The Promise of Living

THE NASHVILLE EPIPHANY

2008-01-06T19:51:00.000-06:00

January 6, 2008

Epiphany.

On New Year’s Day 2008, I worked. It was a frigidly cold day in Nashville, and the Campus’ day room was packed to the brim with people. So, I decided to go outside to make sure everything was alright out there. I leaned against the cold railing on the ramp that leads to the door and talked to some of the guys who were there, exchanging “happy new year” greetings. They asked whether my parents and sister made it back to Indiana alright after their visit over Christmas. When they moved on, another man came up to me, who I’ll call LP. He came to us about a year ago now, and has been a positive presence in our community. He attends all the classes, is a mainstay at “Sanctuary,” which is the weekly devotional service that I coordinate, and always has a kind greeting for all of us on the staff. I knew that he had been in prison before he came to us homeless, but didn’t know a lot of his story. After a month or so of being with us, I remember the day he came up to me and Maggie at the support desk and thanked us, with tears in his eyes, for being the first people that had been nice to him in a really really long time. It was one of those moments that keep us going, and reminds us why we do what we do, even when it gets tough and doesn’t feel too important. My New Year’s Day conversation with LP was another one of those moments. He told me about the evening they released him from prison after eight years, with a small mesh bag that contained all of his earthly possessions.

LP, in his former life, had owned his own construction company. He had a home, a wife, and kids. He coached his son’s little league team. One night, he came home to discover that his best friend was having an affair with his wife. In anger, LP broke in to his mother-in-law’s home and stole pictures of his kids. At his lawyer’s urging, he pled guilty to the crime or burglary, which because of the plea should have meant just a few years in prison. However, the judge imposed the maximum sentence of fifteen years. Being well-behaved in prison, LP served half of that sentence, and he was released into a freezing cold January night in Mississippi. Having severed all ties with friends and family, he had nowhere to go. He decided to ride the train to wherever it would take him. He hopped onto a flat car—not even a box car that was enclosed—and began to ride into the night.

The train was moving about 50 miles per hour, and being exposed to the freezing air brought about misery. Suddenly, the train came to a complete stop in the middle of a cow pasture. He thought he was probably in Kentucky or North Carolina by this time, since the weather had become so cold. He cried out to God in desperation. He even asked God to take his life so the suffering could end. The train began to move again, making the cold feel worse. He started to feel a warmness come over his body, which he knew was a sign that he was literally freezing to death. LP was trying to come up with a plan to throw himself under the train because he felt that there was nothing to live for and the cold was too intense. Just then he looked up and saw a light. As the train moved closer, he was able to see that it was a billboard for Channel 2, Nashville’s ABC affiliate. LP realized that he must not be in North Carolina or Kentucky after all, but in Tennessee, and close to the state’s capital. He decided that he would jump from the train and walk to the city the next morning. He leapt from the train, and hit the ground, rolling about fifty feet. He sat up, surprised to see some people around. Realizing that he wasn’t just outside Nashville, but actually just outside its downtown, LP went up to the people he saw to ask where exactly he was. A man told him that he was in the parking lot of the Nashville Rescue Mission.

Not believing that he had just jumped off a train at a seemingly random point, and rolled directly into the parking lot of a homeless shelter, the very kind of place he probably needed to be, LP walked around a little to get his bearings. He found another homeless man, who took him to the McDonald’s at 12th and Broadway to warm up with a cup of coffee. The man explained to LP what he needed to do, and where the best places to eat, sleep, and receive other needed services were. The man told LP that the place for him was a called Room In The Inn. LP came to Room In The Inn, and its Campus for Human Development that morning, and has been there ever since.

The thing that stuck with me from my New Year’s Day conversation with LP was his saying, “here I was, ready to let a train cut me into pieces because my life was so bad, and God literally throws me into the parking lot of a rescue mission, then takes me to coffee with a guy who told me about the greatest thing I’ve ever had: people who love me just the way I am.” He explained that he first met God in prison, but then found him in the flesh at Room In The Inn.

I told LP a little bit about how I got to the point where I was that morning: standing, listening to him on a ramp that led into a homeless shelter, with piles of bags around us, and pigeons overrunning the parking lot, eating the scraps left by those who had been eating their lunches outside. We had to put my story on pause a few times because of the deafening whistle of the train that runs along the same tracks by which he came to us. I told him about my journey, the original destination of which was becoming a professional musician. I told him about the time when I didn’t enjoy music anymore, and left school for a while. I added in the part where I answered the phone 150 times every day for a year and a half at Columbia House. I told him how I got fired from that job and went back to school at ISU with a major that my mom suggested based on the fact that I liked watching The West Wing. I told him about how I found joy in music again as a music director and organist at Trinity Lutheran Church, where I decided to work after saying I would only be a substitute for the four weeks of Advent, while finishing up school and preparing for seminary after that. I explained to LP how somewhere along the line I decided to do something else for a year between college and seminary and decided to apply for the Young Adult Volunteer program. I told him about the phone calls and discernment process that led me to Nashville. I explained that it was me telling Susan Brantley that I didn’t want to work with children that led me to the place I was at that very moment.

My story wasn’t quite as dramatic as LP’s, but in the end, we had each reached the same destination, albeit for different purposes, and shared a bit of humanity in that moment. And a little divinity too. God found a way to guide us not to the places our carefully laid plans would have taken us, but instead to a place where we would meet God in person.

As I look back, the Nashville Epiphany Project took me to many of those places. One of those places was a little green house called “The Toolshed” where four wise people spent the nights while they were in a search of Emmanuel in this world. Chasie, Patrick and Tara provided the community I needed for a year, and friendships that will last well beyond. Second Presbyterian Church provided the hospitality needed to sustain us on our journey, and the spiritual foundation for our quest. Vocational discernment with Janet Salyer and the steady guidance of Susan, our site coordinator, gave us the tools we needed to ask God where we should seek his presence next.

I did, along with my companions on this journey, find the living Christ in this world. We found him among the poorest of the poor in our communities. He was there in children who have never met their fathers, and who don’t know what a loving family is like. He was there in adults who wanted better things for their lives than the violent and fearful streets. He was there in those who are among the most despised in our society, in immigrants who speak and act differently than the ways to which we are accustomed. We found him there amongst the filth, the sickness, the fights, the wars, and the poverty of human existence.

Like LP, I had been introduced to God many times. In this year, I found God in places I never imagined I would go, and met the living Lord in the flesh. I found in those epiphanies, a love that loves me just the way I am. A love that frees us and gives us light, shining like a star—or even a billboard—breaking the fearful darkness of this world, and guiding us on our long and winding journey home.

Amen.

Thanks for reading this chapter of my journey.

The star recently painted on the inside of the support area at the Campus for Human Development, over the desk where hundreds of people come every night seeking Room In The Inn.

Re-entry

2007-08-19T20:46:00.000-05:00

One of my favorite things about air travel is people watching. There are always interesting people in airports and on airplanes. On this weekend’s trip to Ghost Ranch in New Mexico, I flew with a guy dressed in some kind of martial arts outfit. There was a guy named Brian Moles—we were checking in at the same time. It was the first time either of us had met someone named Moles outside of our families. It was especially funny that he had the same name as my brother. There were Boy Scouts returning from their ranch in New Mexico, and there were a load of middle class families on late summer vacations. Even though everyone at the airport is there for a different reason, the thing that grabbed me is that we were all in the same boat—or maybe the same airplane—so to speak. We all get in that metal tube and pretend to be brave when we think about the fact that we’re rocketing through the air at 30,000 feet. We’re all at the mercy of the pilot, and what happens to one of us happens to us all.

That plane imagery captures what was good about spending four days with about 35 other national Young Adult Volunteers in the high deserts of Northern New Mexico. Those of us who were there had been in the same boat. We all were finishing a year that had taken us to places outside our comfort zones, and confronted us with the suffering that takes place in this world every minute of every day.

The best part of this retreat was that it was less programmed than our orientation was. We had lots of free time to get to know one another better and hear stories from the year. Much of the time that was spent on activities was spent in silent personal reflection or sharing in small groups. On Saturday night, each site group was responsible for putting together a skit or presentation that would convey something about its year. Many YAVs had similar experiences to ours, many were different. Through these presentations and lots of time for more informal story telling, including at our bonfire on the last night, we learned a lot about what each of us had been through.

The Atlanta group acted out something that is pretty much my whole life—the struggle and vicious cycle of obtaining important personal documents for homeless people. (You need a birth certificate to get an ID, an ID to get a Social Security card, an ID to get a birth certificate…) The Tucson, Miami, and Gulf Coast groups, which were the largest, told funny stories from the year. The Tucson site’s housing is required to be environmentally friendly to the point of letting termites eat an entire wall off the house. In Nashville, we lived in one of the smallest houses, but it was one of the nicest and in the nicest neighborhood. From what we could tell, despite the tighter than ordinary living conditions, our group had the least amount of conflict. Jody, one of two YAVs in Alaska this year, who only saw her counterpart three times all year, told about moving every month and the time when there was 300 inches of snow. I am astounded that she, like about half of the YAVs at the retreat, has chosen to stay at her site after her year of service. Those who aren’t staying are starting theological education or other graduate programs and a few are starting jobs.

The end of term retreat, sometimes called “re-entry,” was about providing those of us who had been through the experience of a lifetime a chance to take some time apart from the world in the time between our experience as volunteers and our re-entry into the world as employees or students. As Tara and I got off the plane onto the runway in Nashville, I remember we said, “We’re home.” It did feel more like home to set foot back in Tennessee than I had anticipated. The re-entry process will continue for a while, I’m sure, and it will take a lot of open space to process everything that happened this year and to understand what it meant. For four beautiful (and cool) days in New Mexico with fellow travelers on the journey of service, though, thanks be to God.

* * * * * * * * * *

Here's the poem that Tara and I wrote for our presentation to the group on Saturday night...

This is a follow-up to our poem from September,
It was so good, we're sure that you remember.

Nashville was great, that's why three of us are staying,
This time, though, for jobs that are paying.

Our community went shopping for an engagement ring,
So Patrick's getting married, that's why he fled the scene.

Overall, we had an excellent year.
Want a few specifics? Just lend us an ear.

Chasie spent her days at the Martha O'Bryan Center.
For kids and single moms, she became a mentor.

Jeff broke up fights and busted crack deals.
He also did his best to serve delicious meals.

Patrick worked with kids, at times they misbehaved.
When he helped them win the science fair, about his skill they raved.

Tara worked with immigrants as they adjusted to this nation.
She helped them buy houses in their process of integration.

We did our best to live simply in Green Hills,
Though living in one of Tennessee's richest zip codes certainly had its thrills.

We went on retreats to discern our vocation.
It was nice to get away to a different location.

Went as a group to Louisville in January.
There we saw Eleanor and Mary.

We celebrated with Second Pres. at its new building's dedication,
From doing justice and mission its members never vacation.

To think of anything bad to say, we'd have to scratch our heads
Except for the comfort level of Jeff and Patrick’s bunk bed.

* * * * * * * * *

Well, it’s now been almost three weeks since NEP ended. Brian and I have moved into our new apartment in the West End/Vanderbilt area near Centennial Park, and I went back to work at the Campus on Wednesday. It was really great to get back into the swing of things. The only person who might be looking more forward to my first pay day than I am is Brian, since I’ve been mooching off his resources since we’ve been here. We’ve got things pretty well settled in the apartment and had our first guests over the weekend. Today was the first Sunday back at Second. It was Genesis Sunday, which is the same thing as Rally Day, and I was in a skit for the Outreach Committee, promoting volunteering with Room In The Inn. We parodied “24” and made Jack Bauer into a super-volunteer.

* * * * * * * * * *

I have one more blog post in me, which will be coming at some point soon—a final reflection on this year.

NO LONGER STRANGERS

2007-08-01T22:40:00.000-05:00

As I was driving to work a few days ago, heading into the Music Row roundabout, I saw someone waving at me from a bench on the side of the road. It was Richard F., (see “The Campus, Day 1”) and he was smiling and waving at me while sitting next to a shopping cart full of his earthly belongings. It has become commonplace for me to have homeless people waving at me when they see my car around town, and I can’t go downtown without seeing lots of people I know. My friends and family laugh while we’re driving around and I say, “oh, there’s Ken,” and “that guy goes to my internet class,” or “you don’t want to cross that guy the wrong way.”

My roommates and I have been reflecting a lot recently about what it’s like to be on the “other side” of mission trips—being the ones receiving the benefits of church youth groups on their week-long trips to save the world, instead of being a part of those groups. Patrick laughed about the different groups of youth he had a Preston Taylor every week all summer, and how they’d all get sad and cry on the last day even though the kids would probably not remember who they were the next week. I experienced it when I went and gave thanks on behalf of the Campus to a group of youth here on a mission week, and as they all stampeded me to give me a hug and get their pictures taken with me, I was feeling bad that I couldn’t remember most of their names. We’ve laughed about how we re-do many of the work projects that they do because of their lack of professional skill. But that’s not the point.

An old way of seeing mission work might involve a missionary who brings something and gives it to those who are on the receiving end. The model that more appropriately describes the experience I had this year is mutual mission. Lines between those who serve and those who are being served often blur and roles become reversed. The mission God calls us to is not in hammers and nails, and plates of food or in sermons or any of that. It’s found in the relationships we develop while we serve one another. It’s in the love of one another that results from our love of God. That’s why kids cry at the end of mission trips and why I cried this morning when Patrick and Sarah headed off for Texas. We find this love by walking a mile in the shoes of our neighbor.

For the last three hundred thirty-three days, I have been humbled by the chance to walk alongside the people at the Campus for Human Development. There have been times when the walking alongside seems more like tripping over rocks, running behind to catch up, and walking in front, dragging people along. Though the walk might not be perfect, the opportunity to develop relationships with those who are the poorest of the poor in so many ways, but who often are so rich in faith, good humor and kindness.

I am thankful for the ways that mutual service has been practiced this year. When Ray, who would never speak until spoken to, came up to the desk to tell me that one of my tires was getting low on air, he was serving me. June, a staff member who was a participant at the Campus at one time, served Ray by trimming his beard, which has become the start of a dramatic change in his personality and his seeking housing on his own initiative. When after someone was particularly verbally abusive to me, I was served by the participants who came up to me to make sure I was okay. My collection of little gifts that people have given to me—I found a little vial of cologne and some cucumber-ginseng facial mist on my dresser as I was getting my things together—is a testament to the ways that people have been generous. When the line of people buying their gift vouchers for our More Than a Toy program this past Christmas was largely made up of people who had been attending classes and earning points so they could give vouchers away to other people who had children to buy for and not enough points, that was love in action.

Yesterday, the staff of the Campus put on a different type of shoes. Bowling shoes. We closed the Campus for the afternoon and we all headed to the bowling alley for pizza and fun. A surprise was that the reason for the party was to honor me and Brian, a fellow year-long intern through the Jesuit Volunteer Corps (a Catholic equivalent of the YAV program). It was our goodbye party without the goodbye part, since we will both be staying at the Campus. People were given an opportunity to share good (and bad) things about us. Hearing what the people I work with had to say about me was special, and they said things I wouldn’t have expected. Then we bowled. There was lots of cheering, laughing and even a few pins were knocked over in the process. I taunted Ms. Anneice, who had earlier told everybody about how we fight like boyfriend and girlfriend (yikes!), about how I was beating her, even though only by a few pins (says something about my bowling ability). It was just a time to let loose and have fun and to celebrate what we have been through together.

The most important thing about this year at the Campus has been the people who have been through it with me. Staff members, participants and volunteers have all been a part of the community that makes the Campus a special place. One year ago, I had never met a homeless person. Sure, I’d been to the Lighthouse Mission in Terre Haute once or twice, but the poor were an interesting concept and people I felt sorry for. I am thankful for the opportunity I have had to make friends out of people who were once foreign to me. The relationships I have formed and the love that has flowed between us has been an experience like none other.

Thanks be to God.

The Ring

2007-07-31T22:25:00.000-05:00

The worst kept secret in the city of Nashville over the last month is that Patrick was planning to propose to his girlfriend, Sarah. As I write this (Monday night), Patrick is anxiously pacing around the Toolshed, waiting for time to head to the Midtown Café to set up his proposal night. Of course, by the time I actually post this on the blog, I will have made sure she said yes and have their permission to share the news.

On a Saturday several weeks ago, Patrick mistakenly let it slip that he was on his way to the jewelry store to do some ring shopping. Chasie, being the girl that she is, said, “oh, I’ll go with you!—I mean, if I can…”

After Patrick said she could, he said, “well it will be less weird if Jeff goes too.”

