The Consequences of Deciding Who Needs Our Service

I recently completed a course called "The Mind-Body-Energy Toolkit". The class was mostly geared towards people working in mental health as clinicians (as I do in addition to my work at William Penn House), but I find that what I learn in these classes also has applications in all of our community work and in Quaker Workcamps. After all, when it comes to addressing the large social justice issues, we have to remember that we are all humans first, and as human we have some basic psychological processes that transcend all the silos we like to create to divide us. Unfortunately, I have often noticed that when it comes to service programs and creating funding, policies and protocols, basic truths about psychology are often neglected. How else to explain why very smart people continue to address issues such as stigma by targeting people for service and engagement. It only reinforces the stigma.

In this class, the instructor, Dr. Robert Schwarz, a specialist in Comprehensive Energy Psychology, effectively demonstrated how moods and thoughts influence energy - our own as well as that of those around us.  In class demonstrations, "energy" was measured by muscle resistance. People had less energy both when they were asked to think thoughts, and when we were asked to think negative thoughts of volunteers, unbeknownst to them. We all know this: the more optimistic or good we feel about things, the more energy we have. But what are the implications of this when it comes to how we engage in well-meaning service work from a model that often relies on assumptions of what people need without knowing them?

It is both an honor and a responsibility we take seriously, and that responsibility includes trying to
bridge the gaps between what social sciences show us and how we engage in social justice work. The challenge is raising awareness about the importance of engaging with people at the personal level rather than at the level of assumptions. Often we hear reflections about how different people are, or how much we feel good about helping those in need. As Lilla Watson is often quoted, "If you have come here to help me, you are wasting your time. But if you have because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together." It is this spirit - the spirit of unification - that we know sustainable change and peacemaking takes place. The "us/them" divide, even in well-meaning service efforts, still serves as division and requires a certain level of judgment about others and their needs that can negatively influence the energy flow of healing and possibility that we are trying to bring about.

So, as much as understanding history, and some of the disciplines of environment, climate change, culture, history and nutrition when we set out to do service, it is perhaps as important to consider the role of psychology, mirroring neurons and energy as a primer of service learning and experiential learning. It's not what we think, but how we connect, that matters. Planting the seeds of awareness about this are important. As Quakers are fond of saying, "There is that of God in All." Mirroring neurons flowing from positive thoughts and open hearts help to create the energy to truly let this be of peacemaking service to the world.

Words Are Never Enough: Reflections from Pine Ridge

The wind started shaking my tent at 1:58AM. We had to drop people off at the airport 100 miles away by 4:30AM. It was as if the wind knew, and was acting as Mother Earth’s alarm clock, helping us to take care of what needed to be done.

These are the kinds of things that seem to happen every time we are on Pine Ridge. Energy, spirit and relationships are strong, and it is easier to be present in the moment. Wind announces that it is coming so that you can stop what you are doing and revel in its cooling presence. White cows emerge just as they are inquired about; dogs warn us to prepare for storms in the most remarkable ways – knocking on doors; cars get stuck in mud just in time for us to get out and see remarkable views. The

ever-present nature, the natural beauty of the Rez and the Badlands, weather elements, plants and animals (including horses joining us for dinner) all help us deepen our connection to all that is around us in ways that are not always felt in our daily routines. They are what invite a downpour of rain to become a communal shower, and deeply appreciating a nap in the shade. They are what get people to wake up at 5AM just to watch the sunrise or fall into frequent moments of silence and worship.

Mike Sierra's farm

And there are the remarkable and inspiring people. Shannon Freed, her husband Adam Weasel and his father Gerald Weasel, through their company Earth Tipi, are working to be a demonstration of sustainability in Manderson while also developing a place for people to come together to explore, be a part of, and help build a sense of community. Mike Sierra and his wife and the small farm way off the beaten path in Oglala that is a model of healthy, organic vegetables grown local – something we saw more signs of this year than we have seen in past years. Reva High Horse and her niece and husband Cindy and Dwayne High Horse, carrying on the tradition of the Sundance in a way that, over the course of a few short days, builds deep and lasting relationships – one big family that extends to include all of us who came together, often as strangers or acquaintances, as we explore our own faith, values and traditions while learning those of the Lakota through fellowship, work and stories. Our tasks may not always make sense to us, but we learn to respect their importance to others. Respect is a necessary component of peace and justice work. Through it all, there are also the struggles of addiction, unemployment, and idleness. As one of our members said during our last worship-sharing, this is real life, not the materialistic, frenetic lives we tend to live when we leave the Rez. 

Inside tipi after Meeting for Worship

“Are these the Quakers?” asked one of the leaders of the High Horse Sundance, pointing to the tents that housed 20 of us from a mix of Friends entities that included a private school (Sidwell), a college (Wilmington) and a Monthly Meeting (Downingtown, PA). Mike Gray is the constant Quaker presence, as he has been for over 20 years. Through William Penn Quaker Workcamps, we try to do our part to help maintain that Quaker presence – not just in numbers but in our faith and practice. We are a witness, and our own worship becomes something for others to witness and to participate in, just as we participate in sweats and song. As we heard from a Lakota man who works as a park ranger at Badlands National Park’s Lakota-managed division, we all worship one God, just in different ways. The hospitality expressed at the High Horse Sundance is a testimony to that.

We have now all returned home, with the exception of Mike who will be heading south in a week or

so. We have moved back to beds from nights on the ground, sometimes in tents, sometimes under the stars, or in a few cases, in a tipi. We have washed off most of the dirt that we had become a bit accustomed to (although will likely still find remnants of dirt, grass and bugs in our clothes for a while), and the facial hair we may not otherwise sport is shaved. It is ironic that being so used to not cleaning ourselves can lead to feeling so cleansed. We were wisely counseled by Rosebud elder Charlene to listen to and pursue our dreams and our purpose. Perhaps not being so concerned with earthly things like what to wear and how to look opens way for doing this. Our dreams will be perhaps driven more by our hearts that are now fuller, our love and our tears. We are hopefully more whole, more grounded, more intentional and more respectful as we re-engage our minds to our purpose. We are also challenged to step up our support for the Lakota and other native Americans – whether it is calling on Congress to stop cutting Indian healthcare funds or fully funding Indian colleges (both of which are treaty commitments that continue to be violated), or calling on President Obama to pardon Leonard Peltier before he leaves office in a few months, or directly supporting the work of Earth Tipi or Mike Sierra.

William Penn set out to create the Peaceable Kingdom. We have a long way to go, but we saw glimpses of what is possible the last few weeks. We hope that more F/friends will join us so we can maintain – and perhaps grow – the presence of the Quakers on the ground next summer and in spirit and advocacy throughout the years. 

