summoned

The past few weeks have involved a little bit of church hopping. Being in a new place means finding your place, and part of that journey for me involves finding a church that doesn't make me feel awkward and unfamiliar. The experience of worship is different for every person, so finding worship that feels like home can be tricky. This morning I biked down to St. Elizabeth of Hungary with a roommate to try out the Mass there. My prayer mom is a parishioner there as are the directors of CVV. Without going into detail, I will say that I liked it a lot and would be very happy going back.

One of the songs that they chose for Mass today was "The Summons." This song was a big part of my life that last time that I lived in community when I was a sophomore at DePaul. Every time I hear it, the lyrics challenge me. I can't just listen to it and sing my way through it without pausing at various parts of the song to contemplate a little bit. The song is made up almost entirely of questions, and honestly answering each of those questions is not always easy. I thought I might share a few of my reflections on this here.

"Will you risk the hostile stare should your life attract or scare?"

I keep hearing that what I am doing is 'counter-cultural.' That is a nice way of saying 'a lot of people are going to think that what you're doing (ie CVV) is weird.' Which is not always the easiest thing to deal with. Even when I started living in community back at DePaul, my family had a lot of questions about what I was doing. The word 'commune' was thrown around more than once, and even more common than that was 'convent.' Clearly, having faith-based convictions means that you are going into religious life and you automatically fit into a stereotype of someone who never does anything wrong because they have an active faith life. There are times when I wonder whether or not there are people who would be more comfortable if I actually did fit their stereotypes instead of what it actually means for me. Following my faith into a year of 'service' in Denver is not any indication that I have anything figured out and that I am 100% steadfast in my faith or that I have the answers when it comes to questions of injustice. If anything, I am just filled with more and more questions. Why are so many people hungry? Why am I not more uncomfortable with that fact that my lifestyle is not challenging? Why is it so many people don't have the resources to even pay rent? Why is it so easy for me to just judge al of the clients I meet at work? I would swear that so many of those questions just sit on top of my skin and are visible to everyone around me. I can't pretend that this isn't the way my life works. I have been at a bar or some other social place and been asked what I do. "A year of volunteering, kind of like AmeriCorps' gets the least reaction. "Living in community where everyone is involved in direct service and the program has a strong formation component" gets odd reactions and prevents people from inquiring further, most of the time. It's not so much a hostile stare as it is an awkward stare. Mentioning going to school for my MDiv? Instant conversation killer. Luckily, I am not too concerned with making friends in bars. I have been beyond blessed with the people in my life. My family is supportive (not always on the same page, but supportive). My friends and my boyfriend are so good to me it's unreal. And I am coming home to a community every night that may be in conflict, but we are all in the same boat. But leaving my community or those around me who know me and aren't afraid of me and my choices is always a scary reality. I am always risking a hostile stare. I have received them on several occasions. But I keep making my choices based on faith, as best as I can. I still make poor choices, but I am not going to head in a new direction any time soon. All the hostile stares in the world don't make up for the fact that I keep getting to come home to people who love me and my choices.

"Will you kiss the leper clean and do such as this unseen?"

This is definitely a part that I struggle a little bit more with. Lepers are the one of the ultimate marginalized communities. They were put on entire islands so that no one else had to be near them. I have heard the word 'marginalized' a lot. Layman's terms: groups people that the are generally ignored, judged, and dismissed.

To kiss someone clean? How beautifully intimate an image. It is the intimate interactions that have the greatest power to heal and to convey love and compassion. To draw near to another person who is shunned by so many others? Lovely. Human beings are made for relationships, designed to touch and be touched. If you are a marginalized person, how often are you hugged, let alone even touched briefly, say on the arm? How many physical touches are received by marginalized people that are not in violence? Touch is so powerful. It can take or give life. It can both comfort and wound. The entire surface of our bodies are intended to facilitate touch. And yet so often so choose to stay in our own bubbles, and not share kind touches.

This all presents a great struggle to me because I generally speaking do not have issues in expressing physical affection. Anyone who knows me well knows that going for long periods of time (say, 10 minutes?) without some kind of physical affection makes me uncomfortable. My discomfort with all of this is: How do you take an action such as reaching out with physical compassion, and when its met by the great discomfort of others, not turn it into a situation of receiving some kind of affirmation for it? How does one continue in 'service' and not ever have a moment of wanting some kind of attention for it? It's not even necessarily an active thought. "Oh, if I do ___________ people will think I'm a really good person." I suppose it may be more so asking the question "Does doing this really make me a good person?" and looking for someone else to provide an affirmative response. Not necessarily a question that is always asked out loud. There is still often a need that I have to be affirmed in my choices and my decisions. A need to be seen, to some degree. How much more would my decisions mean if no one knew about them? If I proceeded silently in my choices? What is the real reason for sharing my life out loud, and what is the real motivation when I stay silent? I don't believe I am some kind of terrible person. But I have to be honest and admit that if asked to touch a leper, let alone kiss them, I have absolutely no idea what I would do.