And so we loaded up in Patrick’s Durango to head for Cool Springs. As we were pulling out, Tara happened to pull in, so she jumped in too. Now, let me make it clear that I was not all that interested in which ring Patrick was going to choose. People ask me what the ring looks like, and I always say, it’s round and it’s got a diamond. I did have the time of my life at Shane Co. with their free homemade cookies and bottles of water the lady carried around in a basket. There was also the free coffee machine and the umbrellas that were available to take if it was raining. And Tara, Chasie and I got to know the security guy pretty well in the couple of hours that we were there. He tipped us off to the best kind of cookies and made sure to alert us when fresh ones came out. We were all a little surprised, including Patrick, when he actually bought a ring that day. We went and had a celebration at Bosco’s afterward. That Saturday was a highlight of the year, for sure.

He didn’t know it yet, but Sarah had let me know in early June that she was going to fly in to surprise Patrick for the Fourth of July, which was the next week from this ring-buying trip. So, we had that excitement on top of what Patrick was doing. The engagement ring was going to be ready on Tuesday at the exact same time that I was going to be picking Sarah up from the airport. I was charged with the task of making sure he didn’t walk into the house with a jewelry store bag, which would “ruin their lives forever” as Tara and Chasie explained to me. Fortunately, Mrs. Hammontree, who also knew that Sarah was coming to Nashville, had encouraged Patrick to leave the ring in the vault for safe keeping. Crisis averted.

What a privilege it was to share in Patrick’s preparation for this big step in his life—a result of some serious vocational discernment. This afternoon, as Patrick finished up his preparations for the big night—a whole gallery of pictures surrounded by rose petals that they would find in their private dining room at the Midtown Café after riding in a chauffeured town car from the airport—the others of us couldn’t help but share in his excitement.

That’s what this year living together has been all about. It has been about the overlapping of individual lives, forming one cohesive unit with bonds strong enough that they can’t be overwhelmed easily. As Annie said in her sermon yesterday, prayers were answered when the four of us somehow fell into place as the NEP volunteers for this year. Patrick and I were interested in several of the same sites—Atlanta, Nashville, and Cincinnati. Chasie was initially interested in going abroad. Tara wanted to go to Tucson. We all became drawn to Nashville for various reasons, but it can only be attributed to the movement of the Spirit that four people could be drawn together who not only shared an interest in service and the pursuit of social justice, but who could share 600 square feet for eleven months without a major conflict! Miracles do indeed still happen.

The four of us, whether we’ve been sitting on our couches in the living room, or going on a road trip together, or going out to eat, or sharing the highs and lows of our days, have found ways to share parts of our lives that will never be the same. Even though I’m sure we’ll talk often to Patrick, and Tara and Chasie will be living about two miles away from me and Brian, it won’t be the same.

I’ll miss bantering with Tara about whatever topic we can come up with. She is such a smart and funny person, and I admire her passion for justice and hospitality toward those who are coming to our country from Latin America. I will miss hearing Chasie’s laugh and talking to her about how our days went. I’ll miss the everyday chance to make up a little song about her or come up with a new nickname for her. I won’t miss sharing a bunk bed with Patrick, but I will certainly miss our spontaneous sing alongs and the way we make fun of the girls together, and saying “PATRICK!?!” when he comes in the door from work, and hearing “JEFF!?!” in response.

The same Spirit that brought us here was the same Spirit that became the love between us, as in Augustine’s description of the Trinity (the lover, the beloved, and the love between them). Community was not always easy. We didn’t always understand one another’s motives, and we didn’t always agree on how things should be done. As Henri Nouwen wrote, “Nothing is sweet or easy about community. Community is a fellowship of people who do not hide their joys and sorrows but make them visible to each other in a gesture of hope.”

In the struggle to create authentic community with one another, we found common ground that gave us strength and truly gave us hope to be able to find the image of God in one another and in the people we have met in service. Patrick somehow found hope with his girlfriend 900 miles away that a future with her was what he wanted. And we all shared in the joy of that discovery.

By the time I’ve gotten around to writing this part, it’s almost 11:00pm and we’re waiting excitedly for Patrick and Sarah to come back here. Our time together as an organized community is over, but the memories we have shared and the common life we have developed will go on. Thanks be to God for the gifts of friendship, love and mutual faith that we have shared in this amazing journey.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

It’s now Tuesday night. We’re officially YAVs for just about an hour more. Patrick and Sarah are talking on their phones sharing their news with friends from Texas. Tara and Chasie are getting things moved into their new townhouse, and I’m getting a few things together before I do the bulk of my packing tomorrow morning. We’ll all spend our last night together here tonight. Since my apartment won’t be available until the 3rd, I’ll be leaving most of my things here until the 8th when I come back to Nashville.

So what’s up with this blog now that the year’s over?
People have been asking me whether or not I’ll continue this blog past the YAV experience. I will not. This blog has been the way that I have communicated this particular experience with people from home and around the church and community. There will probably be three more posts: one probably tomorrow wrapping up my first year with the Campus for Human Development, one following the re-entry retreat at Ghost Ranch, and then a concluding reflection on the experience of this year. Starting a blog for the Campus community is something that will likely be a part of my new responsibilities there, so I’ll keep you posted on that.

NASHVILLE EPIPHANY PROJECT 2006-07

PATRICK HAMMONTREE, CHASIE WALLIS, TARA LENTZ, JEFF MOLES

Family

2007-07-30T16:46:00.001-05:00

Sunday was the first of the last three days of NEP. It was a day when we celebrated the special connection we have shared with Second Presbyterian Church this year. We began the day with worship—the last Sunday we’d have our names listed in the bulletin under the church staff column. The experience of our last Sunday together as YAVs would probably have been different just as our last days at work tomorrow would be different if three of the four of us weren’t staying put. But, it was our last day sitting in a row at Second with Patrick, and when any member of the family leaves, it’s tough.

After a great sermon by Annie McClure, the four of us were called to the front to be de-commissioned (that would be the opposite of the commissioning in September, right?). Amy and Annie led a service that included naming what we had contributed to our mission placements and to the church. As I’ve said a lot, this year was somewhat strange in that it was the least involved I have ever been in the church, while at the same time, Second Pres. allowed me to be the most involved in the ministry of Christian faith than I have ever been. It was a stretching experience to take my faith outside church committees and well-ordered worship. The church newsletter lists some of the things the four of us did at Second this year: music, Sunday School teaching, newsletter articles, letter writing campaigns, baby sitting, mission trip chaperoning, house sitting, Room In The Inn volunteering, and lots of fellowshipping.

After worship came the celebration of what I consider to be the most important part of what I took from my experience with the church this year—the family we gained. NEP is the only site in the YAV program that is linked to an individual congregation. In other words, Second is the only church out of the 11,000 in our denomination that sponsors its own Young Adult Volunteer site. Along with that came a natural family. Just today, a woman dropped by a picnic basket full of “traveling food” for us. This is emblematic of the kind of extraordinary support we’ve received from Second from day one. Many of our closest friends from the church trekked over to our driveway yesterday for a reception. Later that night, we went to Jim and Deb Kitchens’ house for a farewell dinner with the church staff, NEP committee, our mentors and Janet Salyer. The only wrinkle in the day was that Susan, our site coordinator who has been an outstanding part of our year, was unable to be with us due to her mother’s death earlier in the week. Despite missing the most important person in our year, we managed to have a great time, sitting around laughing with the church staff after everyone else had left. Second has become a true family for us over the past year.

It is a church that truly calls its members to become active servants in the world. I am so thankful for the wonderful people that call Second Presbyterian in Nashville their church home. What a gift it has been to add Second to my list of church homes, alongside Central Pres. and Trinity Lutheran in Terre Haute, and it’s exciting that I’ll be able to continue to call Second home for a while longer. It’s a remarkable congregation, and we’re all so thankful for everything they’ve done for us.

Our good pal Zach, who could be considered to be the 5th NEP volunteer this year, is moving away too in August--to Indiana. I guess Zach and I are trading states. Good luck to him as he starts at Notre Dame Law School. Between Chasie and Zach is Ariel, who might as well be the 6th NEP volunteer this year. She is serving as Second's youth director through the Center for Youth Ministry Training.

The reception in the driveway -- Janet Hilley, Sue Biddle and John McClure were having a blast!

This is the church's gift to me, presented last night at the dinner. It's a calabash rattle from Cameroon.

"The flowers decorating the sanctuary today were given by the Campus for Human Development in honor of Jeff, Chasie, Tara and Patrick."

The Campus people are nice (at least I liked you until this afternoon...ha.)

Blogging the Campus Values: NON-VIOLENCE

2007-07-28T15:47:00.000-05:00

This is the seventh and final piece in a series (see the first, second, third, fourth, fifth and sixth) of blog posts with some guest writers. I have asked some of my co-workers from the Campus for Human Development to write some personal reflections on the seven core values that are contained in our mission statement:

“Through the power of spirituality and the practice of love, the Campus for Human Development provides hospitality with a respect that offers hope in a community of non-violence.”

The culminating core value—the value that the other ones lead to—is Non-Violence. Following words on non-violence by our founding director, Charlie Strobel, Edith shares her thoughts on types of violence and ways to overcome them.

* * * * * * * * * *

Charles Strobel:

Our last core value is our most important one, as it relates to our overall vision for the world. Given that our spirituality is the origin for all our life’s actions, without the mission of peacemaking it remains empty and void of true purpose.

Hatred begets violence, and violence begets wars. The world of the homeless is filled with hatred and violence. The Campus defines violence as four-fold: physical, verbal, racial and sexual. We call on everyone—participants, staff and volunteers—to create an atmosphere free of violence of every kind.

The normal response to violence is the discipline and protection of the law. The Campus understands that legal protections are limited and do not always bring justice. What remains for the homeless is a culture of “taking the law into your own hands,” since many believe that they should not suffer injustices passively.

The principles of non-violence are not based on passivity. They are an active force rooted in love and respect. They are counter-cultural. Non-violence believes that love disarms conflicts, deescalates violence, and diffuses hatred.

The Campus can be free of violence out of fear of violence. This is not what the principles of non-violence teach. Martin Luther King’s principles describe a different vision:
-Non-violence is a courageous act practiced by the strongest of people.
-Non-violence never seeks to embarrass or destroy the opponent but calls for better understanding of the other.
-Non-violence is not aimed at “evil” people, but only evil ideas, practices and laws.
-Non-violence requires that one be able to endure suffering without retaliation.
-Non-violence not only resists physical violence, but an internal one as well. It is critical for one to love the enemy or else one’s hatred only contributes to the same evil exerted by the enemy.
-Non-violence believes that the “universe is on the side of justice.” Faith in the future means that the struggle for justice is not in vain.

Although the law allows everyone the right of self-defense, the Campus invites staff and volunteers to embrace the principles of non-violence while at the Campus.

Over the years of our Campus history, these applied principles are responsible for creating a violent-free world within their larger world of violence. Often taken for granted and unmentioned, the sanctuary we provide remains one of our greatest lessons—namely, that people of diverse backgrounds can live together in peace and resolve their differences through reasonable dialogue, not force.

On first coming to the Campus, some may question the value of non-violence and its primary importance at the Campus—wondering even if anyone can practice it. In time, the mystery of living it out is discovered in living out the other six core values. By living out our other six core values, one cannot help but become non-violent, thus creating one’s personal circle of non-violence. Believing in the first six core values leads to a belief in non-violence.

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Guest Blogger: Edith Costanza

I am going to begin with the premise that it is our basic human nature to be violent and it is our “higher self” which seeks non-violence. If I am going to be “non-violent,” to practice “non-violence,” then I need to ask myself some questions and I need to pt into play non-violent strategies for daily living.

Questions: What am I violent toward? Why am I violent toward _________? What are the motives in bringing out my violence?

I can be violent towards environment, infrastructure and people. Quick examples: environment-pollution, infrastructure-tagging, and people-racial epithets. Everyone who’ll read this is intelligent. Do the thinking. Expand the list of reasons, motives and examples.

Strategies: Environment- Join, begin, or support an organization dedicated so some aspect of helping the environment. Infrastructure-Keep your dwelling insulated, build efficient public buildings, restructure and upgrade existing dwellings for more efficient usage. People-Be kind. Don’t gossip, period. Assume the best about people rather than the worst. Be patient in traffic and don’t curse at people in your car. To curse at all is a violent act—small, but violent. Give people your attention. Be more interested in understanding another’s viewpoint, instead of being “right.” Ask him this question: “How did you come to think that about___________?” And then listen and don’t argue the person down. Remember, you’d simply like to know, so you might be able to find common ground.

I think there are many examples of people being non-violent at the Campus. There are people who are extremely positive in their outlook and rarely have anything negative to say about anyone. There are people who are able to diffuse fights with humor and grace. There are people who everyday give the participants the benefit of the doubt.

About me. I just want to say that being an art therapist for the Campus is grace on a daily basis. I love being able to use my creativity and encourage people to explore and/or develop their own artistry. In this context this is enough about who I am. For more info, visit my website at edithcostanza.com.

Edith is the Campus's art therapist. She teaches art classes for the general population and for the men in our Odyssey program. She also led our peace-themed spring staff retreat. One of my favorite memories of the first week I worked at the Campus was getting to go to one of Edith's art classes. She has a way of pulling creativity out of anybody and making people feel relaxed and at home. I always like to stick my head in the art room to see what's going on.

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THANK YOU!

I want to thank everyone from the Campus who took the time to write their reflections on our core values: Fred, Jana, Anneice, Mary, Rachel, Martina, Harry, Charlie, Maggie and Edith. They really turned out well and helped me express what goes on at the Campus every day to those who read from home, Second Pres., and around the Presbyterian Church.

Blogging the Campus Values: LOVE

2007-07-27T20:47:00.000-05:00

This is the sixth in a series (see the first, second, third, fourth, and fifth) of blog posts with some guest writers. I have asked some of my co-workers from the Campus for Human Development to write some personal reflections on the seven core values that are contained in our mission statement:

“Through the power of spirituality and the practice of love, the Campus for Human Development provides hospitality with a respect that offers hope in a community of non-violence.”

In this post, following a reflection on love by our founder, Charlie Strobel, Maggie tells about the love she’s experienced in her years of volunteering and working at the Campus and tells about the tranformation of relationships that can happen when love is practiced.

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Charles Strobel:

The Campus for Human Development believes that love is a power that expresses itself in action. There is thought without action and action without thought. Love is divine thought in action. Good intentions without follow-through, as well as thoughtlessness, create additional hardships on anyone in need of the loving support of others. Sometimes permanent solutions and long-term answers are not always available. Sometimes it seems there is never enough to make it—never enough beds, enough food, enough words of comfort. But there is always love. It comes from friends, from the volunteers and staff who are there to take us in when our spirits are drooping. In our weakness love is healing and restorative of our own self-love. Such love begins with an unconditional concern for our well-being. It is liberating for it drives out our fear by encouraging us to believe in our inner worth and beauty. Love keeps us in relationships, rather than leaving us to face our journey alone.

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Guest Blogger: Maggie Jones

To me, the Campus is just an extension of my family- and probably the less nutty side.

My journey with the Campus began in 1992, at the age of eleven. Back then, Sunday nights at Room in the Inn were filled with the love of my family and participants, all of whom I would “grow up” with. Eventually, I moved on to graduate high school, moved off to college, and, ultimately, found my way back to the Campus in October of 2005.

While volunteering at such a young age, I never truly understood the impact that the Campus would have on my life. It is only in the past year and a half that I have come to realize all of the love that surrounds me each day. It is in the smiles we share, the pouring out of hearts, it is even in the pieces of candy and gum that our participants bestow on us at the support desk each morning. One of my favorite examples of is when one of our more gruff participants, whom we all know and love, comes up to me and says, “I remember you when you were this big,” as he hold out his hand, as a proud grandparent might. He is also quick to remind me that if I act out of line that he will “tell my mamma” on me. All of this, not out of disrespect, but because he knows my family, and has a sense of love for us- even though he would die if he ever had to admit to it.

As I write this entry at my desk, there is a quote hanging in front of me which reads: “Everyday we are called to small things with great love.” I posted this where I could see it everyday, so that I may be reminded that it is not the huge milestones or great fetes that I will be remembered for. Rather, it is for the small things; the warm greetings, non-judgmental advice, and the sympathizing ear-this is what the men and women of the Campus will remember me for. Compared with those things, the love, respect and just plain good feelings that I receive back are far more numerous. Any staff person would agree that while we do have off days, we ultimately receive more than we could give here.

One final example I would like to share happened during the Christmas season of 2005. As I and a handful of guys were working on decorating that year’s Christmas tree, a particularly difficult participant approached and asked if he could help. Of course I let him, not wanting to deny anyone the opportunity. I admit that I did have some apprehension. I wasn’t sure if someone would trigger him and he would end up throwing an ornament in a fit of rage, or if I might receive some of his more usual verbal abuse that day. What I received, instead, was an irreplaceable Christmas memory. As we laughed and cut up, I began to see our relationship change, and ultimately a new friendship was born. He doesn’t come around too much anymore, but when he does come, I am able to see a change in him. While I do not take credit for any of this, I do cling to the idea that the small act of love that was shown that winter day has opened wide doors for us both.