From July 20 to August 4, William Penn Quaker Workcamps was on Pine Ridge. Many thanks to Mike Gray, Shannon Fried, Adam Weasel, Mike Sierra, Reva High Horse, and Jeff Domenick and Sue McKenna from Downingtown Friends Meeting. And to all who joined us, what a ride! You were all fantastic. Let’s keep it going. More pictures can be seen on William Penn Quaker Workcamps' facebook page (https://www.facebook.com/williampennquakerworkcamps/photos/?tab=album&album_id=293764887644760)

-Brad Ogilvie

Fear of Tears

"I had to turn away. Otherwise, I was going to start crying."

These were the words of a recent WPQW participant who was in DC with her college for an alternative break week. We were taking time for reflection about what insights, experiences, or wisdom they had noticed from their time with us, so far. The activities included participating in Our Daily Bread (a fellowship community breakfast with people from all walks of life, including many who sleep on the streets and in shelters), garden winterization and soil prep for spring planting, and street outreach with people that are homeless.

Among the insights of other folks was the realization, garnered from their 1:1 time with people, that listening to people, simply engaging in conversation, being with people where they are, matters. In this was also the awareness of the fact that mental illness has high co-morbidity with the homeless population, but to really connect we have to have a relationship. Others had reflections that it all can seem overwhelming as we seek answers (I maintain that it is not answers that keep us moving, but the next good question), and that the real work for social justice has to continue in their daily lives, not just as an alternative vacation.

But it was the role of tears where things got real. One student spoke - somewhat apologetically - through her tears about how a homeless woman told her that she and her fellow-students reminded the woman of her own daughters. It brings it home - there are families, loved ones, and whole life stories that remain invisible. Then, there was the statement by the student about needing to turn away from all the stimulus. She said it was overwhelming. I suspect, and we talked about it, that what was overwhelming was not what was going on around her, but what was welling up inside of her, perhaps a mixture of anger, sadness, guilt, disgust, even love, and her all-too-common belief that we should not be emotional. And it is the fear of tears, the sadness, perhaps intellectualized as a sense of weakness, that we seem the most uncomfortable with, and it often leads us to want to flee.

And yet, we need to be with these emotions, fully present not just with our heads but with our hearts, embracing them, not fighting them, if we are truly to engage in the good work of trying to make the world a better place.  We can talk about statistics of poverty, mental illness, health indicators, etc., but as Emma Goldman said, "The demand for equal rights in every vocation of life is just and fair; but after all, the most vital right is to love and be loved." To be loving means being able to laugh and cry. When we turn away from our tears when they naturally occur, we turn away from our emotions, and we turn away from being present with others. But when we let it flow, we strengthen ourselves, become more present and more whole to carry on the good work.

A Friendly Reference: A Spectrum of Experiences in Campus Ministry

Over the past two years, I have had the good fortune of support from the William Penn House in creating Quaker campus ministry groups. At present, I serve as the chaplain at Georgetown University and as a “chaplain” at George Washington University both in Washington DC. As you read through my own particular experiences here, you’ll see why I put that second title in quotation marks. I’ve spoken with a number of Quakers in different yearly meetings and gatherings in my position as an employee with the William Penn House, and because campus ministry is an interest of mine I often find people saying something along the lines of:

“I really wish that someone would write about their experiences in setting these things up and why they’re important.”

This blog post is here to serve that purpose. Those of us within the Quaker tradition I’m sure have all recognized that many college campuses are places ripe for interested seekers in new religious traditions. It is always hard to approach these institutions of learning, especially if you have few personal connections within those campus communities. Even harder is reconciling the Quaker discomfort surrounding the idea of proselytizing. I won’t talk about concerns that others have raised with me because my answer is always the same. I have no interest in harassing others into joining my own religious movement, but rather I wish to provide a convenient reference for students who have never interacted with Quakers before and to provide a space for students to enjoy worship in the Quaker tradition. I am a reference first and a friend and confidant second.

I have had the lucky happenstance of living in a city that has many colleges to choose from and a large Quaker meeting that sees students exploring it as an option. In setting up both ministry programs, I sent out emails to the Friends Meeting of Washington listserv asking if any students, faculty, or administrators might have an interest in having a campus ministry group at their college. In the case of George Washington, I was lucky to find that indeed a student was interested, but sadly it took a little while for us to get connected. In that space of time, I emailed members of the administration who told me that George Washington University preferred that worship groups be students led, now you see why I put my title in quotations. I have been lucky in that the student that runs the worship there is driven, charismatic, and passionate about Quakerism. While we bounce ideas off of each other and I am there to support her, I would prefer to give her credit as she leads the group on that campus. I design fliers, show up to meeting, and develop personal relationships with people who attend our meeting, but she is really the driving force there. Georgetown is another scenario entirely.

When I sent an email to the listserv at Friends Meeting of Washington for Georgetown, a member of the campus administration replied. She helped me arrange a meeting with the chaplaincy office and after meeting with other members of the campus administration, it was determined that Georgetown was indeed interested in setting up a Quaker Chaplaincy. Because they have an official chaplaincy program, I am lucky enough to be invited to a number of campus events. Chaplains at Georgetown have a once-a-month meeting to discuss developments within the different religious communities and to share effective ways of supporting students. Georgetown has also asked that I run a scheduled weekly worship, as opposed to one with an alternating date and time. This has been helpful because the students who attend our worship know when and where it happens every week. At George Washington I was never allowed to post fliers, whereas Georgetown allows me to, something I always wanted to do so as to spare the student leader the hours of work.

When I first started, I would usually just set up a half hour long service of silent waiting worship. I found that students usually only gave messages after they had seen me give them. It didn’t particularly lend itself to growing interest or engaging students. After starting at Georgetown, I tried doing worship sharing with a query among the group of students. The query that first night was:
"Do I treat conflict as an opportunity for growth, and address it with careful attention? Do I seek to recognize and respect the Divine in those with whom I have a basic disagreement? Do I look for ways to reaffirm in action and attitude my love for the one with whom I am in conflict? In what ways might I seek to do that?"
It really sparked some engaging discussion and allowed for us to develop a stronger bond. Mixing worship sharing and regular worship into our monthly schedule really helped, and I can only strongly recommend that it be considered for introducing new folks to Quaker process and tradition.  

Among many Yearly Meetings, there has been a growing concern over an aging membership. I feel that campus ministry is one of many opportunities presented to us for growing Quaker communities. While it is up to each individual to decide whether Quakerism is for them, it is up to us as Quakers to get out of our meeting houses and do what we can to make seeking Quakerism easier for those who might wish to explore it. If we are unable to provide easy and convenient means for others to explore what we offer, how can we expect a diverse and growing membership?

