The following is a reflection written by Amate Alum Christina Gebel. Tina volunteered with Amate House in 2007-08, and 2008-09.
Nowadays, my life looks much different than my years in Amate.
When interviewing for my current job, my supervisor asked if I thought I’d miss doing direct service every day. I knew I would. I miss my students and having lots of silly or dramatic stories to tell my roommates when I come home each day. I miss my girls’ insightful questions, and I even miss pulling out the “teacher look,” although my bedroom mirror is a good place to remind myself I still got it, followed now by a smug smirk.
When I switched to working the workings of a nonprofit, I traded my grade book for Microsoft Outlook and began to settle into my new role. No longer would I be face-to-face with those I’m serving. Instead, I am in a cubicle (and appreciate Office Space that much more). However, I now fully realize my job is still worthwhile.
This really solidified after given the recent invitation to participate in an evening of direct service with the Catholic Volunteer Network alumni. I thought it would be a good way to get back to direct service, if only for an evening, and an even better way to honor Martin Luther King Jr.
Brimming with the desire to get my hands in service again, I took my place behind the food serving line at the Marquard Center and awaited the homeless men and women who would come through. However, instead of coming through the line, I learned that all the men and women eating were served at the tables. This is a great idea, but I’ll admit, I was a little bummed. I had many romantic thoughts of having conversations with each person in line and quenching that thirst for interaction. But, it ended up being just me, the peas, and the carrots (literally).
Now, I suppose I could have asked to switch jobs, but I decided to just go with the flow. If anything, it gave me time to observe. And observe I did. One man all but licked his plate clean in probably less than 3 minutes. Another prayed very loudly during group prayer, stared right at me afterward, and said, “There is a God. I’m serious. There really is.” Some came with bags. Not many people talked, just ate. One man got angry when another took his seat. Another man shared his food with a stranger. Some people were cheerful, others looked sad. And, unfortunately, not many were fans of peas (neither am I).
As I drove home that night, I thought about everything I had observed. I was touched by the man who had so little yet had little doubt there was a God. I thought about my job of serving peas and carrots. It seemed all of this taking the backseat was supposed to teach me some lesson. When I reflected on the work of Dr. King, I began to understand.
MLK was not always in direct service. In fact, he spent a good amount of time in jail. How frustrating would that be? All of this action is going on and you are literally locked up, with only anecdotes from visitors on the outside.
But MLK didn’t sit idle. He wrote. In fact, he wrote some of his best work, like “Letter From a Birmingham Jail.” Being a writer myself, and doing a lot of writing at my job, I can appreciate this letter. In it, he says, “In any nonviolent campaign there are four basic steps: collection of the facts to determine whether injustices exist, negotiation, self-purification, and direct action.” When I reread the letter in preparation for writing this blog, I was shocked to see direct action as only one of the four components. Much of MLK’s legacy that we play back year after year focuses on the last part: direct action; however, he had a much larger vision of a campaign. He realized that not only action but also assessment, diplomacy, and even self-readiness were all components of success. No job was too small. In fact, he begins the letter talking about his secretaries, which required a posthumous fist-bump moment between me and him.
When speaking to alumni after the meal, Mark Laboe spoke of the now-viral YouTube video “Why I love Jesus and hate religion.” Mark commented that, he believes, if we think we can do “this” (i.e. life or the Christian life) alone, we aren’t thinking big enough. To really do it, we need people – a community. And nowhere is this better stressed than the letter to the Corinthians. You know it: we are many parts but we are all one body. We can’t have too many hands, and the liver being all cooped up inside, apparently, does not get jealous of the eye. In order to function, all are needed, each in its respective place.
So, while I thought I might write about a moving conversation or a dramatic moment, what I want to say, when all is said and done, is that I understand my job that much more. What’s more, I understand the necessity of each person and each roll in order to successfully serve. Sure, I certainly will go on seeking out direct service opportunities. But whether we seek a successful nonprofit, civil rights movement, or functional body, each part is equally diverse and equally essential.
No comments:
Post a Comment