These are just two of the many, many, many examples of love played out in everyday life at the Campus.

Maggie is my right-hand woman at the Campus, or maybe it would be more accurate to say that I am her right-hand man. We were both born on December 31, 1980 (I'm a few hours older), and somehow ended up doing the same job at the same place. Maggie and I make a good team because we have very different personalities. As she describes it, she's the spaz, and I'm the laid back one. Maggie's sister worked at the Campus until earlier this year, and her mom just started as a staff member after many years of volunteering. When Maggie's not running around cleaning and organizing things at mach speed, she is very good at working with people, never failing to show love even after people aren't so loving toward her (Maggie will thank me for not citing any recent examples). Of everyone who works at the Campus, Maggie is probably one of the ones most naturally gifted for her particular job.

Blogging the Campus Values: HOPE

2007-07-24T20:32:00.000-05:00

This is the fifth in a series (see the first, second, third, and fourth) of blog posts with some guest writers. I have asked some of my co-workers from the Campus for Human Development to write some personal reflections on the seven core values that are contained in our mission statement:

“Through the power of spirituality and the practice of love, the Campus for Human Development provides hospitality with a respect that offers hope in a community of non-violence.”

This post begins with a reflection on hope from our founding director Charlie Strobel. Then, Harry shares some of the ways that he’s brought hope to the Campus community over the years.

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Charles Strobel:

When a person feels “respected,” there is hope. The need to be defensive disappears, and conversations cease to be adversarial and argumentative. Depression results from an inability to wish, to dream, to desire, to yearn, to seek, to hope. Often the homeless come to the Campus with few possessions and devoid of hope. What we want to offer them is hope.

Hope is support on their life-long journey that raises self-expectations. The idea of a “campus” implies that growth, opportunity, learning, change—human development—is possible here. Hope offers the promise of self-discovery that can lead to a new meaning in one’s life.

Not to have hope is both self-defeating and leads to despair. That is why there must be great sensitivity to the conflicts that occur in our midst. Simply enforcing the law restores order but perhaps at a greater cost than achieving some immediate “peace.” In our need to establish a respectful order, we never want to “defeat” a person. The grievance process is rooted in hope. “Upstairs administration” is a path designed in hope. Though disciplined and restrained, no one needs to leave here hopeless, no matter how long it takes to give that message.

Hope always believes in the possible.

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Guest Blogger: Harry Singh

My name is Harry Singh, I was born in Pamona, California on August 27, 1927. I came to the Campus the day after Labor Day 1996. I did volunteer work in 1989 two days a week. I worked the shower program and now I teach an alcohol and drug class. I also interpret for persons who speak Spanish only. I try to instill hope in all the participants and let them know that God loves and has loved them from day one. I have seen many who have gone and its sad, but they have gone to a better place. We here at the Campus are going to do the very best we can for all the participants. With God’s will we cannot fail. With God’s love we will endure.

Harry Singh, about to turn 80, is a member of the day team at the Campus. He leads most of our Alcohol and Drug education classes and works in the day room. He enjoys going out to lunch (usually at Dan's or Fiesta Mexicana with an occassional adventure like RuSan's or the International Market) and eating spicy foods. I can always expect to hear "El Jeff!" when I walk into the same room as Harry. As you can see from the picture, he didn't have to worry about splattering paint on himself at our recent work day.

Rule of Life

2007-07-21T20:57:00.000-05:00

It’s hard to believe that the eleven months of NEP have nearly past. One week and a few days from now, Tuesday the 31st, will be the last day of this program that has literally been a night and day commitment since September 2nd of last year. We have already experienced some of the “lasts” of this experience: Patrick had his last day of work with his kids at Preston Taylor Ministries yesterday, we spent the last night together as just the four of us last night and had our last community meal, Janet lit the Christ candle to start our vocational discernment time for the final time last weekend at our end of the year retreat, extinguishing it after we commissioned one another to carry Christ’s light into the world. I said “goodbye, Jesus” after she blew out the candle, and I was promptly told that I didn’t get the point of what we’d just done.

What will be happening for me in the next several weeks? This week will be my last full week of volunteering at work. Patrick will be gone this week on a mission trip with the Jr. High youth group to the Heifer Ranch in Arkansas, so it will be just me and the girls here at the house. Tomorrow, I’ll be substitute organist in church. I was called about that this afternoon, due to a family emerg

ency for our regular organist. I got a subpoena in the mail today to testify in court on Thursday morning, so I will be doing that. Other than that, I’ll be enjoying my final days sitting in my place on the couch, spending time bantering with Tara and laughing at and with Chasie.

Over the last three days of the program, we will be having a reception in our driveway after church and we’ll let interested church members come over to see the place where we’ve been living. That evening, everyone involved in NEP this year—we, our mentors, church staff, NEP committee members and friends—will gather at Susan’s house for a celebratory dinner together. Patrick’s girlfriend Sarah will be coming into town on Monday evening to help him get ready to leave, and Tara’s family will arrive to help her finish the arrangements for the new condo that she and Chasie will be moving into. And on Tuesday night, it will end. Wed

nesday will bring Patrick’s departure. I’ll probably be the last one to start packing, as usual, and I’ll be taking things to the new apartment that my brother Brian and I will be living in.

Speaking of apartment that Brian and I will be living in—I think we might have one! On Wednesday, I paid the deposit for a 2-bedroom, 2-bathroom apartment off West End near Vanderbilt. It is adjacent to Centennial Park, and a look around the corner puts you face to face with Nashville’s replica of The Parthenon.

I plan to drive home to Terre Haute on the 1st or the 2nd. I’ll spend a week there, and then I’ll drive back to Nashville probably on the 8th. On August 9, I’ll be flying with Tara to New Mexico, where we will attend the National Young Adult Volunteers re-entry event at Ghost Ranch. We’ll fly back here on the 12th, and re-entry will become a reality. I will st

art my full-time, paid (wahoo!) employment at the Campus for Human Development on Wednesday, August 15.

That’s what I’ll be doing over the next few weeks. What is probably most important is what goes on within during the final days of this transforming experience. How will I choose to respond to the things I have seen and done since coming to Nashville? How will life be different than it was before?

At our end of the year retreat last weekend at Penuel Ridge, our spiritual director, Janet, shared the practice of developing a rule of life with us. During a three hour period of silent reflection, we were to think about what things might go into our rule of life, which is a basic framework for an individual’s spiritual development. These can become the basis of a life that is connected to God: study, quiet, prayer, service, worship. These are the things that can sustain us for the long haul. Living in a program is easy, compared to living a rule of life in a world that so often makes spiritual living a challenge.

Blogging the Campus Values: HOSPITALITY

2007-07-19T21:58:00.000-05:00

This is the fourth in a series (see the first, second, and third) of blog posts with some guest writers. I have asked some of my co-workers from the Campus for Human Development to write some personal reflections on the seven core values that are contained in our mission statement:

“Through the power of spirituality and the practice of love, the Campus for Human Development provides hospitality with a respect that offers hope in a community of non-violence.”

In this post, Rachel Hester talks about the southern hospitality she has experienced in her life. Rachel’s piece is preceded by a reflection on hospitality by the Campus’s founding director, Charlie Strobel.

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Charles Strobel:

This is the initial grace of the Campus for Human Development—what we hope people first experience when they come to the Campus. What people need to not only survive, but to thrive, is a safe environment that contains relationships that are loving, full of learning and provide healing. If I have these kinds of interlocking relationships—that are truly gifts—then I have, at least, a good chance to take care of myself. Maybe I can go into my world and find housing and employment and contribute as a member of society.
This is where the Campus for Human Development begins, with this understanding.

Think about the word hospitality for a minute. When we have everything we need in life, then hospitality conjures up images of someone who entertains us graciously, someone who invites us for a lovely dinner and makes us feel that it would be no trouble at all to spend the night. It is a host who who’s interested in our stories, laughs at our jokes, keeps our secrets.

Hospitality is a skill that we especially pride ourselves on in the south. But the craving for hospitality, the desire for the dignity it brings to the guest, is no less among the poor. The homeless remind us that the root word for graciousness is, indeed, grace.

What we strive for at the Campus is a kind of hospitality that does not become tired. The homeless need listeners, people to hold their secrets. They need a place that is safe enough to find healing and forgiveness so that they can learn how to move on with their lives. Of course, this never happens on our schedule. As one of our oldest staff members says, “People change not in our time, but in God’s time.” We need to offer them that much time, at no cost, just like any gracious host would do.

When someone experiences hospitality and safety and a feeling of belonging, they experience sanctuary. Sanctuary is defined by the people, not the space. Everyone can become an expression of sanctuary. Ultimately, sanctuary offers one an experience of something sacred, something holy.

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Guest Blogger: Rachel Hester

Some of my favorite childhood memories are the times I would spend with my granny in Holt, Alabama. Often times her house was filled with more folks than the dinner table could hold. I can count my times at the “grown up’s table” on one hand. At night the house was so full that I slept in the baby bed until I was 8.

Being a mother of 9 and a grandmother of 23 it wasn’t often that one could steal quiet moments with her alone. I cherish those late nights watching Johnny Carson with a slice of pound cake and milk, getting ready for church and using her Aqua Net hair spray, and swinging on the porch to the cadence of her old sewing machine.

My grandmother has been gone for a little over a year.
As I step back from those moments of loss I realize how grateful I am for the gifts that they gave me. Not gifts of value such as china and jewelry but seeds that were planted and nurtured to help me become the person I am. I realize now that I am growing older that she taught me a lot more to being a southern lady than ice cream socials and hoop skirts.

• She taught me to always be kind to a stranger
• Always smile
• It is nice to wave or say hello to people who cross your paths
• Learn folks names when you can
• Take time to encourage someone going through a difficult time
• Let folks know they are welcome to drop by when they can
• Use your yes mam’s and no mam’s
• There is always room for one more at the dinner table
• Remember, no one has to know the good you do for someone else – you only have what you give away

Hospitality is receiving and entertaining stranger generously and kindly. It has to do with her heart. Granny showed hospitality to her neighbors effortlessly. Not just her geographic neighbors but to all she came in contact with. Whether making her ambrosia for someone going through a difficult time, or always having a fresh pound cake sitting on the dryer in the kitchen as if it were just waiting for the next person who brought their clothes to be altered or a neighbor stopping by to talk.

Hospitality is merely ordinary people who go the extra mile to live life with dignity, style, and class in today’s hustle and bustle world. Hospitality can be difficult and at times tiresome, or even cause others to look at us strangely. There are moments that hospitality isn’t the easiest option. But it gives us an opportunity to practice our faith and experience God in a different way.

Last season, I learned from many volunteers that Room In The Inn was an opportunity of service that they chose because they knew that it was the grace of God that kept them from the streets due to poverty or addiction. Some mentioned that they had members of their own families on the street and hoped that the work they did was equal to the work that someone else had done in order to help that loved one. Some themselves had been homeless – even coming through the Room In The Inn Program and now was their opportunity to give back.

We never know how our efforts will be used.

We will begin our 23rd season of Room In The Inn on November 1st. There will be moment throughout the season that w e will share tears, laughs, joyful news, and some despair, sometimes even questioning ourselves about why we do what we do all awhile hoping that what we do is etched upon their heart, hoping that they know that when in need of refuge, not just from the elements we will be her. A place where they can be accepted for who they are at that moment. A place where volunteers are willing to share in their joys and their sorrows. A place for them to be themselves. A place of hospitality.

Rachel is the executive director of the Campus for Human Development. She took over after Charlie Strobel’s retirement a few years ago. Rachel spends her winter evenings as a Room In The Inn Coordinator. She recently began the adventure of parenting, with the adoption of Austin. Rachel is well respected by everyone at the Campus for her relaxed yet confident style of leadership and her sense of fun.

If God's people work in God's world...

2007-07-15T08:36:00.000-05:00

The new NEP promotional video is finished! Susan received some money for promotion of the program which has been used to make this fantastic video, starring Susan, the four of us from this year, plus Chandra (last year's YAV) and Sam (a YAV from the group two years ago who is still around).

There are a few quirks. On the DVD I uploaded there are these subliminal message type frames with the word "unrendered" flashing between lots of the scenes.

Another quirk is that there is footage on here that is supposed to be the Campus and it is not, unless they found some room with round tables that I have never seen and some homeless people that I have never met.

Here it is...just click play to watch the video.

Blogging the Campus Values: COMMUNITY

2007-07-12T22:59:00.000-05:00

This is the third in a series (see the first and second) of blog posts with some guest writers. I have asked some of my co-workers from the Campus for Human Development to write some personal reflections on the seven core values that are contained in our mission statement:

“Through the power of spirituality and the practice of love, the Campus for Human Development provides hospitality with a respect that offers hope in a community of non-violence.”

The core value in this post is community. As usual, Founding Director Charlie Strobel’s comments are posted first, then Martina compares the sense of community found at the Campus to experiences of her past. I follow up with an un-planned contribution to our thoughts about community.

DISCLAIMER: If you are my mom or grandmother, or someone who is like a mother to me, please enjoy reading Martina’s nice post. You might want to skip the part of the post that I wrote. Same goes for any potential Young Adult Volunteers who might be considering coming to Nashville to work at the Campus. For people who fit this description, it’s truly a lovely place where we just sit around a hug one another all day while singing camp songs with the underprivileged.

* * * * * * * * *

Charles Strobel:

Everyone agrees that “no man is an island.” Often the homeless have isolated themselves on their own island with no connection home. Community offers the sanctuary of a spiritual home. This concept is not defined by blood since blood relatives can hate each other. A community provides the security of belonging somewhere. Such an experience is supportive and respectful through acceptance, understanding, growth, wisdom and reconciliation. Communities share common interests, goals and responsibilities. A community model is not the same as a democratic model, a prison model, or a military model, but more like a familial or tribal model where kin and kind are bound in relationships of love. This spiritual force unites the diverse personalities and calls forth commitment to one another as a priority.

For the homeless, this invitation is the most challenging, as they seek to do whatever is necessary to survive. Having many failed relationships in their families, education and employment, they legitimately may wonder if they can ever live within community.

Looking to the future, the obstacles they face require so much courage and determination from them that they often “give up,” appearing resigned and hopeless. Thus, they can be mistaken, on the surface, as “choosing” their lifestyle. When failure is so prevalent in their past, success is difficult to imagine. Here is where the Campus must model relationships among staff and volunteers in such a way that the homeless actually enjoy being here. When they feel our warm hospitality welcoming them, they can begin again to feel what it means to belong.

The Room In The Inn congregations are vital in providing them a sense of belonging. Vending machines can feed them, but only people can share with them a sense of community. As our homeless guests experience this night after night, our day services become the extension of that nightly hospitality. Although our interactions may take a bit longer, sharing our own love is primary, even though sometimes it can be difficult. “Joe, it is so great to see you,” is a simple yet powerful preamble to “how can I help you?” or “what is it that you need?”

Over time, we have heard people return to the Campus, not simply for services, as desperate as they may be, but to say “hello’” or to tell us that they did not feel they belonged anywhere else.

Of all the compliments the Campus has received over the years, hearing someone say that—that this is the only place where they feel they belong—is perhaps the greatest and the most humbling.

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Guest Blogger: Martina Condron

Jeff had hinted to me that he had selected me as one of his co-workers he was asking to write about the Campus’ core values. I was not sure which value Jeff would pick for me and restrained myself from offering him a suggestion. So when I got community it was the one value I would not have suggested for me. I began to think and reflect about what community means to me and how it has shaped my life.

Growing up we had a Parish Hall/Community Center, it was located in the basement of our new church, built in 1972 it came with all the mod cons. It consisted of a large room with a stage, rooms behind the stage for actors that doubled as mini conference/meeting rooms, bathroom facilities and a concession stand. The center was open seven days a week and served everyone in the congregation and neighbors. It provided space for senior coffee mornings, women’s groups, all types of classes and group meetings, girl guides, scouts, basketball, indoor soccer, Irish dancing lessons the list goes on and our youth club. Especially for youth of that time it was a safe space away from playing on the streets. Families tended to be larger and homes smaller leaving no other place but the streets to play in. Looking back I am not even sure who organized/arranged for volunteers to always be around teaching classes, encouraging and mentoring us. Whoever it was did a wonderful job at finding volunteers who where excellent role models, who where loving and giving of their time and talents and who really, really wanted to work with us. I also did not realize then that what we had in that youth group was a community.

The Campus is a lot like that community center and our programs are a lot like the classes we attended. Staff and volunteers at both centers have similar traits, understanding, encouragement, maturity and equality. In both places a person feels safe, secure, cared for and loved. In both places a person is expected to ‘participate’ to their own level. The expectation is that everyone be their best and do their best.

Martina, a native of Ireland, heads up the Campus's development team. That team...well, I'm not completely sure what they do, but I know it has to do with money, answering the phone, and coordinating volunteers. She also spends many of her winter evenings coordinating Room In The Inn. She also uses several phrases that we're not that used to in America, like "mod cons."