Equality, Race and Grace

I remember a few years ago on a Quaker Workcamp, we were having a conversation about the various colleges that the students on the program were considering attending. One of the young folks mentioned that he would probably go to a prestigious university because his family had a long list of graduates from that school (siblings, parents, grandparents) , even though he might not otherwise have qualified for that university. The conversation turned to the paradox of wanting to work for equality but, at the same time, being a product of and beneficiary of privilege. "Do you think I should not go to that school if I get accepted?", asked the young man. After a moment of reflection, I said that, no, you should not turn down that acceptance but to, instead, commit to trying to balance the equation when in a position of taking action. For example, I mentioned that, when buying a car, perhaps buying a slightly lower costing car, and put that extra money towards a scholarship to support someone else or, if in a position of hiring someone, rather than hiring the candidate with the best education or best suit, consider the one who journeyed the longest to get to the interview.

So as I was recently attending a church service at National Community Church, I listened to Dr. David Anderson giving a powerful sermon about "Gracism" (as the spirit-led counterbalance to "Racism" that he defines as "to think, feel, or act negatively of others because of color, class or culture"). One of his seven points to practicing gracism is "I will consider you." His example was to recognize that a car dealer may offer a better deal to a man than a woman, and we act with grace by doing what we can to correct this by sharing with you my benefits. I think it is essentially what I was trying to articulate on that Workcamp. I also think it would be a great lesson for so many of the private schools we work with - rather than shame privilege, have the conversation about how we can effectively share that privilege with those who do not have it. As Dr. Anderson has listed it, this is identified as "Having Equal Concern".

It is sermons like this that I find amazingly inspirational and challenging. Even though I hear these kinds of sermons at places like NCC, they are what lead me to Quakerism. To practice Gracism is to see that of God in all and truly live that out. Of course, as a gay man, knowing that the founder of this church has been, to put it mildly, less than affirming about gay marriage (sending out the double-message that being gay is a sin, but we are called to be loving, as if my higher purpose is to be straight, as he did on the Kojo Nnamdi Show last year), and "sexual identity and orientation" is glaringly missing in the definition of racism, I cannot go all in here. I think the silence about sexual orientation can perhaps do much harm by continuing exclude truly all people. But having said that, I know that if places like NCC want to truly practice gracism, I'm in for that, knowing that I can still let my life speak and find true joy in the relationships I have formed there, and in that, find more ways to bring that grace to what we strive to bring in our William Penn Quaker Workcamps. Sometimes, being open with the messiness (or 'living in the tension', as if often expressed) really seems to be where life happens.

"Faith in the Process is more important than the Outcome"?

Keith Barrett X with his wife, Veronica
and kids Prophetshabazz Muhammad,
Jesus, Goddess, and Chief, saying
"One God" for the camera.

As I sat in Meeting for Worship on a spectacular fall day, I listened to a few messages enamored with Quaker process. These messages included that decisions made without Quaker process were not as significant as those done through process and, from one message, faith in the process is more important than the outcomes. Sitting among a 100% white congregation on the day between the Million Man March and Columbus Day, two events that are stark reminders of enslavement, suppression and discrimination, I wondered about these messages. I sometimes think that Friends can be too enamored with the process, especially as it is so often practiced among "like-minded" people. I think that the gift of Quaker process is when it is practiced out in the world, among people of very different opinions, beliefs, cultures and priorities. This is when true peace happens. And this is also when faith in another Quaker sentiment is vital: going "as Way opens".

Keith with Prophetshabazz

It was with all this rattling around in my brain that I walked into William Penn House the next day with a sense that the weekend had been a bit chaotic. Some of the chaos was because a family from Montana was sent to us on Saturday by a local TV reporter with an understanding that a local church was going to cover their lodging fees. As I started to try and make the connections between the various parts of this story, I met a remarkable family. Keith Barrett X and his wife, Veronica Lynn Illig-Barrett X, had journeyed 60 hours from the Flathead Reservation in Montana to be a part of the Million Man March. Keith told me that he was unable to attend the first one 20 years ago because he was in prison, but pledged to make the next one. Despite the economics, he made it with a bit of faith in the goodness of people - going "As Way Opens". Keith shared with me his story - growing up in Beaver Falls, PA, Los Angeles and Phoenix, the son of a man in the music industry (who worked with the likes of Barry White). At 18, breaking out on his own, he moved to Washington State. He bounced around between WA and AZ until 11 years ago when he met his wife. Keith is part Blackfoot, and his wife is Flathead, so with this lineage, they made their way to Montana.

Barrett X's garden

As Keith and I talked, he spoke of his belief that good people and oppressors come in all shapes, sizes and colors, and his stay at William Penn House was an opportunity to show that to his kids. He shared that he is a member of the Nation of Islam, but believes in one God that loves all of us. He showed me pictures of the 1/2 acre community garden he put in this spring, and had his 5 year-old son tell me about the lettuce, cabbage, onions, corn and tomatoes they are growing. It was an energizing connection.

Will we actually get the fees to cover this family's lodging? We don't know yet. Is this a vital part of continuing our missional presence in the Nation's Capital? Absolutely! Do we have the means to cover this ourselves (although a special thanks does go to Sam Ford from ABC7 News for covering a portion of this)? Not yet. My deepest faith is that way will open for us to continue to do this. It was not Quaker process that brought all this together, but Quaker faith.

Prayers for, prayers with, and just praying

"Is it ok if we ask the people we are serving to pray for them?" asked the man on the other end of the line. I had been contacted to set up some service opportunities for people coming to DC on church missions on behalf of his Christian service organization. I paused. In that pause, he asked "do Quakers not do this?" I answered that my silence was not so much about the "prayer", but the "for". It was something I had not ever articulated, but had been struggling with. To pray for people based on assumptions of need because of a perceived condition, even though we did not know them (yet), did not sit easily with me. What I said was that I think it would be great to ask people to join them in prayer, but with an openness that we are praying together, and be open that the person may not want to do this.

The other day, as Pope Francis made his rounds in DC, two things struck me: As he met with John Boehner, he asked Boehner to pray for him. Boehner was floored by the gesture. Usually, in Boehner's view, a person asked the Pope for prayers. (It was with some interest that Boehner resigned the next day). Moments later, the Pope was out on the Capitol porch, asking all people for their prayers, but "if there are among you those who do not believe or cannot pray to send good wishes my way." What a statement of humility.

Over the past year, I have been an infrequent attender of The Theater Church (National Community Church), a non-denominational "rock-n-roll" church. I struggle with some of their theological message, especially when sentiments of "my God will beat your God" or "therefore, you must proclaim Jesus as your savior" show up, usually in the songs. But many of the folks I have met from this church inspire me with their actions. When I was recovering from surgery in 2014, I got calls from some of them and knew they were praying for me. But when I am with any of them, I revel in the opportunity to pray with them - it gives me hope and energy.  And as I listen to the words, I am mindful that, when I was laid low, they did not pray for me, but they prayed that I be comforted through the journey.

