There is a gift in being small, there is a gift in small things.

Thankful….

I’m thankful for clothes, and that I can wear them, even if I’ve worn some holes into them. I’m thankful that I can stay warm, and that I can wear something that I like, something that I feel good about wearing.

And right now, I noticed that I’m glad that I can see my feet, even if they are covered in boots. Sight is something that I never think about.

I’m thankful for wisdom, words, ways and wonder that point to what’s true.

I’m thankful for the gift of employees to share conversation over the burden of work that isn’t always pleasurable or fun to do. I’m thankful for the opportunities to turn menial or mundane times into quiet, intentional moments of stillness (like Brother Lawrence would do.)

I’m thankful for being able to give the opportunity to take color theory and mix colors.
Thankful that I’m single. That I’m not in a relationship mistakenly looking for joy there, being able to have the opportunity to see that a relationship isn’t something that I want to find joy in, but to bring joy in.

Thankful for the friends that I’ve made and the each new day that I get to a chance to see them better than the day before, to enjoy them, to understand, to learn from them and about them.

I’m thankful for every crisis of faith that I have ever had, for they have allowed me to find liberation in Grace, rather than my own answers.

There is a lot that I miss. I miss the stars. Only one is bright enough to show it’s face in the orange-black night sky of Philadelphia-land. But still, there is so much today.

There is a lot that is different. There are housemates who are different. So so different from me and my old friends. But they are challenging to me. They are good for me. And they have different ways of blessing me, whether they be with free haircuts/shaves, giving the best hugs and kisses, confronting me with the truth, or agreeing to go see Band of Horses with me. This isn’t art school, there aren’t dance-offs in dorms, music making or 2am trips to the beach… but different is good. I know that this time is right and good for me.

I’ve been struggling with depression/anxiety sense I’ve been in Philly. That’s why I’m a patient at Esperanza. I’ve found that being thankful helps to fight the intrusive sadness that wants to be there. It can be hard, because at times, every fiber of my being wants to create a million excuses to why I shouldn’t be thankful for this; I’ll try to convince myself that I’m hopeless or that things are awful, and they really aren’t. We are small, and yet we mean something. There’s so much goodness and grace in the world, and in my world. I just need to look for it.

Such goodness must be passed on…

A Pauper's Rite of Passage

Here in Southwest Philly, routine has etched itself deeply into the lives of my teammates and I. Our usual four day volunteer week was interrupted as it switched into a four-day weekend on behalf of Thanksgiving, in which we spent with the family across the street of our home sweet home. 

We’re entering the last stretch of the 1st trimester of our Mission Year adventure, and to think that our time here has already flown past the way it has leaves me wondering what to do with the bittersweet bubbling I‘ve been experiencing in my mind and heart.

It has come to be known to me that quite a lot has occurred over the past few weeks, including happenings in the month of October that I still feel somewhat unable to fully process. The idea that many events and encounters have happened and realizing that I had found little opportunity to reflect on these occurrences has left me feeling somewhat unsettled. Perhaps that is result of immersing yourself quite rapidly in a new environment filled with all new people, streets and buildings.

However, I was encouraged by one of my teammates today to meditate on and write about my PROP experience, as I had mentioned to her how I touched it briefly on my blog but have yet to tackle and reflect on it fully; even in my conversation with friends, I have spared much of the details and thoughts concerning my own experiencing during this outing.

A Pauper's Right of Passage

PROP is an acronym for Pauper’s Rite of Passage, an idea birthed from the mind of Mission Year’s academic director and the teacher for my Theology of Poverty class, Chris Lahr. The idea of PROP was to spend the day out in the streets with no possessions, no money, no cell phone devices -- nada. Chris had introduced this challenge to us upon a discussion he brought us into during our weekly citywide gathering that called into question common approaches with outreach to the homeless and those who spend much of their time in the streets. I wasn’t particularly daunted by this challenge at first, especially sense before coming to Philadelphia, I had already spent parts of my weekends in college hanging out with hitchhikers, punks and houseless people that I met on the streets.