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Not-Much-of-a-Guest Blogger: Jeff Moles

Sometimes things become so clear that it’s like they hit you on the head. The sense of community that we share at the Campus between both staff and participants became apparent to me in a new way today when I was on the receiving end of an attack with a not-so-deadly weapon.

Today, as we were preparing for our regular Thursday lunch, I was called outside by another staff member to talk with some gentlemen who were drinking on our property. While I was outside in the parking lot, a different man, Joe, approached me and started talking. It was pretty evident that he had been doing some drinking, which is not unusual for this gentleman, who also suffers from mental illness. I offered him a place to stay at the Guest House, which is our safe space for the publicly intoxicated, but he was unwilling to leave his garbage bag full of empty beer cans outside. He wasn’t allowed into the Guest House since he wasn’t being compliant with the simple things being asked of him. On his way out, he stopped to beat on the windows of the Guest House, calling my coworker inside every name in the book. He seemed to calm down a little as he and I walked together to the alley so I could make sure he was leaving the property. As we stood at the alley, and I once again reminded him that he needed to leave, I turned to answer a question from one of the men from the earlier incident. As I was speaking, BAM!, Joe took his bag of empty cans and flung it to hit me on the back of the head. Now, fortunately, he didn’t hit me with a bag of full cans, or anything other than empty cans, so the blow wasn’t bad enough that it hurt me, but it was still pretty forceful. After taking about a half second to think about what had just happened, I told Joe that I was calling the police, so he started to lumber down the alley. Fortunately I wasn’t put on hold when I called 911 this time, but it did take about 20 minutes for the police to arrive, which made me thankful that he wasn’t still beating up on me.

So, how am I going to manage twisting getting whacked in the head with a garbage bag full of empty beer cans into a story about community? The community was found in the response. The first thing I remember seeing after realizing that I had just gotten hit and that I was in danger was the group of guys from the treatment program over at the clinic next door with shocked looks on their faces, walking toward me. I also remember hearing a pretty big gasp from the group of participants who were waiting outside to be called in for lunch. It blew me away how many people were ready to come to my aid and probably beat poor Joe up on my behalf. I motioned for the guys from the clinic to stay where they were, and I kept the other participants calm while he left. For homeless people in downtown Nashville thinking of me as one of their own, and having them be willing to risk themselves for me is not something I ever imagined would happen. The guys in treatment could have risked being kicked out of the program and their own recovery if they would have intervened physically. Numerous participants came to me to make sure I was alright the rest of the day. The staff also made sure I was alright—Martina and Rachel raced downstairs when I told them what happened, even though they really didn’t need to.

John’s gospel records Jesus saying “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” That is the very essence of community: sacrifice for one’s friends, sharing, being served by those I’m supposed to be serving. How fortunate I’ve been to be a part of such a community.

Jeff is me. When he's not being hit over the head with bags of aluminum cans, Jeff works on the education team, working at the support desk most of the morning. He teaches Internet and computer classes for Odyssey and the general population, and anger management for the men in the DTC treatment program. He will be a Young Adult Volunteer for less than three more weeks, and then he will look forward to receiving paychecks on a somewhat regular basis. As he told his superiors, his injuries from the canning incident today have probably affected his ability to think properly, which includes alphabetization, so he will no longer be able to sort the mail. (Rachel's overhead page to Jeff this afternoon: "Jeff, if you can make your way to a phone by yourself, dial 129...Jeff, if you are able to hear this message clearly, please dial 129." Jeff's answer: "Hello? Hello? I think I'm hearing voices!") It is strange to write in third person.

Festive Fourth

2007-07-08T21:22:00.000-05:00

There were lots of fun things going on this past week. Patrick's girlfriend Sarah came in from Texas to surprise him on Tuesday. On the Fourth of July, I worked from 6:00-10:00am, which included running the showers, showing the DVD of "Man on Fire," and eating breakfast at the Guest House. In the evening, we had a cookout and then went to watch the fireworks at the Campus. Strangely enough, we were the only people I saw who went to a homeless shelter to watch fireworks. We enjoyed our visit with the guys in the DTC treatment and VA residential programs.

Friday, the entire Campus community, including staff, participants, and volunteers, joined to have our annual picnic and carnival. A group from the Catholic Heart Workcamp had been with us all week, and this event was the culmination of their experience. We enjoyed food, live music, and games in the parking lot.

Jonathan, Dale, Eric and RITI volunteer Al enjoy themselves.

Ray's cotton candy matched his beard pretty well.

The ice cream sandwiches were leftovers from the Second Pres. dedication Sunday.

Our newest staff member, Wendy, was a pro at cotton candy making.

The band was from Woodmont Hills Church of Christ. It was a tad ironic, since the Church of Christ does not believe in using instrumental music in worship.

The alley became a playground, if only for a few hours.

Blogging the Campus Values: RESPECT

2007-06-30T19:30:00.000-05:00

This is the second in a series (the first of which was posted eons ago!) of blog posts with some guest writers. This is the first in a series of blog posts with some guest writers. I have asked some of my co-workers from the Campus for Human Development to write some personal reflections on the seven core values that are contained in our mission statement:

“Through the power of spirituality and the practice of love, the Campus for Human Development provides hospitality with a respect that offers hope in a community of non-violence.”

In this post, the focus is on respect. Our Founding Director Charlie Strobel’s thoughts on respect come first, followed by a very nice reflection that Mary Wilder wrote this spring, where she explains how she encounters respect in the world around her and in our Campus community.

* * * * * * *

Charles Strobel:

This is the operational principle of the Campus for Human Development. Hospitality begins with respect, the unconditional acceptance of the other person. At the Campus it is the operative norm for all the policies and procedures. It is incorporated in the “Rules” that are posted throughout. These rules state that “respect” is expressed by creating an atmosphere that is “free from” alcohol, drugs, violence, etc., a positive statement rather than a series of “Thou shalt nots…”

One assumption this principle reflects is the understanding that the Campus is designed around a relational model rather than a legal one. In a relational model, both staff and participants offer one another mutual trust and concern. This is no small task. In the “sub-culture” that we call homelessness, our participants often do not experience trust and personal concern. There are countless stories of homeless being betrayed, violently assaulted, robbed, ignored, verbally accosted, taken advantaged of, etc. It stands to reason that a primary assumption any participant may have of any staff is that “no one care enough” or “is trustworthy.”

When the experience on the street is compounded by further experiences in their personal life—prior to becoming homeless—such as alcohol and drug abuse, sexual abuse, failures in relationships or in employment, then the establishment of a relationship of trust and concern seems even more insurmountable.

Any agency created to assist the homeless cannot presume that its “clients” automatically believe the agency and its staff care about them. Often comments from the homeless reflect just the opposite, namely, that agencies are “in it for the money” or “staff don’t care; they just want a paycheck.”

In a relational model based upon respect, staff seeks to reverse that history. Staff enters into dialogue with participants with the hope that trust can be established before any specifics of their problem(s) can be resolved.

Respect recognizes the dignity of the other person. Mutual respect honors one another and establishes equality. Respect defuses an attitude of disrespect. It is individualized and recognizes individual rights.

Such respect can only be offered if one has confidence and believes in the power of accepting another person prior to forming any judgment. Degrees and professional qualifications do not guarantee it. Participants recognize such confidence regardless, since it is encourages and empowers them.

* * * * * * *

GUEST BLOGGER: Mary Wilder

The other day I was impatiently waiting at a stoplight in a residential neighborhood. Lost in thought, a slice of color in one of the yards caught my attention. A forsythia bush was in riotous bloom on the front lawn.

This particular area of the city prides itself on its homes and landscaping. All around me was color---the subtle pink of cherry blossoms, the pure white of Bradford pears, the pale green of new leaves. Everything around me was manicured, tasteful, and very pretty. But, somehow, I didn’t even notice. It was the forsythia that shook my senses.

There it was in the middle of the yard. The forsythia stood by itself, like a kind of centerpiece. Its branches curled and danced crazily in the air. Their direction followed no logical pattern; they just grew and moved any way they pleased. As I gazed at it, I tried to think of words to describe its yellow flowers. They were neon, fluorescent. They were ablaze in their own brightness, almost violent to the eye. It was a piece of madness against the decorum of the other blooming plants.

The light turned green, and I had to drive on. But I left with a respect for that bush. It was giving all it had to its own existence.

I walked through the Campus dayroom later that day. I saw Richard, one of our participants who struggles with a severe mental illness. Patient and courteous, Richard often waves his arms at the creatures his mind creates or steps in an exaggerated way across the room to avoid imaginary obstacles. I also saw Charlie, well over six feet tall and excruciatingly thin because of his addictions. He wants me to think his heart feels nothing anymore, but I see his face soften when we greet him. And I saw Mike, a man who has cursed me because I have things in life he does not. But there was one dark night outside our building when Mike stood behind my shoulder ready to protect me from a man who was threatening.

God does work in mysterious ways. Creation brims with beauty, and we seek it in so many obvious places and in obvious persons. But there are moments when something wild and unexpected flares up in front of us. It may be a flash of love from an angry soul or hope sparked within a defeated heart. Maybe it is a wise word from a crazy man.

The Campus has forced me to reconsider almost everything. Of course, I honor and value the ideals my culture has taught me. But I now know to respect the brilliance that is unpredictable and unlikely. The rest of the world may not see it, but it is always, always waiting and willing to come to life in warmth and light.

Mary is in charge of the Campus’s Education Team. That would make her my supervisor. (Wasn’t this the best piece of writing you’ve ever read?) She also works hard from November-March as a Room In The Inn Coordinator. She has special skills in preparing and leading devotions at our retreats, and all of us are always impressed with her skills in talking to people and explaining why we do what we do. She is a native Hoosier, and her parents still live near Evansville where they enjoy receiving balloon bouquets and making aprons to send to Nashville. Whether she’s trying to figure out who her secret pal is (could it be Ms. Anneice?!?!?) or taking us out for some new experience as a staff (hookah, anyone?), it’s always fun when Mary is around.

Correction: Mary's parents live nowhere near Evansville. They actually live in Remington, Indiana, near Lafayette. For you non-Tennesseans, that's pronounced Lah-fee-yette, not La-FAY-et.

The Word Among Us

2007-06-30T16:51:00.000-05:00

This past Sunday at Second was the annual NEP worship service. The four of us were responsible for planning and leading the entire service. We each split the sermon time, and talked about where we had found God in our experiences this year. Tara and Patrick's families were in attendance (Chasie and I have

family coming next weekend), and I was happy to see several of my co-workers in the second (which of course means the front) row. I think they probably like seeing their names in print, so thanks to Maggie, Rachel, Mary, Anneice (and daughter/mayoral candidate Cheryl), Martina, and June for coming.

We all enjoyed having special music by Second's Celtic ensemble. They accompanied our last hymn, one of our favorites from the YAV orientation at Ghost Ranch, "Canticle of the Turning," giving new meaning to the musical term "prestissimo." We also sang the spiritual "I'm Gonna Live So God Can Use Me" with some fairly swinging piano accompaniment by yours truly, which included a little glissando action. Who knew I would include so many musical terms in this post? The service also included a favorite song of mine as the response to the assurance of forgiveness, "Goodness is Stronger Than Evil," which is from the prayerbook of Archbishop Desmond Tutu of South Africa, and set to music by John Bell of the Iona Community in Scotland. I hear there is a recording of the service out there, so if I can figure out how to do it, maybe I will be able to put audio of the service on here.

Here are a few of our sermons from last Sunday's NEP service, based on Micah 6 (What does the Lord require of you?...) and James 2 (faith without works is dead...):

PATRICK:

He has shown you, O people, what is good and what the Lord requires of you;
But to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God.

Show me your faith apart from your works, and by my works I will show you my faith.

Love your neighbor as yourself.

“Mr. Patrick, can I get on your back?”
“Yeah, but we have go to reading.”

For the past ten months I have witnessed the faithful, God-inspired dreams and actions of volunteers and children alike at Preston Taylor Ministries. At PTM, our ministry is to provide free-of-charge, a faith-rooted, educationally-based after-school and summer program for the children of the Preston Taylor public housing community. Over the last 10 months I have succeeded and failed at inspiring God’s children to reach outside of themselves and brush back all the influences that want them to fail. God calls us to “walk humbly,” something that’s easy to say, but harder to put into practice.

When you walk humbly with your Lord, you might wind up in some interesting places, like among the swirling entropy that is 75 children in a converted fellowship hall who aren’t entirely sold on the idea they’ve gathered after school to improve their academic skills. Further along this walk you develop relationships with children who are growing up in an environment that was completely foreign to you during your own upbringing. You wonder where your walk is going and sometimes you might even lose sight of God. But God doesn’t lose sight of you.

Eventually you realize that walking with God means walking with these children, helping them however you can. In the 10 months I’ve worked with PTM, I’ve seen us open up a new building, expand our lunch mate mentoring program, and grow our after-school program to serve over 75 children. The difference we make doesn’t just show up in improved reading scores, it shows up in positive attitudes, and a better outlook on life. I get the privilege to see new, healthy friendships formed among the children, better report cards, and big wide smiles when come in holding their science fair trophies saying “Look Mr. Patrick, I won… my project got first place!” However, the hardest part of my job is dealing with the fact that I probably will never know what happens to most of children I serve. I just do the best I can while I’m here… I pray for the children… and I have to trust the rest to God.

Places like PTM are successful because they are blessed with a wealth of volunteers that come from churches like Second that are answering the call spelled out by God through prophets and apostles like Micah and James: The call is to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with our God.

I’m glad my walk brought me here, to Second Pres, and to PTM.
When I tell people I meet that I’m working with a church mission program, a logical follow-up question for them to ask is, “So are you going to be a minister?”

The truth is that we are the ministry, all of us together, whether we’re in the pulpit or in the pews. Consider this your friendly reminder that we are all charged to be ministers and to live out our call as children of the resurrection.

What does your ministry look like?

CHASIE:

Good morning. This year I have been working at the Martha O’Bryan Center. This congregation supports MOB in many ways, so many of you are familiar with it, but for those of you who aren’t it is a Christian community center in the middle of Nashville’s oldest and largest public housing development. My time there has been divided two ways. I work with adults in the GED class in the mornings and then help with the after-school program for youth in the afternoons.

One of the ways in which I have seen God at work this year has been through the people I work with at MOB. I came into this year straight from having worked in the emergency room at a county hospital the summer before. Optimistic to begin with, I had been excited about my job as what they called a critical care representative. One of the biggest parts of the job was to care for families in the waiting room as they waited to see their patient. What an opportunity for God to use me to comfort others in a time of need. And how wonderful to be working with other people trying to do the same thing.

I quickly came to realize, though, that although my coworkers had good intentions, the 12 hour shifts and the weight of working in such a fast paced and stressful environment for years had changed the way in which they interacted with people. I was disappointed and upset to frequently see how employees had lost their patience and/or empathy for the people there.
In order to keep things under control and orderly in the waiting room, certain rules had to be enforced. I saw these rules being enforced with no attention to the specific situation or person being helped, which, of course, defeated the purpose of what critical care representatives were supposed to be doing. People waiting to be seen became just another patient with the same old symptoms that we had seen day after day, and families became just another group of demanding people to deal with.

I left this experience not knowing how in the world you could work in such a place and not become so cynical and hardened. I began to think that my optimistic belief that people could be treated on a case-to-case basis was naive and unrealistic and that real business could not be run that way.

Coming to MOB, though, I noticed a difference in attitude from the first day I was there. Not only did I see volunteers listening to clients, but everyone from the COO was involved in even the simplest tasks like getting a person a bus pass.

It may seem like an odd comparison to make, but MOB is actually similar to the emergency room. You never know who is going to walk in. The problems presented each day tend to be very similar in nature. And there is always someone new in need of help.

It would be simple and understandable for the teacher of an adult education class to drop a student from the role for, at best, sporadic attendance. After all, there are always people waiting to enroll in the class and everyone seems to have an excuse for why they haven’t shown up.
Even in situations that seem as simple as this, though, I think Christ asks us to live differently, and I saw this in the teacher of the adult education class, Judy. She is the only teacher for a class of about 30 adults, and she will tell you that after working with the class for an extended period of time, the issues that students bring to class with them do not seem new or unusual. But she would also tell you that to help students be successful you have to take the time to listen to their individual stories. For example, it may be unacceptable for a woman to miss a week of class unexcused. But when she comes back and explains that she, as an 18 year old single mother of one child and pregnant with twins, has been living in a house with 13 other people where she sleeps on the floor, you begin to see that her situation isn’t so simple. Because she feels suffocated and like the place she is living isn’t sanitary enough to bring twins home to she is trying to find her own housing. All this at the same time as trying to get her GED because she is afraid she won’t have time after the children are born.