Quakers use the term "hold in the Light" often in a way that means the same thing, at least to me, as "say prayers for...".  When someone is clearly ailing to the point that their life circumstances are altered, such as through illness, I get it, although as someone who has been on the receiving end of these prayers, I have been uncomfortable with it. I sometimes think it would be better to pray for strength to make the world a better place, rather than for my recovery. But, more to the point, when we gather in the name of service and/or fellowship, I love the idea of taking time to pray/hold in the light/be thankful with folks. I think it comes from a place of equality - that we are all in this together, rather than suggesting that one has greater "prayer authority" over another.  Furthermore, when we might pray for the betterment of the conditions in which someone lives that are the results of generations of suppression, exploitation and genocide, might we not want to actually pray for forgiveness for living off the fruits of such actions?

These are not easy things, but I suspect that prayers/holding in the light is not meant to be easy. Increasingly, I think praying "for" is too easy, but to be in prayer - and fellowship - with people is really what it's all about.  These things should not be just about providing comfort to the discomforted, but to discomfort the comfortable. May our prayers, holding in the light, or good wishes then be about having the strength to carry on in the face of the hard work to be done.

When it comes to Service Learning, Don't Forget the Basics

You have to learn to walk before you can run. We all know that, but when it comes to the world of service, especially as it increasingly becomes a fixture in many schools and churches, we don't apply this basic principle very well. As I take time to reflect on the past year's activities and turn attention to what's next, I am mindful of this tenet as well as how often it is overlooked in service work.

People who want to make a difference in the world often want to have a deep, meaningful relationship with people "in need".  The reality is that expecting to do this for a short period of time is not only difficult but also problematic and raises ethical concerns. It can replicate patterns of abandonment that many people already experience. And when people doing service say "I know I am getting more out of this than the people I am serving", this is not a good thing - unless the follow-up statement is "I'm going to spend the rest of my life trying to correct this imbalance."

One of the ways to address this, from the outset, is to make sure that before people are sent out to do service work, they have some basic skills. These skills include listening to others as well as to their own anxieties, being patient, learning to connect with people as people, not as a group with presumed needs based on material conditions that only materialism can correct. These relationship skills are further enhanced when we learn to appreciate the inherent wisdom that all people have from their life experiences, and when we can connect at this level  - with our hearts - truly amazing this can happen. The real wonder of this work is when we realize our gift is not to fix a problem, but to simply be in fellowship, let a relationship form, and realize we serve something greater than ourselves - a more just world - when we do this well. But sometimes, when we do this work well, what can arise is the need to fix something. The question is, are service participants equipped with the skills to do this, or has room been made to learn this?

What skills am I referring to:

• hammering a nail into a piece of wood
• using a saw to cut wood
• be able to paint a wall neatly and clean a brush
• use a lawn mower
• cook a meal

These are pretty basic, but often lacking. And yet, when we are engaging with people on fixed
incomes, they can be the most essential skills we can have. Without these, often I have found that well-meaning people want to be of service but need to learn these basics. In addition, while being engaged in using these in the service, real conversations can unfold where we really come together. This does not mean that all service has to be this kind of service but, for me, not having these is akin to wanting to hear a person but not willing to listen. Furthermore, when we go out in the name of service without these skills, we can end up doing more harm than good, especially if it is a short-lived service program ("short-lived" can actually be a lengthy period of time - weeks, even months). If we think our gift is merely our presence, but we are not going to be around for long, we perpetuate cycles of abandonment while stroking our own egos. It is absolutely the wrong way to go. And if we are engaging in activities that require these skills and we don't have them, we can do messy jobs, waste materials, or even cause physical hurt.

When we know that our service is to help make a room brighter (painting), or a lawn better (mowing), we have much more realistic expectations of ourselves and our capacities. This past summer, we had two students from a DC private school who learned some of these basics (as well as how to get around on the Metro, opening up a "whole new world", as one student put it). They also affirmed for us at William Penn House that we need to be teaching these more as we require students to do service.  My hope is that, this coming year, we can work closer with groups to develop these both before they come to us or, before we go out to serve, we learn some of these.

"It's so simple"...

As spring unfolds, at William Penn House we are in the midst of connecting with the community in a new way for us. Over the past few years, starting with gleaning and then community gardens, we have connected with the urban garden movement. As with any good movement, there needs to be a strong grassroots component that is actively engaged, not simply following the call from outsiders, but transforming things from within and the ground up.  Thanks to the leadership of some of our community partners and friends, and seeing the gaps, installing raised garden beds in yards and homes throughout DC is the focus of much of the work we are engaged in this summer, utilizing Quaker Workcamp groups, volunteers and staff.

After a winter and early spring of prep work (building a space for growing seedlings of primarily collard greens and kale, pre-cutting wood for boxes and beds), last week we started going out into the community. Saturday, April 18, as hundreds of thousands trashed the National Mall  while "honoring" Earth Day, a group of 20 people joined us less than 5 miles east to slowly scale-up this fledgling garden program. It was an invaluable experience as we were able to work out some of the kinks while getting the work and word out. As our community partner RonDell Pooler said, the vision is to create a food hub in what is now a food desert; this includes the expanding community gardens under RonDell's purview and now the garden beds going into people's yards.

"It's so simple" reflected one of the participants who joined us from a church in Altoona, PA. While the work to be done is not that simple in terms of economic justice and environmental stewardship, and this work alone won't get it done, it is this kind of work that is necessary to getting it done. This kind of work is really an expression of the Quaker testimony of Simplicity. It is about simple acts (building gardens) can help build bridges between issues (such as nutrition) while building bridges of relationships. As RonDell said, it is this kind of work that can turn food deserts to food hubs, while helping overcome barriers of separation and at the same time developing opportunities (such as green job training) for sustainability.

Outside a local Friends Meeting, there is a sign asking "How does your life help to remove the causes of War?" I personally think that the focus on "war" can create blindspots to all the causes of violence of which war is merely a part of the spectrum, but I also think that this is the kind of question seasoned pacifists should be able to readily have a list of regularly-engaged actions. For me, this garden project is on that list: it's a simple act that, while addressing hunger and environment, helps to build bridges of healing, compassion and sustainability in a severely fragmented community.  Will it end wars? Probably not. Will it help us on that track? The more we can engage folks, the more likely we can say "yes."

