The Way I See It.

My Jesuit Volunteer year is quickly coming to an end, and it’s both hard to believe and something I’m truly looking forward to. I’ve made really good friends and had some great experiences, but I’m ready to move forward and see what the next chapter holds.

I don’t have any clearer picture of what I want to do with my life than when I arrived in California last August, but one thing I’ve definitely seen this year is the value of commitment.

A few weeks ago I was at Starbucks and my tall cup of black coffee had on it “The Way I See It #76”:

"The irony of commitment is that it’s deeply liberating – in work, in play, in love. The act frees you from the tyranny of your internal critic, from the fear that likes to dress itself up and parade around as rational hesitation. To commit is to remove your head as the barrier to your life." - Anne Morriss

The exciting part of the JV year is long gone—moving out to California, meeting other recent college grads, finding your own definition of the words “social justice,” becoming comfortable working with homeless clients—that was the exciting part. Right now for most JV’s their jobs are second-nature, they are tired of not making money and the truth of the matter is that it’d probably be more beneficial to go wait tables or find any other job.

But few, if any, will take the easy route. This is the part of the year that is truly a test. It is a test of your ability to live in the present moment, to give your best when you would rather be elsewhere and your commitment to serve marginalized populations.

That is the thing about social justice—it’s not always front page news. Actually, it’s rarely news at all. The headlines: “Man Needs Shower,” “Man Needs Cup of Coffee,” “Man Needs Referral to Overnight Shelter,” are not glitzy or attention grabbing. No, they are only true.

Change is slow and it takes a renewed commitment each day to serve your clients with dignity and patience, optimism and compassion without worry of outcome. And maybe, as I’ve experienced this year, you’ll see an old client on the street and he’ll be dressed nicely and thank you for your help. Or, as often happens, most clients will simply disappear from your life without a good-bye, and that’s okay too.

Stories, Freedom and a Picture of Lake Merritt.

Photo by José Antonio Galloso

On Thursday over 60 people came to St. Vincent de Paul to meet with the Public Defender and prepare for the upcoming Homeless Court that will be held next Friday in our community center. Due to the difficulties of reaching our clients, many of whom only have voice-mail boxes they check infrequently or phones that oscillate in and out of service, it would be nearly impossible to set up appointment times. So instead, we have everyone show up a little before 9:30 with a first-come, first-served policy. At best you could describe the situation as controlled-chaos--more accurately though, it was mostly just chaos. But really, as a whole all of the clients were extremely patient, understanding and excited to be part of the program.

Last night before bed, I opened up The Best American Short Stories 2008 edited by Salman Rushdie and in the introduction he wrote: “…The freedom to tell each other the stories of ourselves, to retell the stories of our culture and beliefs, is profoundly connected to the larger subject of freedom itself…”

That quotation reminded me of my clients who show tremendous strength in addressing their legal matters. We have them write a letter to the judge and document their personal progress, growth and achievements, which the court accepts in lieu of a financial payment.

Essentially, they are telling their own stories, many of which involve job loss, drug abuse, failed marriages and countless other peaks and valleys. For many people, these stories would be too painful and embarrassing, but as I’ve seen throughout this year, our clients refuse to indulge in false pride and they are better for it. It’s clear that the process of addressing their problems--refusing to hide in the shadows and watch their lives spin out of control--is incredibly liberating in a way that someone such as myself who doesn’t live in the margins of society, can ever fully comprehend.