So, yes, she could be dropped from the class, and no one could argue, but Judy takes the time to hear her story and see what she can do to help make it possible for her to get to the center and reach her goal before her children are born.

Cases such as this may seem extreme and like they clearly deserve to be an exception. There are many others, though, that are not, and still I have watched as Judy loves each person. The student who is dismissed from class for starting a verbal fight is welcomed back the next day for another chance at learning. The student who disrespects the teacher and then quits the class re enrolls a year later and is greeted with the same enthusiasm and respect.

This way of doing things requires more time and energy, and it is often unclear as to what the appropriate action is to take. But this is what Christ asks us to do. He tells us to act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God. When we humbly ask for God’s guidance, God gives us the wisdom and perseverance to love others as Christ would.

JEFF:

A few weeks ago, I had my annual consultation with the Committee on Preparation for Ministry from my home presbytery. At that meeting, where they were eager to hear how my year as a Young Adult Volunteer working with the homeless at the Campus for Human Development had gone, I was asked a question. It was asked by the same pastor who asked that first basic question to me two years ago in my initial meeting with the CPM, “Why do you feel called to ministry?” Then, after my long, flowery response, she said, “I notice you didn’t mention God at all in that answer.”

This time, she asked, “how has your image of God changed this year?” The answer I gave to that question has really worked as a good way of summing up the experience that I have had over the past ten months.

A year ago, I was finishing up my tenure as a college student and a church music director. My image of God was basically the result of my involvement in the church and my ministry of music. It had a lot to do with community, and a lot to do with majesty. I was also big into social justice as a concept, although I really had experienced very little direct contact with the poor of this world, which has a lot to do with why I wanted to become a Young Adult Volunteer.

Now that my daily life is filled with talk of food stamps, government checks, free lunches and day labor – and that I’ve seen things I had never seen: the horrifying decay of bodies from drug use, men hitting their girlfriends right in front of my eyes, and people dumped by hospitals with no place to go and no resources to provide for their own health – and that I’ve experienced things I never thought I would: breaking up fights, consoling a grieving partner of a man who died from a drug overdose, and even intercepting a drug deal or two – my picture of God has changed.

One day in November, just after the beginning of the Room In The Inn season, we were sitting in the day room at the Campus, and a crowd was really starting to grow. As is often the case, there was a lot of noise and chaos. In the middle of the room sat Leonard, a man who was with us for only a few weeks. Leonard, who dressed in green camo pants and jacket, complete with an orange vest, fuzzy hat and sunglasses, suffered from severe mental illness, and often talked to the staff about he was going to go hunt for owls in Montana. He took special care, and sometimes after a long day, a conversation with Leonard was the last thing I wanted to provoke. That afternoon, as more and more people crowded into the day room, Leonard raised his head and spoke in a loud voice, “Jesus? Is Jesus Christ in this room? Is Jesus Christ in this room?”

The whole room went quiet for a few seconds, and then everything went back to normal, with a few people laughing at what was a clearly mentally ill man. I laughed too, because it was the last thing I was expecting anyone to say. But, it was a question that has stayed with me in my experience this year.

The answer to Leonard’s question is yes. Jesus Christ was in that room, and I have met Jesus Christ in many unexpected places this year.

I always feel the presence of the suffering Christ on that walk to The Guest House, where we allow publicly intoxicated people to come for a warm bed and a meal.

Christ has been there in internet class, when people have reestablished contact with loved ones after learning the skill of e-mailing.

Christ is there when I hear stories from the men in alcohol and drug treatment who tell of experiencing feelings and emotions that they haven’t felt for years, having smothered them for too long with substance abuse.

I see the Christ whose only bed was a feeding trough on early mornings when I see people sleeping on the ground in rolls of thrown-out carpet scraps.

God has become, for me, one who meets us in the alley: a loving creator who still walks among us in what Jesus called “the least of these.”

* * * * * * * * *

About 5,000 times this year, we in NEP have been confronted with Fredrick Beuchner’s definition of vocation. He says, “The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.”

When God calls us, it is not always to comfortable sanctuaries like this one, it is not typically to mountaintops where beautiful sunsets speak to us like burning bushes, it is not to minister among those who have it all. Rather, we are continually called to the table where bread and wine bear witness to the sacrifice that was born to fulfill the world’s deepest hunger. We are called to a simple dinner table, where deep gladness abounds between its guests, many of whom we’ve met this year:
those who are hated for the cultures and races to which they belong,
those who do work for long hours and little pay,
children whose parents are too young and too absent,
single mothers who struggle to put food on the table,
those trapped in the bonds of mental illness and addiction,
families torn by violence,
those whose language makes them second-class,
and women and men who sleep on cardboard in downtown alleyways.

It is at this table of God, where distinctions between those who are served and those who are serving blur and disappear, where we are called to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with the God who lives among us in one another. To this table we are called, this table where God is turning the world as we know it on its head, where the reign of God is in the here and now. Thanks be to God. Amen.

Human Development

2007-06-29T23:29:00.000-05:00

One of the most hope-filled principles upon which our work at the Campus is built is the belief that every person is capable of making positive changes in his or her life. One of the most fulfilling things we get to see is positive change being made. This can be as simple as when one of our more severely mentally ill participants progresses from refusing to take a shower at all to being coerced to take a shower by a persistent staff member, to signing himself up to take a shower every morning. It can start when we have one of those back hallway conversations with someone that starts with something like, “We’ve noticed that you aren’t looking too good lately. Is everything alright?” and then the tears of pain and regret start flowing.

Some of the best opportunities I’ve had this year to see positive changes have been the times when I’ve been able to work with the men in the recovery programs that the Campus sponsors or partners with.

Every Friday afternoon, I gather with a dozen or so men, ranging in age from 19-late 50s, who are in the Metro Health Department Downtown Clinic’s alcohol and drug treatment program. They live at the Campus’s Guest House facility and attend classes together during the day at both the Campus and Downtown Clinic next door. Typically, they come to Harry’s A&D (alcohol and drug) class, which is pretty much an AA/NA meeting, in the afternoons. On Fridays, we do anger management. I was a little unsure about what teaching a class like this would be like, since I’m fairly inexperienced in things like that, but it has become a nice way to end the week. We begin each session by going around the room and sharing the time during the week that our anger meter registered the highest number. The anger meter is a way to make thinking about anger more concrete by assigning a number from 1-10 to the level of anger one is feeling at any given moment. A 1 is no anger, while a 10 is an explosive amount of anger that results in negative consequences such as violence, jail, and losing friends and family. We talk about the situations that made us angry, and the ways that we tried to diffuse our own anger. I usually present the topic for the day, then give a brief homework assignment, and an hour after we started, I’m letting them out the door.

Dealing with the anger that often comes with recovery from drug and alcohol is an important step in making positive changes. The men I work with often tell stories of anger that’s caused by dealing with the families from which they’re separated, and the mistakes they’ve made in their own lives. Taking a “timeout,” going for a short walk, or talking to a friend or sponsor rather than acting out in violence can be the beginning of a new way of living for these men.

Speaking of new ways of living, our long-term homelessness recovery program, Odyssey, is another place where personal change is lived out in a big way. Men are basically taken from the street and go through a multi-year program of classes and community living that restores their ability to work and live independently. The men in phase 2 of Odyssey, who began the program in November, just completed their Campus internships. Several of them interviewed for intern positions to work alongside regular Campus staff members. Maggie and I supervised David, who worked in the store. I also worked closely with Eddie, who I never cease to give a hard time, and who worked with the shower program, Katron, who worked with the facilities team, and Chris, who worked with Amanda on the administration team. Seeing the dedication that these guys put into the jobs we gave them, no matter how menial they might have seemed, was inspiring. When they begin regular work in the next few weeks, this enthusiasm and dedication will come in handy.

I had the opportunity last week to attend a retreat with the Odyssey guys for an evening. They spent their retreat hard at work, attending workshops and activities, at Henry Horton State Park, between Nashville and Huntsville. They wanted some of the Campus staff to come down to spend some time with the guys, so Maggie, Amanda and I drove down for a Thursday evening. We helped with the cookout for dinner, and then drove to the far side of the park to make banana boats. At dark, we returned to the meeting facility for devotions, led by Mary. She used the familiar passage from Micah 6, “what does the Lord require of you? Do justice, love kindly and walk humbly with your God.” The topic was humility, and we discussed how sometimes the greatest winners in life aren’t really winners in the end. Walking humbly isn’t something that’s admired in our culture, and often doing just that is the first step to making a better life.

At the end of the service, Charlie led us in a service of anointing. First, he marked our foreheads with oil as a sign of blessing for our own lives. After that, we went around the circle, and marked one another’s palms with oil in the sign of the cross as a blessing for service to others. What a change. I remember working with many of these men in the fall when I first arrived at the Campus. They were part of the general homeless population, where walking humbly often gets you nowhere but trampled. Now, ten months later, they have developed into people able to look outside of their own needs a little bit and be commissioned to serve others. Seeing changes in people like this is a bit like catching a glimpse of God’s creative activity in the world, always renewing us, transforming us into an image more and more reflective of our creator. Thanks be to God.

Serenity Prayer

God, grant us the serenity to accept things we cannot change,
courage to change the things we can,
and wisdom to know the difference.

Photos from the Odyssey retreat.

Democracy

2007-06-24T22:42:00.000-05:00

Last Wednesday morning, the Campus played host to four of the candidates for mayor of Nashville. They had spent the night participating in an “Urban Plunge” with the Nashville Homeless Power Project, an organization of homeless and formerly homeless people working to organize for advocacy and change. The Urban Plunge experience was meant to give the candidates (Buck Dozier, Karl Dean, Howard Gentry and David Briley participated) a small taste of the experience that homeless people live every day. After participating in the night’s activities, which included an altercation at the Nashville Rescue Mission for David Briley, and being forcibly removed from a downtown restaurant for Vice Mayor Howard Gentry, they gathered for breakfast at the Campus followed by a press conference where they took questions from our participants.

Here is a link to a post from Liberadio, which includes full audio of the press conference at the Campus, and interviews with candidates and those who accompanied them: http://www.liberadio.com/2007/06/20/im-not-homeless-but-i-play-one-on-tv/

Associated Press article: http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20070620/ap_on_re_us/homeless_candidates_2

Tennessean article:
http://www.tennessean.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20070621/NEWS01/706210376

Homeless Power Project:
http://www.homelesspower.org/

The press conference at the Campus (Photo: AP)

David Briley looking very not homeless talking to some of our guys. (Photo: AP)

Campus participants William and Anthony accompanying Vice Mayor Howard Gentry during the Urban Plunge (Photo: AP)

The wider YAV world

2007-06-23T21:12:00.000-05:00

While I was distracting myself while trying to write something for my five minute portion of our group sermon for tomorrow's NEP worship service at Second, I saw a post on another Young Adult Volunteer's blog that I thought was worth sharing. It's Psalm 23 lived out in real life on the US-Mexico border as seen through pictures and words from Andrea Leonard, serving as a YAV in Tucson.

http://www.xanga.com/andreaintucson/595823657/migrant-trail-walk-2007.html

Here's a page from the PCUSA National Volunteers Office with links to the blogs and newsletters of this year's national YAVs: http://www.pcusa.org/nvo/youngadultvolunteers/yavcommunity.htm

PNS: Landmark Nashville church dedicates new building

2007-06-08T13:11:00.000-05:00

Article from Presbyterian News Service:

http://www.pcusa.org/pcnews/2007/07336.htm

One Foundation

2007-06-04T22:27:00.000-05:00

It was a folding chair kind of Sunday at Second yesterday. The many events involved in dedicating the church’s new facilities drew many people—probably 400 at the main church service, considering that the sanctuary holds 380 people—including guests from the community, members of the media, former pastors, staff members and musicians. It was a full day’s worth of activities; I was there for almost seven hours. The day was an honor to be a part of, and I’m sure it was much more special for those who have been around since the September 17, 2003 fire. I’ve only been around for the fun parts of this journey—writing my name on the concrete sub floor, being here for the last few months of worship in the activity center and witnessing the first Sunday in the new sanctuary and the completion of the new organ. I have seen this congregation’s identity change so much since the first time I worshipped here. Second has changed from a community primarily marked by the tragedy of the fire to a community whose mission of involvement in the community has been restored.

The day started with me trying to figure out how to play “His Banner over Me is Love.” I was asked to play the piano for the little kids who were going to sing it in church. We didn’t have any music for it, so I was playing off some chord symbols I scrawled on a piece of junk mail from listening to the rendition by the Cedarmont Kids I downloaded from iTunes. After I got everything figured out for the most part, it was off to Sunday School, where the first in a series of visits from mayoral candidates was happening. Karl Dean spoke to us for the hour and took questions. I had met him a few weeks earlier when he came to Second for church as guests of some of our members. He was pretty impressive, and I will probably support either him or David Briley, who is coming next week to speak. Now I just need to register to vote. Bob Clement will be coming in July, after a long time of not being willing since he wouldn’t have the ability to pre-screen the questions, and the other two campaigns haven’t committed yet.

A very large crowd gathered for the one morning worship service we had at 11:00. We remembered the past, and celebrated the present, and looked to the future. I was able to manage remembering how “His Banner over Me” went and played “Little Children Come unto Me” from memory, which I also had trouble doing before the service. The preacher for the day was Rev. Steve Hancock, from Little Rock, who was Second’s Pastor for most of the 1990s. Also present were former pastor Ben Sparks, who used to edit the Presbyterian Outlook, and former associate pastors Kim Rodrigue and Stacy Rector. During communion, we used my favorite liturgy, which remembers those who make our bread, and used communion ware that dated from the 1840s, and which was stolen at one point by the Union army. Long-time members of the church served communion, which was quite moving.

After church, we gathered outside and in the activity center for a great lunch. I sat with some of my friends from the Nashville Homeless Power Project who I know from the Campus, one of whom is formerly homeless and the other who is currently homeless. The formerly homeless woman attended Second as a child, growing up in an upper middle class Green Hills family, and her parents were married in Second's previous building. They came as representatives of that organization since they receive mission grant money from Second. After lunch, we were invited to go to a different space in the church where different dedication liturgies would be read concurrently: the choir room, Peaceable Kingdom, fellowship hall, steeple, etc. I chose the cyber café. We read stories of Jesus offering the gift of food and fellowship to the disciples and said a brief prayer of dedication for that new space, which includes a great sound and lighting system for performances, as well as lots of coffee making supplies that we have all been enjoying on Sunday mornings.

After the dedication of the various spaces of the church, the whole group gathered outside under the steeple. I was a part of the procession into the new sanctuary, which was led by a bagpiper. We stopped outside the sanctuary doors and read a liturgy for the opening of the doors, then sang “To God Be The Glory” as we entered. The afternoon service, which was the formal dedication, was very nice. The main portion included prayers of dedication for different parts of the sanctuary: the pulpit, font, and table. The organist, Nancy Turner, and I together led the prayer of dedication for the piano and organ. Then the entire assembly raised their hands and read a prayer of dedication for the entire sanctuary. A liturgical dancer interpreted the psalm, the choir sang a fantastic anthem written by our interim choir director Greg Gunther, and Jim preached a great sermon on holy vessels. At the end, we sang one of my favorite hymns, “The Church’s One Foundation.”

Instead of a normal postlude, there was an organ dedication concert, which I was invited to play in, along with three others: Dr. Douglas Murray from First Pres., Dr. Polly Brecht from Westminster Pres., and our organist Nancy Turner. I played some of my normal pieces, selections from Timothy Albrecht’s Grace Notes, Joe Utterback’s “Spirit of God Descend Upon My Heart” from The Jazz Gospel, and Karg-Elert’s Now Thank We All Our God. Things were going well until I lost one of the photocopied pages that I had made so I wouldn’t have to turn pages. It probably wasn’t my best performance ever, but lots of people said nice things afterward.

Second has made for itself a home where its sense of mission is literally built into its new spaces. From the spaces provided for spiritual reflection, like the prayer room and the children’s worship room, to a sanctuary that reflects our Presbyterian heritage, being in the shape of a Celtic cross, to spaces intentionally designed for hosting our Room In The Inn guests, Second Presbyterian is speaking its commitment to bringing forth God’s reign in this time and place.

Almighty God, we dedicate this place to your worship, that in prayer and praise, in Word and Sacrament, we may know your will and experience your peace and power in our lives. Let this be a place of refuge for those who suffer or sorrow, a fortress for those besieged by temptation, a beacon to light the way in darkness. May we enter your gates with thanksgiving and come into your courts with praise. Trusting in Jesus Christ, we dedicate this sanctuary in your name, you who are the Alpha and Omega, the Beginning and the End. Amen.

As we dedicate this place, O God, we rededicate our lives to the service of Jesus Christ, your Son, our Lord, to whom with you and the Holy Spirit be all honor and glory now and forever. Amen.

You can get my autograph if you want

2007-06-03T21:37:00.000-05:00

Check out www.wkrn.com and click on 'A New Beginning for a Church Family' on the video part of the front page. I can't get the video to work from the story about Second's church dedication, but it will work from the main page.