"A Moral Call to Act" includes looking at our actions

When I first walked in the door, there was a one-slice pizza box by the front door with a piece of pizza in it. Walking further into the building, there was the expected huge pile of sheets and towels in the hall from the departing guests. There were also garbage cans filled with empty plastic water bottles, and a few stray conference give-away bags, one with full soda cans and a piece of fruit, the other with garbage, sitting on the floor. Upstairs in the guest rooms, there was more of the same, plus the half-drunk mountain dew under one bed and an apple core under another (despite guidelines of no food in the rooms). Lots of bits of garbage all over the place. Among the garbage was left-over training material for the lobbying that was about to take place. The title struck me: "A Moral Call to Act on Climate Change."

What's wrong with this picture? First of all, the consumption of vast amounts of packaged products that negatively impact climate change both in the production and disposal process. Second, this is an all-too-common phenomenon that I have seen in the lobby/advocacy/service world. Groups get hyper-focused on a target - whether it is a service project or a lobbying issue - but somehow miss the message that integrity also matters. I remember clearly, when I was more involved in HIV/AIDS work, a lobby training where we were specifically given a script and instructed not to mention any concerns about how funding was used. Then, during breaks, a substantial number of the "lobbyists" - many of whom were "consumers" of services (meaning, people living with HIV) would go on smoking breaks, and night times were filled with partying. I am not judging this, but did and still do think that it is perfectly okay to ask people who are dependent on services to perhaps try to live a bit healthier as well. It's not a demand or a requirement, but we can give voice to it. It's called "integrity". Likewise, when groups come to lobby for a better world but leave the place they have stayed in worse shape, is this not really just blame - expecting others to fix a problem that we keep creating? When we lead Quaker Workcamps to New Orleans or West Virginia, to what extent do we do the same every time we use disposable plastic?

When we use terms like "moral call", I think it is important that we do what we can to make sure the action starts with us. When we advocate and lobby for change, that is political. What we do - where we eat, what we buy, how we leave the place - is our consumption. The world is a better place when our consumerism is more closely aligned with our politics. We will never be perfect, but when we remain as disconnected or even more disconnected, and miss opportunities to practice what we preach, aren't we really just a part of the problem?

What can be learned "As Way Opens"

"I never knew that the US violated so many treaties with Indians"
"I learned that Thomas Jefferson brought over many of the invasive plants into Washington DC"
"I learned that we can get more done when we collaborate"
"I learned that gardens help to clean watersheds"
"I learned why Philip's Head screwdrivers are called that" (Thanks, google, for the assist on that one)
"I learned that when rainwater flows off my driveway down the street, it can add to pollution"
"I learned that there is a connection between hunger and violence"
"I learned that William Penn honored his agreements with the Indians, and his sons did not"
"I learned that you don't need to exert a lot of muscle to saw wood"

What do all these statements have in common? They were the comments of 4th grade students from Sidwell Friends School at the conclusion of spending 4 hours together as part of a William Penn Quaker Workcamp. 22 students and 2 teachers joined us on a wet, rainy/snowy, cold day to start what we look to be a growing collaboration that helps strengthen the fabric of the DC community while addressing issues of nutrition and environment and developing service leaders for the next generation.

The plan is to nurture service as an expression of Quakerism while giving the students an opportunity to see how all things are interconnected and how small steps are vital for the big things to happen. Specifically, our starting point was to build shelves that will be used for growing seedlings that will go out into community gardens in the spring, and to start cutting wood that will be used for container gardens in yards throughout DC. We started with a group conversation about some connections between gardens, nutrition and the environment, and how these also can be expressions of the Quaker testimonies. And then we got busy with the work for the next two hours, encouraging the students to give input to how to do things while also learning some basic but important skills critical to effective service (being able to measure, saw, connect). It all went as planned.

But it was what was not planned where some of the real learning happened, as evidenced by the comments above. Few of these were on our list of "learning objectives", but each probably has a deeper imprint and, therefore, longer staying power, because of how it came about: organically, through conversation and curiosity, as way opens, experientially. Many of the points came up as we were working together; others came up in conversations about the various posters and artwork hanging around the house.

This is what I find so wonderful about William Penn Quaker Workcamps: it is not the big things, the meeting with power and tackling the big issues. It is simply creating spaces for these "conversations that matter" to take place, always with a vision of coming together to make the world a better place. It is not what we teach, but that we create opportunities to engage, enquire, question and learn, that matter. It is exciting to see the seeds of this take place with 4th graders. It gives hope for the future, and excitement to see what takes root and grows.

"Outside the Gates": Why Diversity won't come from within

I am currently reading "Disquiet Time: Rants and Reflections on the Good Book", a collection of writings edited by Jennifer Grant and Cathleen Falsani. I know both these women through Wheaton College connections, and find their work inspiring as they reflect the growing convergence of deep faith and social liberalism.

One of the chapters, "Running from 'Healing' to Healing" by Dr. Calenthia Dowdy, is a reflection on Mark 11:17: "Is it not written, 'My house shall be called a house of prayer for all nations'? But you have made it a den of robbers." Dr. Dowdy writes about her experiences with churches and that she often found more affirmations for her talents and calling in transracial/cross-cultural ministry outside the church. She writes about how churches "loved having me in their congregation, but their objective was to change me - to heal me?- instead of recognizing that we could transform each other in community with one another." She includes a quote from Orlando Costas: "Salvation lies outside the gates of cultural, ideological, political, and socio-economical walls that surround our religious compound and shape the structures of Christendom. It is not a ticket to a privileged spot in God's universe, but rather a freedom for service." She concludes with "We are whole when we are outside the church gate, face-to-face and shoulder to shoulder with the grit and grime of a diverse humanity that, like us, is in need of Christ's healing."

As I move in Quaker circles, I often hear about desires in Friends Meetings and organizations to become more diverse. Dr. Dowdy's writing, for me, affirms that this work is not likely to happen when we-self-segregate in our congregations but out in the world. If we gloss over the word "Christ" in Dowdy's writings (at least those for whom the word does not resonate), and replace the word "Christendom" with "Quakerdom", what pearls of wisdom can Friends take from this that may help us understand why we lack diversity on our benches and pews?

Last fall, I wrote about an experience where I also felt like running - and in fact did run - from a Quaker gathering where diversity and racism was much a topic of discussion but not much of a reality among the gathered (see a blogpost about that here). It might behoove many Friends who are serious about becoming more a part of a fabric of diversity to move away from called meetings that talk about this and instead go out in the name of fellowship and service. At William Penn House, we welcome you to join us almost any day of the week with an opportunity to do this, or perhaps take a break from your Meeting for Worship and congregate with others. Sit with the discomfort of how you choose where you go, and how much race, color, politics and theology influence your decision-making. Mix it up a bit. Become a part of the healing. Isn't that a gift of Quakerism that can only take place when we venture out as Dowdy calls, "face-to-face and shoulder to shoulder with the grit and grime of a diverse humanity"? It's not going to come to us, but it is there for all to embrace.

