college and go back to my neighborhood to make it a better place." The drama was thick, voices were raised, and nervous laughter was interspersed throughout the intense sparring match. One girl was recording the conversation on her phone. The coaches at the front of the bus smiled proudly at one another as we listened to the unprompted conversation unfold behind us. The whole bus had tuned into the debate.

The discussion ended with both sides in agreement. They recognized that they had been arguing the same thing, just from different view points: they both wanted to get a college degree for reasons beyond their own self-interest. They wanted to change the future for their families, their communities and ultimately the world.

When I got off the bus at the end of our trip, I was bursting with respect and pride for our students. Not only are they overcoming very real challenges to their own personal success, but they are fully aware of the magnitude that their education has on the community at large, and they're bravely accepting that role. I feel honored to work with and know the next generation of change-makers.

The Abundant Life

"Children look at things very directly and simply.  I did not see anyone taking off his coat and giving it to the poor.  I didn't see anyone having a banquet and calling in the lame, the halt and the blind.  And those who were doing it, like the Salvation Army, did not appeal to me.  I wanted, though I did not know it then, a synthesis.  I wanted life and I wanted the abundant life.  I wanted it for others too.  I did not want just the few, the missionary-minded people like the Salvation Army, to be kind to the poor, as the poor.  I wanted everyone to be kind.  I wanted every home to be open to the lame, the halt and the blind, the way it had been after the San Francisco earthquake.  Only then did people really live, really love their brothers.  In such love was the abundant life and I did not have the slightest idea how to find it."
-Dorothy Day-

Dear Z

Follow-up to last week's post: a letter that I wrote to my student.  Here's hoping she reads it and that it convinces her that her future's worth showing up to the ACT this Saturday.

**********

Dear Z,

I'm very sorry about what happened between us last Tuesday.  I think we misunderstood one another.  I want you to know that I believe in you.  I didn't mean to mean to make you feel like I didn't want you in session, and I'm very sorry if I did.

I care about you and your future.  I'm so proud of how hard you've worked this year.  You're brilliant and talented.  You're an amazing person with so much potential.  That's what I see in you; that's what Admission Possible sees in you.  And that's why we accepted you into our program--because we know you're going to do amazing things in your future.

You've worked so hard this year, and your hard work has been paying off.  Your ACT score has gone up!  I have full confidence that with your determination, it will be even higher on Saturday.

I believe in you.  Admission Possible believes in you.  The teachers and staff believe in you.  Now it's up to you to believe in yourself.  You can do amazing things.  I will support you along the way, but ultimately it's up to you to show up to the ACT on Saturday--NOT for me, but for yourself and your future.

I can't wait to see your scores after April 9.  I can't wait to see you take one step closer to college.  I hope to see you in session this week.

-Katy

**********

Update: not only is she coming, she thanked me for the note. :)  I couldn't be happier.

But I will hold on hope.

"hmm, what does that say?"
"Goal for Juniors, that's what it said!"

Yesterday, 11 days before the ACT, I had a major altercation with a student.  After working all year to earn her trust, I lost it all in a matter of minutes.

Oddly enough, I feel encouraged.  The past 3 weeks I've slipped into a miserable ACT-score depression (we're talking sprawling-on-kitchen-floor, slumping-in-chair, sleepless-night, permanent-frown depression), so you'd think that fracturing a hard-fought relationship with my most challenging student would shove me several inches past sanity.  Yet it actually restored my hope and reminded me (at an unbelievably critical time) exactly why I'm doing this work.

A few months ago, I wrote the "great story" below for work about this very student.  Reading it now during crunch time reminds me just how much I care about her and all 32 of my girls.  That's the foundation of our work: doing whatever it takes to empower young people, to show them how capable, talented, and strong they are, that we love and support them and believe they can change the world.

We aren't giving up on the youth of Milwaukee.  We'll never give up on the youth of Milwaukee.

I have a lot of relationship repair to do in the next 10 days to ensure this student takes the ACT on April 9.  This week has been a truly epic culmination of so many wonderful and challenging experiences I've had this year.  I've learned so much about hope and love, and I owe that to the compassionate staff at my school, my incredibly supportive co-workers, supervisors, and friends, and, most of all, my amazing students.

So here's a "great story" about one of them:
_____________________________________________________

Everytime I needed to talk to her, I had to give myself a pep talk. Logically I knew that I talk to 17-year-olds everyday with great success and no fear. But she was different.

From the moment we admitted her to our program in the fall, I knew she was tough. When I told her she had been accepted, she gave me only the slightest head movement to acknowledge she had heard me. When I found her in the lunchroom to coax her into coming to session, I received eye rolls and curt replies to my questions, if I was lucky. She barely acknowledged my existence and didn't come to session. I knew I was going to have to work hard to earn her trust. Slowly but surely I knew I'd have to chip away at the harsh front she had put up to distance herself from me and almost everyone else at my school.

Even though she never stayed after school, she had perfect attendance at weekend events, including practice ACTs, volunteer opportunities, and campus visits. I quickly learned that despite her poor GPA, she was a brilliant student. On a campus visit to Mount Mary, I saw her drill the tour guide with intelligent questions. I noticed she was incredibly driven to go to college. She just didn’t know how to get there.

I started paying attention to who she ate with in the lunchroom and encouraged her friends to bring her to session. In December, she started staying after school regularly, even if always strolling in 15 minutes after we began with headphones in ears and an apathetic stare firmly in place. That didn't phase me--I was ecstatic.

Right before winter break I had the opportunity to talk one-on-one with her in a check-in. Looking her in the eye, I told her I knew she had what it takes to get into college, and that together, with a lot of hard work, we'd get her there.

For the first time since I met her, I saw her smile.

She's become one of my regulars. I can always count on her to show up twice a week. She brings with her good questions and a determination that never ceases to impress me. Just a few weeks ago, she raised her hand in the middle of session and asked, "Do I get to keep these (Kaplan) books?" I assured her they were hers to keep forever and ever. "Good. I want to give them to my kids someday to help them get to college. Will the test change much?"

I was probably beaming uncontrollably when I replied, "That's awesome. But first, let's get you to college. Then we'll make sure your kids go too."

To which she responded in her curt manner, "Sounds good."