Tennessean Message of the Week

2007-06-02T21:27:00.000-05:00

Message of the Week: Fire tested church's faith, made its people stronger

By THE REV. JIM KITCHENS

It was certainly not a call I would have ever expected.
My wife and I were asleep in a hotel in Bakersfield, Calif., having just left our home near Sacramento on a journey to our new home in Nashville and my new call as pastor of Second Presbyterian Church.

When the cell phone rang at 5:30 a.m., my wife dived for it, thinking one of our daughters was calling. And if she was calling that early in the morning, something had to be wrong.
It was not a daughter on the line but something WAS wrong. The chair of the pastor nominating committee from Second was on the phone.
"Jim," she told me, "the church burned down this morning."
continue reading...

A Week Off

2007-06-02T17:06:00.000-05:00

I had been planning to take a week of at some point this spring and go back to Indiana. I finally settled on Memorial Day week as the time to do it. I did take the week off, though going to Indiana didn’t end up happening. It was a really good week, nonetheless, and I’m glad I took a little time off to recharge the proverbial batteries. Here’s a little run down of the week.

MEMORIAL DAY
This was the first Memorial Day weekend I have spent away from the good ole Hoosier state with all its Indy 500 madness. There were lots of people in church here, unlike in Indiana where everybody takes a Sunday off on “race day.” We celebrated the day by going to a picnic at Susan’s house on Monday evening, where her son Kyle, who recently suffered the injustice of not being hired by multiple Kroger stores because he is only 15, entertained us by giving us a real behind-the-scenes look at NEP.

THE WEST WING
My primary goal for the week was to watch as many episodes from season 2 of The West Wing as possible. I think I made it through nine of them and saw some of my favorites, like “In This White House” where the delegation from Africa comes and discusses AIDS medication with US pharmaceutical companies, and “Shibboleth,” a great Thanksgiving episode that focuses on a group of Chinese refugees who arrive in the US to flee religious persecution, while parallels are made with the Mayflower pilgrims. The West Wing was my favorite show, and is actually one of the main reasons I ended up majoring in political science. One day my mom said, “You like watching the West Wing, why don’t you study politics?” And so that’s what I did.

"WOOT CANAW"
One episode of The West Wing that I didn’t get around to watching is the one where C.J. has to get the emergency root canal and can’t do the press briefings because she can’t pronounce anything correctly. I did have my own experience in the dentist’s chair this week. I actually had something called a pulpal debridement, which is the first step in a full root canal. I had been experiencing some tooth pain (enough that I didn’t sleep at all one night a few weeks ago and had to miss work), and went to see a dentist that Fred from work (a retired dentist) set me up with. This Wednesday’s procedure was actually very enjoyable, with no pain whatsoever either during or after. It was my first experience with nitrous oxide, which made things fun. I just remember, all while these two people were digging around in my mouth drilling and probably doing horrible things, hearing the TV that was on and they kept playing this commercial for Cirque de Soliel’s “Delirium” show that is coming to Nashville. At the end of it they would say “coming to the Gaylord Entertainment Center” and I would just keep saying in my head, “it’s the Sommet Center now! It’s the Sommet Center!”

AIN'T NO SMOGGY SMOKE ON ROCKY TOP?
Part of the week in Nashville included a lot of thick haze and a bad smell. It turned out there were some wildfires burning in South Georgia, and the smoke was drifting up here. It smelled very plainly like smoke and it was even hard to make out the downtown skyline from fairly close on Wednesday morning. Things eventually cleared up a bit, even though it’s just been plain old hazy like summer time.

VEV VISITOR
One of the best parts of the week was a visit from Rev. Jim Ellison from the Volunteers Exploring Vocation program of the Fund for Theological Education and the Lilly Foundation. He came to find out as much as he could about the NEP program. VEV works with ten different denominational volunteer programs (Presbyterians, Episcopalians, Lutherans, Mennonites, Jesuits, etc.). He had several meetings with people involved in NEP, and he toured each of our sites. On Thursday evening he took the four of us out to dinner at Bricktops, a nice place on West End. It was great to have a chance to think about the program we were in and do some reflection with him, since it is so easy to get bogged down in everyday life.

POV CPM @ LPTS
On Friday morning, after a meeting to plan our NEP worship service (which is on June 24 for those who are interested), I headed up I-65 to Louisville, where the Presbytery of Ohio Valley’s Committee on Preparation for Ministry was awaiting me for my annual consultation with them. I got there, got checked into my room at Laws Lodge at Louisville Seminary, and headed downstairs to wait my turn to meet with them. The meeting went very well and the committee seemed excited about the direction I am taking and about the experiences I have had this year. They took us to dinner, after which we went back to the seminary for a time with Mark Tammen, the PCUSA’s Director of Constitutional Services from the Office of the General Assembly. He talked to us about the inquirer-candidate-ordination process and also the implications of the Peace-Unity-Purity actions by the most recent General Assembly, which are actually very minimal. After that, we were led by Martha Friz-Langer in lectio divina, followed by a simple communion service in the lodge lobby. I then enjoyed a night in a queen sized bed.

NERVOUS CHARLIE'S
There are so many interesting things between Louisville and Nashville. The three hour drive is shortened by the anticipation of such fantastic things as seeing the signs for the various tourist attractions in Kentucky such as Kentucky Dinosaur World, where life-sized dinosaur replicas roam the hills of Western Kentucky. There are the numerous billboards reminding me to accept Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior and that “Hell is HOT.” I was glad that there was one with the Ten Commandments listed, because I was planning to break some of them and seeing them listed in 2-foot tall letters along I-65 stopped me from leading a life of sin. Just north of Nashville there are many signs for “Nervous Charlie’s: Fireworks, Gas and Beer.” I can understand why Charlie would be so nervous with that combo.

SECOND LIFE CELEBRATION
My week off will end in a big way tomorrow with the day-long dedication festivities for Second Presbyterian’s new facilities. The fancy bulletins are ready, dinner for 400 is being prepared, the grass has been cut, the Juget-Sinclair guys have returned from Montreal to put some finishing touches on the organ, and I’ve about got my pieces ready to play for the dedication recital. It should be a red-letter day for the church, as it ends a nearly four-year long process of recovery and rebuilding from the September 2003 fire.

WIND AND FIRE

2007-05-27T23:24:00.000-05:00

As of this Thursday, there are but two months to go in this eleven-month journey of the Nashville Epiphany Project. Come September 1, there will be some new Young Adult Volunteers moving into the Toolshed and the four of us will be moving on. An important part of this year’s experience we have participated in a program of vocational discernment, which is a program of exploring what God is calling us to do in our lives. A simple explanation might be the question “what am I going to do when I grow up?” A truthful answer to that question based on the principles we have used this year is “lots of things, probably.”

The four of us in NEP have used this year to learn more about the concept of vocation and to put these ideas to work in our own lives as we have tried to discern where we are called to be over the long term, and the short term. We have learned that most often, an accurate vision of the long term is not realistic, and making decisions based on what we feel called to in the moment is often the best strategy. So, that is what we have done in planning our lives as they will look come August 1 after this year of service is over.

Patrick and Chasie are still trying to discern what they will be doing. Patrick will be returning to Texas where his girlfriend Sarah is, and he is looking for an engineering job in Austin. Chasie and Tara will be staying here in Nashville. Chasie is looking for a job somewhere, while Tara has accepted a position at Conexión Americas, where she was working this year. She has spent the last several weeks weighing her options and now plans to defer her admission to Vanderbilt Divinity School until the fall of 2008. Chasie and Tara are looking for an apartment together.

And now: the news you’ve all been waiting for.

(drum roll…)

As for me, as has been typical for me, I am not following the well scripted plans that I had made for myself. I am doing something that I had never even thought of as a possibility a year ago. I will be staying here in Nashville and will continue my work at the Campus for Human Development. I initially asked about the possibility of staying in April. I got an immediate yes, which I was happy about, and I was given the opportunity to think about what role I’d like to take and create my own job description.

I will primarily be continuing the work I have been doing this year as a member of the education team. Those activities—staffing the support desk, running the education center, and offering basic hospitality—will take the majority of my time.

The other part of my job will be a new position for the Campus: for Spirituality Programming. In the job description I wrote, I included the following paragraph that described why I wanted to add this to what the Campus offers.

“The type of spirituality that seems to be most often presented to the homeless is a narrower version of religion than the one that underlies our core values: spirituality, love, hospitality, respect, hope, community and non-violence. Religion is often used as a way to earn help, and as a basis for feelings of moral superiority, dividing people into groups rather than uniting them into one body of people made in the image of the divine. The spirituality we express is born out of a belief common to many faiths that God is love. The expressions of our spirituality, though necessarily religious in nature, should always seek to include rather than exclude and offer unconditional love rather than narrow dogma.”

I will be starting a weekly (or possibly more frequent) “chapel” service. I might come up with a more creative name later. These brief services will give people a chance for people to reconnect spiritually. I want to use art, music, readings, prayer and silence to allow our homeless participants to express themselves spiritually. I plan to recruit other staff members and outside guests to lead these services whenever possible.

I’ll also be organizing a program for our interns, so they might have a chance to reflect more deeply on the work we do and the experiences we share. This was actually prompted by Jana, who was an intern along with me at the Campus this year, when she said that she wished we would have had more of an opportunity to explore the bigger issues, like “should I give a homeless person on the street money if they ask?” [Funny story—at this point in writing this entry, the four of us just went to eat at Chili’s on West End. As we were walking out, a presumably homeless guy asked the girls how much he could pay them for the boxes of carry out they were carrying. His strategy was excellent, since they both, as most somewhat nice people would do, just said “oh, you can just have them!” And then the guy asked me for a dollar or two so he could go in and buy a drink. I said “no, I don’t think so,” because I have answered the above question about whether or not to give people money on the streets for myself. Plus, if he was going to buy the food from the girls originally, why did he need money for a drink? Okay, back to the blog entry…]

Other plans I have for our spirituality programming include giving our participants an opportunity to serve other people. As an example of a way this has already been done, after Hurricane Katrina, our participants were able to use the points they accumulated from attending classes, which they would normally use in our store to buy something for themselves, to buy bottled water to be sent to the Gulf Coast. This would give people a sense of purpose and help break the cycle of using religion as a means to getting help (you have to go to services to spend the night at the Mission) or as a strategy to solve all of their problems (i.e. “if I become a Christian, then all my problems will be gone and I’ll quit drinking). Also, I am going to try and facilitate ways for participants to express their own senses of spirituality through art, music, and creativity. Giving them a voice to communicate with the outside world is also a goal, which might include something like a Campus blog or enhancing participation in the newsletter that we put out.

So, you might ask, have I given up on seminary? No. I am still on the “ordination track,” and I have my annual consultation with my presbytery’s Committee on Preparation for Ministry this coming weekend in Louisville. One thing I have learned through vocational discernment this year is to not try and look too far down the road. I still see theological education in my future. I don’t know whether that will be a year from now or 30 years from now. In the meantime, I will be discerning the next step on the journey. And for now, that next step is alongside the homeless in Nashville, Tennessee.

* * * * * * * * * * *

At the end of this morning’s Pentecost worship service, Jim took a vial of oil that he had used during his sermon and offered people the chance to come forward and be anointed. Presbyterians don’t typically do much anointing, but we did a little this morning. As he marked the sign of the cross on our foreheads, he said “receive the Holy Spirit.” He also personalized each person’s anointing. To me, he said something like “May the Spirit of God be with you in your work at the Campus and through you may God touch those with whom you work.” May it be so.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

We remember that your church
was born in wind and fire,
not to sweep us heavenward
like a presumptuous tower,
but to guide us down
the dusty roads of this world
so that we may lift up the downcast,
heal the broken,
reconcile what is lost,
and bring peace amidst unrest.

-Garth House, Litanies for all Occasions

If I had a hammer

2007-05-25T20:44:00.000-05:00

At work, we have a terrible time keeping the support desk area clean or neat in any way, shape, or form. Part of the reason for this is that we have a continuous stream of things being given to us. Today, our participants were especially generous, as for some reason, there were gifts rolling in all day. I thought the pile of gifts we had sitting around this morning was an especially nice collection worthy of sharing with the outside world.

We had two weapon-like objects turned over to us: some pruning shears and a hammer. (Both of those are less dangerous than the machete that somebody gave us last week after he confiscated it from a friend who had been drinking and waving it around in the alley.) The pruning shears were handed to me by a guy who came in looking a little bit like Liberace the other day (complete with a paper napkin ascot and a sparkly vest with flowers in his lapel).

There was also a nice bouquet of flowers given to Mary by a man trying to make nice which came from poor soul's flower bed. A man gave Amanda a rose, and there was the stuffed animal of the reindeer-dog from The Grinch Who Stole Christmas that Maggie got as a gift on Monday. One of our guys who is into leather work made a couple of woven leather keychains for us too. These things are in addition to the several pieces of hard candy that we usually get in a week.

I work in a strange place.

Ode to Mom

2007-05-13T18:17:00.000-05:00

My mom has good reason to be nervous on Mother's Day. That's because probably 75% of the Mother's Day gifts she has received from her children have been the types of gifts that few other moms receive. I've heard that many children give their mothers things like flowers, money, chocolates and jewelry. My mom was much luckier.

There was the series of two or three years where Brian, Sarah and I made videos for her. We'd get out the video camera and put together something hillarious. There was that one time when we reenacted on video footage of our births. (Of course there was no such thing as home video cameras when I was born, but that's another story...) The images of us prentending to be my mom giving birth to our cat, Ranger, who bit the dust this past winter, still haunt all who saw them. There's the video we made of our parents' wedding where I wore one of Dad's sport coats and held a mop with a veil on it while Brian married us. I think he said something like "in hickness and sealth as long as you both shall live," if I remember correctly. We put together some elaborate set-ups where I pretended to be the host of a tv show and sat next to our tv where we had another video playing that we had made. It was pretty high tech for a bunch of elementary school kids. I just remember that we always made Mom cry when we gave these videos to her. I think the tears came from laughing so hard, but they probably were also the result of thoughts like "why did my kids turn out this way?"

There were also the times where our Mother's Day gifts came from shopping sprees at Big Lots or the Dollar General. We would usually load up and go to the dollar store in the worst area of town where the items were sure to be the junkiest and load her up with an assortment of strange items. One year we gave her a huge gift basket with probably 25 individually wrapped items such as a strange looking jar of peas and carrots, a cake mix printed in German, a video of firey car crashes, wrestling figurine toys, and a huge dented can of fruit cocktail. We also got her a plastic chicken (named _________, the chicken of love and happiness--does anybody remember her name?) that she embarrased us with by putting plastic flowers in it and putting it on our front porch.

Cheryl Moles. What a lucky woman.

I was hungry and you did not feed me…in prison and you did not visit me…

2007-05-13T18:06:00.000-05:00

While walking up the sidewalk leading into Holy Name Church in East Nashville the other night, a homeless man who recognized me from working at the Campus asked me if I knew where he could find dinner that night since he got off work too late to get into the Mission. Though I knew there was probably nobody left serving dinner to the homeless at almost 7:00pm, I felt a little bad that I didn’t know who else served dinner other than the Mission on Tuesday nights, and that I am not a great humanitarian like our site coordinator Susan who would have had a “Where to Find Help in Nashville” brochure and a granola bar handy.

Inside, people were gathering for an evening service of prayer for and solidarity with a man convicted of killing a Memphis police officer over 25 years ago. It was Philip Workman’s final night; he was executed at 1:38 a.m. that night at the Riverbend Maximum Security Prison in West Nashville. I was invited by Stacy Rector, our former associate pastor at Second who is now the executive director of TCASK (Tennessee Coalition to Abolish State Killing), to play the piano for the service at Holy Name. There were about sixty people present whose faith calls them to oppose killing by the state. I recognized many people among those assembled as Second members, volunteers and staff from the Campus and others I’ve seen at similar events.

The second preacher for the night, following Stacy, was Rev. Victor Singletary from First Baptist Church-Capitol Hill. I only knew of that church because they are on the list of places where people can go to get clothing if they need it. His message was a direct challenge to the Christian majority in our culture that is virtually silent on he types of social issues about which Jesus spoke. He talked about a woman from his own church who had received an email from him earlier in the week with an action alert from TCASK and an invitation to the prayer service on the eve of the Workman execution. She called the church the next day asking that her name be removed from the email list that sent messages like that, but she did request that she continue to receive notices about upcoming church events, teas, and social events. The woman from Rev. Singletary’s church is just one part of our broken Christian culture that has no use for the least of these among us. The call of the church is to become like Christ, who always used his voice to speak for those who were not allowed to use theirs. As Matthew 25 states, it is our duty to, together as the church, feed the hungry, quench the tongues of those who thirst, welcome strangers, clothe the naked, care for the sick, and visit those in prison. We are to pray for our enemies, rather than kill them, which was the message recently in a popular Terre Haute church. Christians have failed to vocally oppose war, the death penalty, and reforms of welfare that left many poor families to fend for themselves. It is our calling to not remain silent.