Musings on Religion, gay rights, HIV and systemic change

I was recently having a conversation with an ethics and communications professor from a Christian college. We had been informal colleagues about a decade ago, and developed deep admiration for each other despite some differences of opinions and beliefs about gay rights. What I always admired about Ken was that he never shut down conversations. He had me speak to his classes a few times about HIV and gay rights, always being honest about his beliefs but really encouraging others to find their own way and connecting back to their own beliefs and values. It was working with people like Ken that deepened my own sense of Quakerism and the belief that there really is that of God in all. 

As we were catching up, Ken was sharing with me his university’s current healthy challenges to try and be a presence for students of the 21^st century – not just who are more open to the lesbian/gay community (I’m not sure where they are with regards to the transgender community), but also with a generation that has different sexual morality than 20 years ago – while staying true to the university’s Biblical teachings. He stated it is a good healthy discussion, but not easy as people have deeply held beliefs and ideologies, and there are also many hurts both from the past and the present that people would like to help heal.

Then we turned to my current work, especially as it relates to HIV since that was what brought us together. I told him about my on-going efforts to bring about change as best I can with the HIV/AIDS system in the era of self-testing. I related recent experiences of finally getting a prevention planning group I am a part of to talk about self-testing, and about the institutional rigidity to not acknowledge that self-testing is out there (as evidenced by the fact that few HIV organizations tell their clients about it in person or on websites despite the fact that they are readily available and 1.5 million have been sold).

Ken shook his head and said he doesn’t understand what the big deal is and what all the resistance is about.  I reflected that I suspect some of it is not that dissimilar from what he was relating with regards to the university; that there is an ideological belief about HIV testing that is deep, at one point was THE only way to engage in testing, and is not used to being questioned. This is a collectively-held belief that has been culturally indoctrinated throughout the world as evidenced by the fact that, when I post articles and opinions about HIV and self-testing that challenge the status quo, the push-backs are always the same from all over the world. While sincere, many of these push-backs (people need counseling, linkage-to-care, people will hurt themselves) are not backed up by facts. They are beliefs that are firmly held, have not been questioned or challenged until now, and do not easily adapt to modern times where testing can be done more democratically.

This has made me a bit more aware of how we can so easily embrace an ideology that we don’t even see it. When we don’t take time to appreciate the struggle to change to meet the times, and think people should just “get over it”, we do a great disservice. But when we can stay committed to each other with deep respect as we struggle to change, we will all benefit. Whether it has to do with religious beliefs and gay rights, or self-testing for HIV, the work is the same.  

"To Love and Hate Life at the Same Time"

I attended a Meeting for Worship recently at a Quaker school. The first message was given by a youth facing a serious, life-threatening medical condition. His message was powerful, but laced with humor as well. The more serious part of the message was what to do with the question of what it is like to live with a life-threatening condition. In his wisdom, he stated that it is not easy to understand this experience unless one has faced death him/herself - "to love and hate life at the same time."

For the rest of the Meeting and the rest of the day, that term "to love and hate life at the same time" flowed through me almost like fresh air. Since being told more than 20 years ago that I had perhaps 5 years to live and have greatly exceeded that expectation, my own journey has included explorations of mortality, life, soul, death and perhaps most importantly, fear of death. I have read and written much about these from academic, spiritual and experiential vantage points. I have seen lengthy theories and essays on the topic. But never have I heard it put so succinctly: "to love and hate life at the same time."

I think many of us walk around with lots of love and lots of fear which can come across as being in the vicinity of hate. People who preach against gay rights, for example, are often labeled as "haters" even though they could very well be fueled by love for their Bible, their faith and their fear that if they don't do what they can to bring rightness to the world, they too will suffer the consequences. Then we, in turn, perhaps channel some of our own hatred to them for other reasons. The point is that we spend a lot of time compartmentalizing the ways we objectify "love" and "hate" to somehow create a buffer zone of safety from dealing with the complexity of both of these emotions. Facing death, as this young man so clearly articulated, does not allow for us to compartmentalize; we are forced to confront how much we love life and how much we hate knowing that it will all come to an end someday, no matter what our circumstances are.

One of the Quaker testimonies is "Simplicity." For issues as complex as life and death, I don't know that there could be a more simple message to sum it up than to understand that our human condition is one where we have to learn to love and hate life at the same time. Trying to keep them separate only creates internal and external conditions. When we see that we can actually do both, perhaps we will all be better no matter what comes.

Mindfulness, Simplicity, Fear and Quaker Workcamps

I just finished reading the book "Mindfulness" by Harvard professor Ellen Langer.  The premise is that mindfulness is much more than a meditative state of consciousness; it is an awareness of choices, and that things have different meanings in different contexts.  One of her main themes is that we often live mindlessly, having assumptions about people, places and things because of the way we have been raised.  We can see this in the divisive nature of our culture and the assumptions we make about people with differing opinions.  We see it in the way we are led by polls and community conversations that give limited options, leading us to think these are the only options.  Her research supports that when people are actively engaged and have many options, they are more likely to stay engaged, to be optimistic, to be healthier and to even live longer.

Much of her writing is in sync with what we strive to accomplish with Washington Quaker Workcamps.  We talk often about options and opportunities, instead of problems.  We talk often about the importance of the journey, not the destination.  A guideline is that there are not mistakes, only opportunities to learn.  By walking to places, we encourage practicing mindfulness about our surroundings.  Through reflection and action, we change the context within which we see ourselves in the world.  All of this is intended to create safe spaces for participants - mostly youth - to see the world as one of opportunities to be embraced and for them to see their own gifts in embracing them.

Two common challenges we run into when planning and running Workcamps that are also reflected in Langer's work are fear and control. They usually go hand-in-hand, and the result is that they often lead to more mindlessness rather than mindfulness.  The desire to create and follow a set schedule blocks our ability to engage in what is going on in the moment.  The fear of upsetting parents can lead to limited options of service - revolving around perceived needs or around false senses of security such as only doing service that guarantees nothing bad can happen.  Not only do these limit the experiences and learning opportunities of the participants, I think they are also doing a disservice by not allowing the youth to actively look at options and make (or at least influence) decisions by engaging in the process of weighing factors such as personal hunger and personal risk.  It does not adequately prepare them to deal with these things as they head off to post-high school lives where the supervision is far less.