However, it wasn’t until we began the challenge that things got… well… awkward. All of a sudden, I was expected to participate in this “rite of passage”, thrown out into street to experience solitude and a mobile meditation, encouraged to build connections without an agenda. As I found myself wandering through the city with my housemate, Michael, we found ourselves wrestling a lot with what we were challenged with and what we could possibly learn. 

We weren’t to pretend that we were homeless or street kids in order to "see what it's like". But, now, as I look back, I think that what I experienced was what it is like to be naked and vulnerable in a world where some are able to get away with being covered up easier than others. I gave thought to the implications that some of the interactions that occurred had made between me and the persons who interacted with me. I found myself more able to sink into casual conversation with those who saw me to be “on their level” or as “some thirsty kid with nothing better to do”. Perhaps, having nothing to do and nowhere to go but stand outside a 7Eleven wishing for a bottle of water was a type of solidarity that allowed the folks who experience life on the streets daily to be vulnerable with me. In turn, I found it more difficult to engage with those who didn’t see me that way, those who would beg to me as if they could see the manmade difference of privilege between us, like they would to the people who passed in front of us. Something about having someone beg to you right off the bat tends to establish what type of relationship might result, Michael mused. Perhaps it was that revelation, that made me feel unsettled when I gave the begging man my cup of water, and we moved on. It was like I used my power and privilege -- my stuff-- as a replacement for myself, as a means to not offer up my own brokenness; the fact that I‘m in need, too. And it’s hard knowing what to do when it appeared at the time as though the only thing that the one who begged to me expected that I might give was my shallow stuff as opposed to my time, my story -- me.

As all 21 of us Mission Year kids gathered together upon reflection that night, some shared stories about their experience with panhandling. One guy in particular sharing with us that he began to appreciate the “no“s that acknowledged and heard his request as opposed to the obliviousness passerbys would fain. As many of us experimented with panhandling, we realized as we were overlooked by people we would normally identify as “our tribe” how much each of us overlook the brothers and sisters who may not appear to be like us, the very people whom Jesus called us to love. It was one of those occurrences which causes you to realize with a new sense how truly poor we are. All of us are. 

So now, as I pass folks everyday on my way to Esperanza, I pass both those people who appear broken and in need and those who can cover it up easily like so much of us can with our wealth, privilege and titles. I continue to wrestle with what it means to be myself in a hurting and unjust world, one in which individuals continue to choose blindness, to turn its head to the poverty of others as well as their own, one that continues to dismiss the need for the grace and love G-d has left hanging perpetually in the air, ready to be claimed by anyone who wishes to have redeemed the brokeness that we all share, regardless of where we come from and what we have. I’m excited (and nervous) about how G-d will be using these revelations through out my life and as I progress through this program with my housemates. I encourage you to pray for all of us here.

The Story So Far...

To be very honest, it has been very difficult for me to articulate all that has happened the past two months here at Mission Year.

So here, I will make a list of those events and occurrences  and maybe, I will elaborate on some of these. Please, don't hesitate to ask questions, to post comments below. If there is anything that you are unclear about or want to discuss, please let me know. I want to have a conversation with you. I wouldn't mind at all speaking to you over the phone, or maybe over on Skype or corresponding over email, really. Besides, I'm SUPER grateful for the support that I've been receiving from you, and I want you to be able to share in my experience as much as possible.

So here we grow...