I don’t know whether or not Philip Workman killed a police officer. Even if he did, how does his life not fall under the category of being precious in the sight of God? Loving our enemies sometimes means siding with those who have done horrifying things.

In a strange twist to the end of Philip Workman’s story, the homeless ended up having more to eat that night. Workman requested for his last meal to be a vegetarian pizza delivered to a homeless person. Though the prison system denied that request, other people from around the country ordered hundreds of pizzas in Philip Workman’s name and had them delivered to places like the Nashville Rescue Mission and the Oasis Center. Even from our culture’s group mentality of vengeance and death can come mercy and food for the sustenance of life.

Related Links:

Tennessee Coalition to Abolish State Killing

CNN: Executed man's last request honored -- pizza for the homeless

"Teach me some melodious sonnet..."

2007-05-06T20:20:00.000-05:00

This morning’s worship at Second Pres. was one of the most moving worship experiences I have been a part of. It was the result of a Sunday School class that was one of the most popular at Second this past spring: “Music and Religious Identity at Second.” The class was taught by John McClure, a professor of homiletics at Vanderbilt Divinity School, who along with his wife Annie, currently serving as our interim associate pastor, is my mentor for this year in NEP. Incidentally, for those from Terre Haute, he taught and was friends with Lant Davis at Louisville Seminary. He designed a worship service today that would integrate music that expresses the congregation’s identity. Here is a link to an explanation of the service.

The service went like this:

RINGING OF THE BELL Brian Findley called us to worship by ringing a handbell
LIGHTING THE CHRIST CANDLE

WELCOME AND ANNOUNCEMENTS

PRELUDE: “Improvisation on ‘Morning Has Broken’” by Jeff Moles, piano

CALL TO WORSHIP
The first verse of “Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing” was sung responsively, with John singing a line, and the congregation answering back. Accompaniment was guitar, hammered dulcimer, and tin whistle.

OPENING HYMN: “Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing”
All three verses were sung, with the instruments listed earlier, with me on piano and Nancy on organ joining in this time. This was the first time the finished new organ was played in worship. Belmont student Alan Fey also joined in on Bodhran (a Celtic drum). This was the absolute highlight of worship for me. I loved looking at people’s faces during this hymn. The singing was outstanding.

CALL TO CONFESSION as water was poured in the baptismal font
PRAYER OF CONFESSION
As people continued in silent confession, “Appassionata” from Secret Garden’s album White Stones was played.

ASSURANCE OF PARDON led from the font

CONGREGATIONAL RESPONSE: “Amazing Grace”
This was one of the most moving parts of the service. Burkley Allen sang the first verse solo, being joined by her daughter Mary on the second. The congregation and choir sang a capella on the final three verses. It was a moment of quiet assurance of God’s grace.

A TIME FOR THE CHILDREN
“Little Children Come Unto Me” song by member Steve Siler.
Cathy Hoop led the children in a discussion about hymns and music, ended by their singing “Jesus Loves Me.” As the children exited, I played a short improvisation on “Great Is Thy Faithfulness” in the style of Steve Siler’s “Little Children Come Unto Me.”

PRAYER FOR ILLUMINATION

SCRIPTURE LESSON: Revelation 21: 1-6 (new Heaven and a new Earth…)

ANTHEM: “I Saw a New Heaven” by E.L. Bainton, sung by the choir

SERMON: The sermon was begun and ended by Annie McClure. In the middle, members of the Music and Religious Identity class presented the “liner notes” they had come up with to explain the significance of a favorite piece of music. Betty Orr began with the song “Down to the River to Pray” from O Brother, Where Art Thou, which reminded her of the a capella congregational singing of her past, and her baptism by immersion. Bob Crownover reflected on George Harrison’s “My Sweet Lord,” as a connection he had to God when his connection to the church waned during his youth. Jessica Riviere discussed the spiritual “Freedom is Coming,” which was a familiar song she heard in an unfamiliar place while living in Germany for a year, and included themes of justice and struggle for freedom.

MOMENT FOR SILENT REFLECTION

DEDICATION OF LIFE:
CALL FOR THE OFFERING
THE OFFERTORY: “Great Ektania” by Sergei Rachmaninov (recorded music)
DOXOLOGY: “Gloria” from the Taize Community, played by the full worship ensemble (2 guitars, percussion, piano, organ, bass)

INVITATION TO THE LORD’S TABLE
“Come people, come to the table of Christ. We will make a giant loaf…And we will bring many guests, the poor, the battered, the anxious, the weak, the lonely, the sick.”

THE GREAT THANKSGIVING and EUCHARISTIC PRAYER
THE SANCTUS: “Santo, Santo, Santo,” an Argentinean folk tune, put into Waltz time with a distinct touch of Nashville.

“In the fullness of time you sent Jesus, in every respect human as we are, to grow up in a small town in Galilee speaking with a distinct accent, far from the seat of religious and civil power. Beside Jacob’s well he was moved by an encounter with a minority woman to disclose his messianic identity.”

DISTRIBUTION OF THE ELEMENTS with people coming down the aisles to take communion by intinction.

MUSIC DURING COMMUNION was a very moving experience.
The choir, with soloists sang “Down to the Water to Pray.” It gave me chills when the drum came in as I was standing in line to receive communion. After that, the South African freedom song “Freedom is Coming” was sung by the choir.

PRAYER OF THANKSGIVING

At this point in the 11:00 service, the little glass topper to the Christ candle fell and broke, perhaps signifying that the light of Christ could not be contained. Or, maybe the candle had just melted too much.

SONG OF RESPONSE: “Day by Day” from Godspell with the congregation singing along with the band

BENEDICTION from Annie

THE CONGREGATIONAL RESPONSE: refrain from “Here I Am, Lord”

POSTLUDE: “My Sweet Lord” by George Harrison (of Beatles fame) performed by the band

Tour de Nashville

2007-05-03T23:43:00.000-05:00

For a lot of the year, my roommates and I have been talking about how we would like to take a day and visit one another’s workplaces. Today was the day. The only time any of us had ever been to see where each of us spends our days was in our first week here. That was the first time any of us had been to our workplaces, and the first time any of us had personally met those with whom we would be working. It was great to be able to actually see and meet the people and places that we discuss in our evenings together.

Here’s how our day of touring around the city went, after Tara and I made a quick trip to the Green Hills Starbucks for a little bit of waking assistance (not that we’re the two in the house that actually need it).

Stop 1: The Campus for Human Development
We spent about an hour at the Campus, where things were pretty quiet. I took everybody around on a little tour, showing them all of my hang-outs, from the support desk, to the mail room, to my office. Speaking of my office, it has recently been cleaned out. I share it with my fellow intern Jana, who will sadly be finishing her internship in a few weeks, and we cleaned up our office for the first time this year two weeks ago during our Campus clean-up day. We have been having a mouse problem, and we realized that the cause may have been the big pile of popcorn kernels that was on our floor behind our lovely popcorn machine, which is kind of a nice conversation piece for our office. We also cleaned up some of the half-full coffee mugs and dirty dishes that were left by the previous occupant of our room when it was used for case management over a year ago. We added some additional artwork (made by our participants) to go with the scary painting of a former Jesuit volunteer whose teeth and gums were portrayed in a slightly unflattering manner. I accidentally pulled our curtains down, which were way too long for our window anyway and I think were bed sheets in a former life. Unfortunately, there have still been mice, so the exterminator has been called. Nevertheless, my office is in much better shape and I’ve probably spent more time in there in the last two weeks than I have in the last eight months.

Okay—back to the tour. The most exciting thing that happened while we were at the Campus was passing out lunch tickets at 10:00 in the morning. They also got to watch me help a woman get her state ID card, which was a thrill, I’m sure. I was a little disappointed that nothing else was going on or that my participant friends didn’t seem to have much life or personality, though Patrick got to have a pretty good conversation with Richard, one of our more unique people.

Stop 2: Conexión Americas
Tara’s workplace is slightly different from mine. Her office, which is very large, with nice paintings and brightly colored walls includes a window that looks out on the building across the street, which is the Nashville Music Writers Association office. She says that there is usually someone on the porch playing the guitar and singing. Music Row is a little different than the 8th and Division area. We got to meet a few of her co-workers, which was fun. Patrick got the chance to change the light bulb in Maria Clara’s office. She is one of Tara’s bosses, and a co-founder of Conexión Americas. Conexión is an awesome organization that works to promote the integration of Hispanic immigrants into the community. Tara organizes a conversation program (“Conversemos”) that pairs English and Spanish speakers for help in breaking down language barriers, or borders, you might say. Tara had us stuff some brochures that will be distributed at upcoming Cinco de Mayo festivals around the community.

Stop 3: Presbytery of Middle Tennessee meeting
Susan called me as we were driving from Conexión Americas to the Korean Presbyterian Church of Nashville near Brentwood to the Middle Tennessee Presbytery meeting we had been scheduled to give a presentation at. She let us know that the meeting was running about a half hour ahead of schedule. We had planned to get there about a half hour or 25 minutes before we were scheduled on the docket, so things were going to be tight. As we walked in the door, the end of the commissioning service for the Guatemalan mission trip participants was ending, which was the cue that we were next. Fortunately, we arrived with about 30 seconds to spare. Each of us, along with Susan, told about the program and the experiences we have had this year. Many people stopped to talk to us afterward. I met several people who had connections to the Campus, and it was nice to see many familiar faces there. Nothing gets me excited like a good presbytery meeting (really—I know it’s sad) so I was definitely in my element. The Korean Presbyterian Church prepared an outstanding lunch, which we washed down with a little cup of Presbyterian Coffee Project fair trade coffee.

Stop 4: The Toolshed
We changed into more comfortable clothes/shoes for the rest of the day. We also enjoyed some Diet Coke with Lime.

Stop 5: Martha O’Bryan Center
Chasie works in the middle of Nashville’s oldest and largest housing projects: James A. Cayce Homes. They are row after row of small red brick two-story apartment buildings. After dark, this is an area where shootings are common. We arrived at MOB, a Presbyterian supported organization, about a half hour before the after school program began. We saw “Ms. Chasie’s” office, which might have even topped Tara’s in niceness. Both of them have offices nicer than anyone at the Campus has, so I was jealous! I admired the nice pictures kids had drawn for her on her bulletin board, including an apology letter she received from a little kid. We met some of the staff members, and then went with Chasie and the elementary program director to pick up a group of children from Kirkpatrick Elementary School. We walked back with the kids, and I was very impressed by the way Chasie works with them and the relationships she has developed with them and their families. The kids were working on their homework when we left.

Stop 6: Preston Taylor Ministries
PTM, the after school program where Patrick works, just moved into a new building about a month ago. I left that beautiful new building with a great deal of respect for what Patrick deals with each day. He is challenged with somehow bringing hope and order out of some of the most chaotic kids I’ve ever seen. His boss, Chan, had us help with some of the reading groups. “Mr. Patrick” put me with the kindergarten kids, and I was a little overwhelmed. I was with a more regular volunteer, who was fortunately there, or I may not have made it out of the room alive. I had a few of the girls read me some books, which they did in between jumping up on top of the table and hitting me. It did make me feel a little bit better that the regular volunteer couldn’t control them any better than I could. I was thoroughly impressed with what PTM is able to do with such a small staff (pretty much just Chan, Patrick and a few other volunteers). We played jump rope with the kids before they left. I would probably take up drinking if I had to work with kids every day.

Stop 7: Second Presbyterian Church
After putting a lasagna in the oven, Tara and I headed over to the church for a lecture given by Rev. Mark Davis, pastor of the First Presbyterian Church in Boise, Idaho. It was a very interesting talk about aesthetics and art in worship that involved a discussion of the level of thought we put into flowers in worship.

Stop 8: The couches
We ended the night a few minutes ago with a great talk about everything we had done during the day. What great people I have been blessed to live with, and what amazing things we get to do and see every day.

I better go to bed now, I have to get up early to make monkey bread to take to our Campus staff retreat tomorrow.

Renegade Sheep

2007-04-30T20:53:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was Good Shepherd Sunday, as is always the fourth Sunday of Easter. Our Christian Educator at Second preached an outstanding sermon, which I would rank as one of the top five or ten I've heard.

Here it is.

"Sheep of a Renegade Shepherd"

A sermon on Psalm 23 by Cathy Hoop

Blessing and honor and glory and might

2007-04-23T21:55:00.000-05:00

Yesterday's lectionary readings included one of my favorite scripture passages, a scene from the fifth chapter of Revelation of heavenly worship

"Then I looked, and I heard the voice of many angels surrounding the throne and the living creatures and the elders; they numbered myriads of myriads and thousands of thousands, singing with full voice, "Worthy is the Lamb that was slaughtered to receive power and wealth and wisdom and might and honor and glory and blessing!" Then I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and in the sea, and all that is in them, singing, "To the one seated on the throne and to the Lamb be blessing and honor and glory and might forever and ever!" And the four living creatures said, "Amen!" And the elders fell down and worshiped."

I always think that it's funny that my favorite biblical passage comes from Revelation, since that's usually the territory of fundamentalist televangelists who spend their ministries making bold claims about the time and place of Jesus' imminent return. If you look behind the flat out strange imagery and bizarre prophesies found in John's Revelation, you'll find some extraordinary visions of the church universal standing before the throne of God. I think those of us who have the privilege of being able to create music in worship, whether being an organist or pianist as I have been, or one of the voices that joins to create a community's song of praise, prayer or lament, know something about what heaven is like.

When I was the music director and organist at Trinity Lutheran in Terre Haute (hi Lutherans!), the most intense moment in worship for me were when we would sing the canticle "This is the feast" toward the beginning of the service. It is a canticle that takes its text from the words of Revelation. "This is the feast of victory for our God, Alleluia! Worthy is Christ, the Lamb who was slain, whose blood set us free to be people of God. Power and riches and wisdom and strength and honor and blessing and glory are his. Sing with all the people of God, and join in the hymn of all creation; Blessing and honor and glory and might be to God and the Lamb forever, Amen! This is the feast of victory for our God, for the Lamb who was slain has begun his reign. Alleluia, Alleluia!"

Images of all creation joining to sing a hymn are important to me when I am playing music for worship. Often when we'd sing that hymn, I'd imagine ocean waves crashing and tree leaves rustling in the wind joining the voices of human and non-human creatures. It's like Herbert Brokering's hymn "Earth And All Stars" where everything from crowds and marching bands to trumpets and pipes to loud boiling test tubes sing praises to God. Images of people from every tribe and language at the throne of God (there must not be any English-only laws in Heaven, surprisingly) are very moving to me.

Creation's song of praise takes on many faces when examined at individual levels. It might sound like the phenomenal music our youth group at Second Pres. offered at last Sunday's youth service: a rendition of Hank William's "I Saw the Light" and Nickel Creek's "Doubting Thomas," which both illustrated beautifully the theme of the day. It might be the footsteps of migrant workers entering a strange land where they won't necessarily be welcomed. The song of praise might be found in the strong voices of homeless men gathered on Easter morning to sing "Amazing Grace." It might be heard as somebody relieves stress by humming to the radio on the way to work. Even the cries of anguish blend into this song to the Lamb who was slaughtered in screams from help from violence.

What a humbling opportunity it is for us to enter God's eternal time in music and in worship.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The last piece of the puzzle for Second Presbyterian's new building is the installation of the new organ. Yesterday morning, many people were standing in the front of the sanctuary staring backwards toward the balcony to get the first glimpse of the new organ, which was still on a truck a week earlier. It is Juget-Sinclair's Opus 26, a tracker action organ with 22 ranks.

Here are the specifications on the Juget-Sinclair site.

It should be ready to go by the new church building's dedication service on the afternoon of June 3.

Toolshed under siege: When animals (and hoodlums) attack

2007-04-15T15:14:00.000-05:00

The Toolshed seems to be under attack.

For nearly a week, what at first seemed like a normal robin, has tortured us with repeated crashes into our little home. Over and over (and over) he will fly head first into our living room window. He will sit on our trash can outside and then start his repeated pecking at our window. Normal sessions, which happen several times a day, include about 7-8 take offs and crash landings.

We have a few theories of what might be going on here. The bird might be mentally challenged. Maybe it fell out of its nest as a young baby robin. Perhaps its mother drank before laying her egg. We are also thinking that this might be the Holy Spirit trying to peck its way into our house in some symbolic action.

Here are a few action shots taken from inside.

Just as we thought the deranged robin was the biggest of our problems over on Richards Street...