In 1 Peter 3: 13-22, the message is about not letting fear stop us from doing what is right, but to also have good reasoning for doing what is right.  At Washington Quaker Workcamps, we do not shy away from conversations about the role that fear and control play in guiding daily action, and how these can lead us to be negligent in our responsibilities.  A fear that a teen may hurt him/herself by climbing a ladder or using a power tool does not adequately prepare that youth for when he/she is no longer at home.  Likewise, concerns that a parent might be upset because his/her youth has to wait 2 hours for dinner while preparing food for homeless people is not a reason to avoid the important experiences and lessons about justice and privilege that are at the root of so many service programs, and a fear of being in close proximity to homeless people who may have mental illness should lead to conversations about how we make assumptions about people and things we have not experienced rather than not going to a fellowship breakfast of mostly homeless folks.

The Quaker Testimony of "Simplicity" is one of the ways to break down some of this fear and control.  "Simplicity", in this context, is in the Benedictine tradition of striving to let go of assumptions of what we have been told about other people or places so we can be open to seeing what is with our own eyes.  When we tell people that certain neighborhoods in our own town are unsafe (even though we may send them to places just as unsafe in other cities or countries), we perpetuate closed assumptions rather than open wonder. When we engage with something or place that is new to us, our eyes are open. The right thing to do is to engage, create, collaborate, and inspire curiosity, not to perpetuate fear through assumptions. It is not only right for the benefit of Quaker Workcamp participants, but it is right for bringing greater justice and peace to the world.

"They don't care about us."

These were the words spoken to me by Mr. Harold Brown, a life-long resident of New Orleans.  We were standing on the lawn of his newly-built but not finished and already falling apart house, thanks in no small part to corrupt government practices from local to national levels, to corrupt contractors, and to sleezy family members.  Mr. Brown is 68 years old, losing his vision, and has no where else to go.  Katrina wiped out his livelihood - a fish market business and 10-unit apartment building and after a few years living in Houston in a flop-house (at $75/night) and paying $10 for meals (subsidized by FEMA money that finally ran out), he returned to his house only to find everything inadequate.

The whole story is a tragic nightmare. What is haunting me, however, are the words "they don't care about us."  It is far too easy to align myself with his statement, and to point the finger at politicians and sleeze-bag, greedy contractors and family members. I am sure that, simply because I was standing with Mr. Brown on this sunny, brisk Tuesday, he would not include me in this "they."  But is this really accurate. How much do I really care? Yes, my heart aches, and my blood boils. But is that all?

I don't have easy answers to any of this. I do know that I have to be careful about simply nodding my head and saying "yes they don't care" without taking a deep look at how much I really care as demonstrated by my actions.  I can demand that "they" put more funding into programs, but money was a major part of the corruption as it wound its way through the system with little reaching the ground. I can demand that the corporate exploiters of the region (oil, mostly) clean up their act, but I too like my lights and heat. I know that I can do more to raise awareness, to call on all of us to look around us to see where we might be fooling ourselves as we align with people in these kinds of circumstances.  Even as I attended a Quaker Meeting the Sunday after returning from NOLA, I could not help but notice that, out of 100 people in attendance, the lack of economic and racial diversity is jarring. Is this a true reflection of what it means to care?

In the Book of John, Chapter 9 in the Bible, there is the story of Jesus restoring sight to a blind man.  There is a back-and-forth with the Pharisees about whether it was the blind man or his parents who were the sinners that caused the blindness, or whether Jesus had devilish powers because of his ability to restore sight. Ultimately, what Jesus reminds us is this: it is not a sin to be blind.  The sin is to claim to see.  So, while I can see Mr. Brown's point that "they don't care", I have to be careful not to overlook my own part in this.  It is a blindspot that I might take comfort in, but it is one that will blind me to seeing the hard work, personal commitments and sacrifices we must make to bring justice to these kinds of situations.  It is humbling that it takes the words of a man losing his sight for me to try and open mine.

Macro-Change Starts at the Micro-Level

Over the weekend, I was talking with a good friend about politics, justice and equality issues.  We come at things from very different angles politically and policy-wise, but we know that we want the same things in the world - less conflict, less injustice, more opportunity, more equality.  As we were talking, Mike (not his real name) kept citing data showing that many of the social programs (mostly in education - Head Start, college funding programs) are simply not producing positive outcomes.  We shared sentiments that there is too much bureaucracy and there is too much self-interest from professional organizations, lobbyists and politicians, and once programs are established, the cultural dependency often overlooks outcomes while keeping the funding going.  Mike kept referring to the fact that government-funded programs need to support programs that are proven to bring about change on the macro-level, and the simple fact is that many of our entrenched programs - many of which seemed like great ideas - are not producing the outcomes to justify their continued funding and policy control.

So much of this certainly resonates with my experiences.  I've seen first-hand a deeply-entrenched bureaucracy dictating policy and operating a rigid paradigm in AIDS services.  What I realized, as we were talking and finding that we were not in sync, is that we were talking at different elevations.  Mike stated that new ideas can get funded to ramp up if they are proven to work on a small scale.  While I know this is true, to be able to even get these preliminary outcomes requires a level of funding and administration that small organizations don't have.  Effectively, to implement totally new ideas requires a funding that few innovators have.

“Yesterday I was clever, so I wanted to change the world. Today I am wise, so I am changing myself.” - Rumi

More importantly, though, was recognizing that, while we absolutely need macro-level change - in education, in energy, in environment, in jobs and income - this change does not start at the macro-level.  It starts at the micro-level - with individuals, small groups.  You. Me.  It is at the macro-level that we can measure the success of the effort, but it is the individual action that the change really takes root.  Taking two issues of the day as examples:

• Energy: As the Keystone Pipeline seems to be nearing approval the voices start to rise up against it, out of concern for the environment as well as the land rights of the Lakota.  But just as I saw after the BP blowout in the Gulf a few years ago, the focus is on the high-level of national and international policy.  To date, I have yet to see a call for less consumption to go along with this, and our consumption is just as complicit in the problem as is greed of the stockholders.  I remember the days when we were encouraged to lower our thermostats, and to "drive 55" not for safety but for fuel efficiency.  These days, the call for sacrifice in combination with better policy seems lacking. 
• HIV/AIDS: Bank of America and U2 join forces during the Super Bowl evening to give $1 for every free download of U2's latest song (although, if you look at the fine-print, there was a $2 million - a drop in the bucket for BofA and certainly provides great publicity and revenue for both BofA and U2).  The people downloading a free song were feeling good that they were making a difference - by getting something for free.  All in the name of ending AIDS.  Except for one thing.  Not one message to encourage people to know their status, to act or think different. What a lost opportunity.  It is rare that you would have such a wide audience and could really change the message or at least challenge the status quo - raise the conversation, make people think.  Kudos to Coca Cola for doing just that with their ad.  