1. A week ago, all of us participating in Mission Year Philadelphia participated in something that one of our leaders at Mission Year, Chris Lahr, introduced to us, called Pauper's Right of Passage (PROP). The idea of PROP is to spend the entire day out in the streets with nothing, no possessions, no money, no cell phone. Nada. I went with one of my housemates, Micheal, downtown to spend the day there. We were encouraged to make interactions of course, as well as to panhandle (why, yes, I'm writing that quite lightly. I did panhandle, and I know that some folks reading this might be offended by this). I encourage you to read Mary's and Katelin's experiences as I got too discouraged early in the process of panhandling that, I didn't continue for too long compared to some of my peers. However, one thing I found in common amongst our experiences were that during the time that we were out in the streets, we noticed that when we asked people for help, that most people would ignore us and pretend that we weren't there. One man in particular told me to go away, which wounded me deeply in how he carried his tone, as if I was someone to be afraid of. Some of my peers had more positive experiences, and the person who helped me get a bottle of water didn't look like he was doing "well off" himself. However, Micheal and I were able to make a few new friends along the way, one of them formally being houseless and another being a girl and her boyfriend whom Micheal visited today and discovered that they were doing well.

I'm still processing so much of that weekend and I wish that I could share it in a more narrative form.

2. I'm taking a classed call "Theology of Poverty" which is taking place out of a partnership between Mission Year and Eastern University. For the first part of my class, we have done Scriptural journals; journals that are based on reflecting on different Scriptures. With this assignment, we've been given questions about the particular Scripture that allows us to reflect on G-d's heart for people and the nature of poverty. With these journals, I've been thinking about how really, we are ALL poor, regardless of whether we are in the United States or in India. We are all hungry and thirsty and needy, but, that hunger and need is manifested in different ways, depending on our lives, depending if we are physically rich or physically poor. Regardless, we are all hungry for love and meaning, acceptance....  Taking this class as a supplement to my Mission Year experience has really challenged me in the way I view myself, and the way I see others, and I see myself with a much more humble perspective, a perspective that has shown me how much the world really needs the love, hope and peace of G-d.

Again, I'm still trying meditating on all of this. I find myself wishing to express myself mostly in poetic or narrative form once again, but, am finding myself unable to at the moment, for I often feel so cramped with time.

3 A lot of what I've been experiencing here is ministry to my own heart. A lot of times, we can partake in programs like these and expect to be the one that is doing the serving and doing the loving. But, I've been learning about how necessary it is for us to be able to go places as disciples of Christ and allow ourselves to be loved by those that we serve or live among. It is dignifying to the other person, and can be dehumanizing if we don't allow folks to give and bless us. Here, I've been seeing how I am experiencing a lot of healing from relationships that wounded me deeply in the past. Being here among so many people like my housemates, who are simply doing their best to show me G-d's love incarnationally in my life, and also spur me on in trusting the ways of Christ, ways of peace and reconciliation... it's been changing me a whole heck of a lot. And I find that important, especially as someone who wants to better understand how deep and wide and long and tall the love of G-d is.

So, the process of sharing with you what is happening and what I'm learning during this time that I am away, has been difficult, because, it can not be described in terms of "missions trip" as I have been taught to think of mission trips. Mission Year isn't a mission trip and at the same time it is. But the thing about Mission Year, is that Mission Year has challenged a lot of what is often thought or done with missions. With Mission Year, I am learning and experiencing a way of life, rather than some goal. Mission Year causes me to think truly about what it means to be a disciple and what it means to make disciples. And this is a time where I find myself experiencing conversion, transformation, within myself, where I've been finding. I've been thinking so much about how Jesus scolded the Pharisees for cleaning only the outside of their bowls, where it doesn't truly count. I thank G-d that I am here, but here in Philly in this time I am seeing that He is helping me clean the inside of my cup with his all consuming fiery love (yay for Christianese! but, hey, it's a dang good metaphor...), as I hope, so that all that I do may be born of the love He has for me. Besides, nothing we do is great if it isn't in love, right?

So, our only goal and our only agenda is to love. We're not here to save Philly. G-d is going to save Philly and the whole word, He already has. And we're only taking part in it. So, my only agenda, or rather, the only agenda that I want to have is to love people and to love G-d. And I think, the first step in love, is to listen, to listen to the needs of others, for that is what G-d does for us, he hears us cry. Our Father has heard us, and has continued to hear us as we call out to Him in all aspects of our lives. The only way I can imagine living is in that same light, to share that love with the world.


From Philly with love,
~Rachel