In both these cases, it may be true that we need more funding and/or better policy that considers the potential environmental impact.  But no matter what the policy - the macro-level work - it is ultimately going to take each one of us to DO differently as individuals on a mass scale - that will bring the change to that macro-level.

-Brad Ogilvie

"Open and Affirming" is not the same as "Reconciliation and Forgiveness"

A week before Thanksgiving, at William Penn House, we hosted Danish Quaker K. Renato Lings who talked about his book "Love Lost in Translation" and his personal faith journey to reconciliation as a gay Christian.  It was a very enlightening presentation.  What I found most interesting was to hear Renato talk about the importance of finding comfort in his faith in order for him to really deal with his depression.  From a clinical standpoint, what I was hearing was that he had been traumatized growing up in a faith tradition that condemned him for being gay.  He subsequently spent many years avoiding his Christian faith, but was out to the world as a gay man.  Despite all the acceptance he felt (including among Quakers with whom he worked and worshiped), he still exhibited the lingering effects of the trauma (avoidance and other signs of depression).  It was not until he started to confront the "abuser" (The Bible as it had been used against him), and did extensive research into interpretations, meanings and historical factors, that he realized he could find a way to be both gay and Christian.  He no longer had to go through life being afraid to face the very thing that had caused him so much hurt.  (Side note: Andrew Marin has done some great work on the importance of forgiveness and reconciliation, including showing up at Pride parades with "I'm Sorry" signs.  See more here.)  
As the conversation unfolded, we discussed the importance of reconciliation and acceptance, but also the importance of recognizing that overcoming the traumatic experience that many gays and lesbians takes more than being "open and affirming."  To fully overcome the impact and control that traumatic experiences can have on people, it is important to work through the fear that leads to avoidance as this can habituate into a paralyzing way of life.
Many Quaker congregations consider themselves welcoming places for the glbt community, which is fantastic.  What we discussed at this evening event, however, was that to be welcoming without fully appreciating the depths of hurt that religious rejection can leave with people has the potential to cause inadvertent harm, and we do this by not better understanding the Bible.  Our own avoidance or lack of comfort with the Bible - the agent used for perpetrating the abuse - can leave us ill-equipped for being the reconciling place we would hope to be for those who have experienced the trauma.  This is where we might actually do more harm - by promising acceptance but missing the mark by not appreciating the depth of the harm.  Renato Lings' book might be a good place to start the journey to greater healing for so many.

Bonhoeffer, Community and Quakerism

"Community" is one of the oft-cited Quaker testimonies.  This morning, in my daily Bonhoeffer ritual,  the writing was about community.  While I often try to adapt some of the language of Bonhoeffer to a less Trinitarian Christian message, this one is a stretch, so I'm going to leave it as is, relying that "Christ" for me means an unabiding love for and deep faith in the goodness of all, and the call to live in grace.  So, here goes:

"Because Christ stands between me and another, I must not long for unmediated community with that person.  As only Christ was able to speak to me in such a way that I was helped, so others too can only be helped by Christ alone.  However, this means that I must release others from my attempts to control, coerce, and dominate them with my love.  In their freedom from me, other persons want to be loved for who they are, as those for whom Christ became a human being, died, and rose again as those for whom Christ won the forgiveness of sins and prepared eternal live.  Because Christ has long since acted decisively for other Christians, before I could begin to act, I must allow them the freedom to be Christ's.  They should encounter me only as the persons they already are in Christ.  This is the meaning of the claim that we can encounter others only through the mediation of Christ.  Self-centered love constructs its own image of other persons, about what they are and what they should become.  It takes the life of the other person into its own hands.  Spiritual love recognizes the true image of the other person as seen from the perspective of Jesus Christ.  It is the image Jesus Christ has formed and wants to form in all people."  - from Life Together, pg. 43-44

So much of this resonates for what has long attracted me to Quakerism - the belief that there is that of God/innate goodness in all people.  It also reminds me of the Benedictine "radical hospitality" and the Franciscan spirit to sow love where there is anger and to seek to understand rather than be understood, both of which are vital aspects to my own faith and practice - or at least to my faith, and hopefully a part of my practice.

To live with this faith, we must challenge ourselves to resist our impulses to coerce others to see the folly of their ways - political, religious, social - but to instead believe that when we invite others into our lives as they are, and vice-versa allow ourselves to be as we are, we are living our faith.  I have certainly been on the receiving end of this, especially when I have been welcomed in places I did not expect - such as when I lived in the more conservative Wheaton, IL, or when I go to places like the Southeast White House where I am frequently in the minority with regards to my faith (more universalist than Trinitarian), stance on social issues, and sexual orientation.  It is times like this that I really get what Bonhoeffer is talking about here.  I only hope that I can be that I can always be better at doing this for others.

Reflections with Bonhoeffer

Sometime in the last year, I started reading a daily reflection with writings of Dietrich Bonhoeffer.  I had read portions of some of his books, but he is very heavy and I find it hard to digest too much at one time, so this book has been great.  Just small but often heavy doses once a day.  What I have also found helpful, as I read some of his writings, is that since I do not consider myself a trinitarian Christian as he clearly is, that by secularizing his language I find his message more accessible.  The basic translation I find helpful  - and I hope still keep with the spirit of his writings, given his messages of inclusiveness, love and humility - is to consider "Christian communities" as "loving communities", "Christian service" as "loving service", and so on.  My belief is that God is a loving God, and our calling is to be loving people towards all, so it works for me.

Periodically, in this blog space, I'll be putting a writing of his that moves me and seems applicable to the work of William Penn House and Quaker Workcamps.  Yesterday's message was one such message, especially as it was a day that we were doing a few hours of service with students from Baltimore Friends School.

"The basis of all pneumatic, or spiritual reality, is the clear call to love and to live with grace.  At the foundation of all psychic, or emotional reality are the dark, impenetrable urges and desires of the human soul - the ego. The basis of spiritual community is truth; the basis of emotional community is desire.  The essence of spiritual community is light. For 'God is light, and in God there is no darkness at all' (1 John 1:5); and 'if we walk in the light as he himself is in the light, we have fellowship with one another' (1 John 1:7).  The essence of emotional, self-centered community is darkness, 'for it is from within, from the human heart, that egotistical intentions come' (Mark 7:21).  It is the deep night that spreads over the sources of all human activity, over even all noble and devout impulses.  Spiritual community is the community of those who are called by love and grace; emotional community is the community of pious souls.  The bright love of service, fellowship and grace lives in the spiritual community; the dark love of pious-impious urges burns in the self-centered community.  In the former, there is ordered, loving service; in the latter, disordered desire for pleasure.  In the former, there is humble submission one to another; in the latter, humble, yet haughty subjection of other people to one's own desire."