This afternoon, Tara, Chasie and I went to see Blades of Glory with our friend Zach at the Regal Green Hills. We smuggled in some burritos from Baja Fresh since the movie started at 12:45 and we didn't have time to eat. When we pulled back up to the house, here is what we saw:

Yes, that's right, here in Green Hills, where there are no problems in the world, our beloved Toolshed was tagged. We think it was done in broad daylight since we didn't see it on our walk to church this morning or on the way to the movie. We're not sure what it says or stands for. Who would have done such a thing? Was it a random act of vandalism, or was this graffiti making a statement against us? It could have been some other group of volunteers who were jealous of our NEP awesomeness (the youth ministers? the Jesuits?). Maybe somebody from one of our workplaces was getting back at one of us. I wouldn't think the homeless people would walk this far, though I might have made a few enemies. Maybe one of the disgruntled Jr. High students from Patrick's after school program, or one of Tara's clients that she wronged in some way? Who knows. If you have any information on who might have committed this crime, or can figure out what the grafitti says, call us at the Toolshed or call the Metro Police directly. Thanks.

RESURRECTION PEOPLE

2007-04-08T15:24:00.000-05:00

This morning, I had the unique opportunity to see all of my worlds meet in a parking lot in downtown Nashville. Second Presbyterian held its annual sunrise service at the Campus for Human Development this morning on a record cold day. We bundled up and met under a tent, worshiped and then fed breakfast to the crowd. My family visited me this weekend, so it was nice to have them, those with whom I work, and those with whom I attend church together in one setting.

I was asked to give the sermon, which I did. It was a spirit-filled morning, to say the least. As each of us who introduced the service said, there is no place on earth any of us would rather be on Easter morning. The Campus can be a place of great sadness, as it was last Friday when the gentleman attempted to take his own life, but, as a parallel to the biblical story, Sunday morning was a day of hope.

Here is the sermon I gave.

RESURRECTION OF THE LORD SUNDAY / EASTER MORNING AT SUNRISE
ISAIAH 65: 17-25
JOHN 20: 1-18

Sunday, April 8, 2007
The Campus for Human Development
Jeff Moles

WHY ARE YOU WEEPING?

Those of us who spend a lot of time in this place, as I and many of you do, know that this is an unlikely place for people to come to celebrate the first moments of Easter Sunday. All too often, these streets are a place of sadness and violent words and actions. It can be hard to find the beauty in a place like this, but believe me, it is here. The same must have been true in the garden on that first Easter morning. Mary Magdalene and the disciples were just a few days removed from the death of their close friend and teacher. Most of us know how it feels to loose someone we love. And unfortunately, many of us gathered here this morning know the terror of losing that loved one by violent means, dying before their time.

So—how is it that some people are able to see past the gloom of life’s harsh realities? How did those present in the garden that morning gain eyes to see new life and have faith to react? And perhaps most importantly, how can we, in this time and place, gain the courage to see God’s resurrection work among us? How can we turn from people stuck in Good Friday’s world of death, fear and anguish, into a people marked by the resurrection, with its new beginnings, hope and joy? Will it make a difference in this world if we all believe in the resurrection but live like we’re stuck on Good Friday?

I think we can take our cues from those mentioned in the gospel account we heard this morning. According to John, Simon Peter and the other disciple went into the tomb that morning and looked at what was there: burial cloths lying by themselves. As John puts it, they “saw and believed.” Mary Magdalene encountered the risen Christ herself. The gospel writer tells us that she “went and announced” the good news to others. And so, here is set before us, a pattern to emulate in our path to becoming a resurrection people: see, believe, go, announce.

SEE
The first of these, to see, is often the hardest because it requires us to think outside of the box and think in a way that is different from the way the rest of the world would have us. It is easy to look at the person who is at the bottom of society’s ladder, who has no respect for her or himself or for anyone else for that matter, who struggles with addiction and self-abuse, and think that they have no future, no hope for development as a person. To see with Easter eyes means to embrace the image of God in that person, to have a vision of what that person might become as a fully developed child of God.

As many of you know, we have some people who work here at the Campus who are recovering addicts and those who have escaped the bonds of homelessness. I think they hold an important key to the rest of us in how to be people of new life rather than of death: both to those of us in this community like me who have never had to taste the bitter pill of life on the streets and those who are still on their way back from that struggle. It is through their strength and the strength of those currently going through our programs like Odyssey that it becomes possible to see how life might change for those who call the alley home. I sometimes like to look around this place and try to imagine who will be the next person to take a big step in the journey of recovery. Who will be the next Melvin, June, Fred, Harry or Ron?

Seeing the seemingly impossible, whether it’s having the strength to see a pile of cloths in an empty tomb, or imagining a person with hopefulness, is the first step in living the resurrection life.

BELIEVE
The next step after seeing is believing. After the disciples saw the pile of burial clothes, the gospel writer says they believed. Would we have the faith to believe in God’s amazing power to bring about new life from death? Would we be able to believe the mystery of resurrection in a dark tomb?

After we’ve seen the evidence, it’s our task to believe in the force behind it. Sometimes it’s so easy to think that there’s really nothing behind all this “God” stuff. My friends, I’ve seen so much evidence of God’s power here it’s hard to not believe that there is something greater than ourselves at work among us.

More often it’s in little things rather than big. I see evidence of God’s work here when somebody gets a new job that gives them hope for a future that is better. I see it in the looks on people’s faces when they come walking across this parking lot on Friday mornings after attending a graduation ceremony from the DTC alcohol and drug treatment program. I see it when people enjoy community and fellowship with others at Room In The Inn. I see it when people organize with one another to fight for the housing that they and others deserve. God’s power is even present in the darkest of times. It is there when I’m walking someone to the Guest House and they say to me, “I’ve really had enough of this; I need help.” Or when a heated dispute turns into handshakes.

See the evidence of God’s resurrection work among us and believe.

GO
After we’ve seen and believed the good news, it’s our big chance to shine. “Go.” Just as Mary went from her encounter with Jesus that first Easter morning, living a life that reflects the resurrection often requires that we go from where we are. That might mean to make a change in the way we think. It might mean associating with different people, either ones that won’t tempt you into old ways of living or ones who especially need your good example. Or, it might mean, as it has for me, moving from Indiana to Tennessee to turn strangers into friends.

On Easter Sunday last year I was a college student, and the music director at a church. This Easter Sunday, I’m a Young Adult Volunteer with the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.), working with the homeless community here at the Campus for Human Development. This is a different world from the one I was used to. I have learned a lot about what it means to survive on the streets and have a great deal of respect for all of you. I don’t fully understand your struggle because I have never been there myself. I do, however, believe that the work I do here, even when it doesn’t make people happy, is what God has called me to do.

Go. Go where you’ve never been. Jesus calls us to go into all the world as resurrection people. Go.

ANNOUNCE
The fourth thing we find Mary Magdalene doing is announcing the good news.

Saint Francis of Assisi said “Preach the gospel at all times – if necessary, use words.”

I think this is a good way for us to look at our responsibility to this world and to God to announce the gospel. A good way to start in this endeavor is to respect ourselves as people made in the image of God. Though we are certainly not worthy of God’s great love for us and the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ that was carried out on our behalf, we must embrace our identity as God’s children. Those of us who are baptized know what it means to be claimed by God. It is up to God’s grace to help us live a life worthy of the calling to which we are called.

After we respect the image of God within ourselves, a good next step is to respect that image in everyone else we meet. Some people say that they experience God best by looking at a beautiful sunset or while hiking in the mountains. Typically these comments are made to justify not going to church or participating in any type of spiritual community. While I certainly give nothing but praise to God for the beauty of creation, I tend to think these people are a little off base. You see, I think the best place, and admittedly the most difficult, to meet God is in one another. Only human beings are made in the image of God. It is our task to love them as we would love our selves and respect the image of God that they reveal to this world as much as we respect the one that is in ourselves.

By doing this, we announce to this world that we see things differently. For us, the sorrow of Good Friday has passed, and the joy of Easter fills our hearts, minds, and actions.

See.
Believe.
Go.
Announce.

By overcoming death, God has given us the command to turn our lives in a God-ward direction. We are called not to live in the shadows and mourn the violent, poor world in which we live. It is our calling as people of the resurrection to ask the world the same questions posed to Mary by the angels and Jesus: “why are you weeping?”

Why are you weeping, world? Christ is risen! Alleluia! Amen.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"EASTER IN A PARKING LOT"

by Stacy Rector, former Associate Pastor of Second Presbyterian Church

Pavement, worn and cracked as

tired feet falling

on broken asphalt

bearing worn bags and cracked hearts

Another day on the streets

Empty bellies and pockets

An empty tomb

Light breaks once more

Still, a shadow looms large

in cruciform shape lengthens with the day

Where is the broken one this morning?

Stumbling along the railroad tracks or

dripping with Easter finery?

Smelling of lilies or

of the streets?

On a folding chair in the corner

As cold hands thaw

A warm heart plots again

to change

water into wine or

into hot coffee

A parking lot becomes a church,

Crumbs, a feast

Resurrection rises among us

Like leaven in a loaf,

like laughter in the throat

like an "alleluia" or an "amen"

Lightly landing on asphalt gray,

Traipsing like an angel floating in air

Comes one with melody of hope in one another

And the music of the mystery of love

Chasing away fear, cleansing guilt,

Conquering death forever...

Solidarity

2007-04-06T17:30:00.000-05:00

Just before Lent began, something appeared in the sanctuary of Second Presbyterian that many people had been asking about since the new sanctuary opened in January. A cross. The central symbol of our faith had finally been included in our new worship space. At first, I didn’t like it. It disrupted the simplicity that I had been enjoying. The pulpit sort of forms a cross as interpreted in the PCUSA seal; we had a table, a font and a Christ candle. Wasn’t this enough? Despite what I thought, there were many who thought something was missing without a prominent cross.

What a strange symbol our faith has. The cross is an execution device. Maybe if Jesus would have lived in 2007, an appropriate symbol for Christianity would be a syringe or an electric chair. For me, as Al Gore might say, the cross is the inconvenient truth of faith. It is so tempting to skip over the crucifixion aspect, especially since I was so turned off by the marketing and frenzy surrounding “The Passion of the Christ” movie a few years ago. I am a Christian who likes to think about the life Jesus lived and the example he left for us, or the resurrection, which calls to mind notions of eternity and hope. But a horrifying death by torture? No thanks.

Today was one of those days where things were a little rough at work. This morning, one of our participants had what we called a “psychotic episode” which was really an episode of pain, illness and rage. It began with us asking him to leave for the day because of the language he was using and the way he was talking to us. It ended in his being taken away in an ambulance after he had been so desperate to seek release from the pains of this life that he had rammed his own head against one of our buildings in an attempt to take his own life. As I said something like “I understand what you mean” or “I know what you are going through” he absolutely broke down as a person and wept openly to the point of mental instability where he made threats against others and himself before finally injuring himself. As he made clear to me, I don’t know what he is going through, and he was right. As he lay in pain on the cold concrete with his arms spread and his legs flailing around in a state of semi-consciousness, he kept crying in pain, spiritual, emotional and physical.

There is someone who knows what pain we face in life. For in human form, God walked in our shoes. Christ faced the most humiliating and cruel pain the world had to offer. That is the message of Good Friday: the cross stands as an eternal symbol of the God who bears the pain of this broken world every day.

Even the stones will shout...

2007-04-01T16:34:00.000-05:00

...when you use eco-palms for Palm Sunday!

Because the actual palms that church members wave in their churches on Palm Sunday are not the real meaning of this day, most people don't think about where the palms we use come from and how we might be neglecting the call to love our neighbor and care for creation by using particular types of palms. At Second this morning, we used eco-palms. Here's what the bulletin insert explaining this project had to say.

eco-palms: a healthier harvest

Today, in celebration of Palm Sunday, our congregation has partnered with Enough for Everyone of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) to use eco-palms--a branch truly worthy of celebration.

COMMUNITIES AT RISK

More than 300 million palm fronds are harvested each year for US consumption alone--most of them for Palm Sunday. Yet for the communities who harvest these plants year after year, palm fronds rarely represent jubilation. Although US palm purchases may reach as high as $4.5 million each year, the palm harvesters themselves earn very little. Indigenous families and communities, who rely heavily on palm harvesting for income, represent the poorer segments of the rural populations in the palm-producing areas of Mexico and Guatemala.

ENVIRONMENT AT RISK

Typically, palm harvesting is done by community members hired by local contractors, who then sell palms to large floral export firms. Payment is based on volume, so harvesters are motivated to gather a large quantity of palms without regard for quality. As a result, up to half the palms harvested are usually discarded due to poor quality. Many palm producing areas are important biosphere reserves, and the harsh harvesting techniques rapidly deplete the forest's rich biodiversity.

GOOD NEWS: A HEALTHIER HARVEST

The PC(USA) has partnered with Lutheran World Relief, Catholic Relief Services and the University of Minnesota to help build support in the US for eco-palms by introducing congregations to this social and environmental justice project.

Eco-palms are harvested in a more sustainable way--harvesters are paid on the quality of their palms rather than the quantity. These communities are also committed to using harvesting practices that minimize the impact on the natural forest.

Eco-palm harvesters and community members sort and package the palms themselves and sell their palms directly rather than relying on middlemen. In this way, eco-palms improve local communities' standard of living and ensure that the money paid for the palms benefit those who labor.

As we raise our branches in celebration today, we play an important role in protecting forests, local jobs, and sustainable livelihoods in harvesting communities.

Eco-Palm Project

part of Enough for Everyone

a campaign of the PCUSA that encourages creative ways of to practice responsible discipleship in the global community, including the Presbyterian Coffee Project, Electric Stewardship, Sweat-Free T's, Oikocredit, the Eco-Palm Project, and the Global Marketplace.

The Last Night of Room In The Inn

2007-03-31T23:07:00.000-05:00

Tonight, across Nashville, a couple hundred homeless people are sleeping on mattresses and cots in church fellowship halls, having enjoyed a warm meal and loving fellowship with church members. Tomorrow night, these same men and women will have to find somewhere else to spend the night. Many will choose to stay at the Nashville Rescue Mission, the largest source of shelter for the homeless here, and some will live on the streets for the next seven months, since Room In The Inn, the Campus’s winter shelter program ends tomorrow morning when church busses will stream into our downtown parking lot for the last time this season. I haven’t really said much on this blog about Room In The Inn, so I figured I should before it’s over. Most people in Nashville aren’t quite sure what the Campus for Human Development is (“Oh, is that at Vanderbilt or something?”), but nearly everyone knows about Room In The Inn.

The sheer number of people who volunteer for Room In The Inn hadn’t hit me until last Sunday morning when those who had volunteered their time at some point in the last five months came to the front of the sanctuary as the congregation said a litany of thanksgiving. I imagined a similar number being multiplied by 150 and saw what a huge thing Room In The Inn is.

So, what is Room In The Inn, and how does it work? Basically, as I briefly explain it to new participants a few times a day, it is our winter shelter program that runs November 1st through March 31st. Over 150 congregations in Nashville take small groups of people to their church buildings one night a week, offering them dinner, a warm place to sleep, and breakfast. When RITI guests return to the Campus in the morning (by around 6:00), they can draw a ticket that will let them know when they’ll be able to go back to a church for the night—either that night or the one after.

The number of beds available in any one night seems to average between 150 and 250. There are very few nights when people are not turned away. On a recent day on the daily RITI wrap-up report it was written, “85 degrees, still not enough beds.” Because of the popularity of our program among the homeless population, there is quite a street market for Room In The Inn tickets.

I have mostly observed Room In The Inn from a distance, since I go home from work at 4:30. I have actually seen it more from the side of Second Presbyterian than from the Campus. Through most of the winter, I have had other commitments that have had me at the church on Wednesday nights, which has given me an opportunity to visit Room In The Inn. Second has been taking eighteen guests, which is about the most that is ever sent out in one group. We have also hosted the women, which is a special challenge, to say the least, for much of this season. It was funny the first few times I visited RITI at Second, because the first reaction when people saw me was that something must be wrong or that they were in trouble for something. After most people found out that Second is “Jeff’s church,” I stopped getting too many looks of fear. I actually have received numerous compliments each week about the hospitality that has been shown at Second Pres.

I think that the most important part of Room In The Inn is the fact that once the guests leave the Campus, they are entirely in contact with volunteers. I have found when I’ve been at Second for RITI, I have a hard time not being judgmental, since I know something about most of the people there. The volunteers who give their time welcoming their guests, fixing dinner, putting out the mattresses complete with chocolates on the pillow, and doing many loads of laundry, don’t have the same basis for judgment that I do and can focus more on practicing hospitality and unconditional love. Our program is also special because it lets people exist in small groups which foster community and respect. They don’t feel like they are being herded around like animals.

The end of Room In The Inn season means different things to different people. For us on the staff, it is a feeling of relief. Friday felt like the “Friday of Fridays” as I called it, because we made it through the busy time of the year that everyone was bracing for last October. Starting next week, the Campus will close at 2:00pm for the day, rather than at 4:00 until it reopened for RITI at 4:30. We’ll have some time to catch up on some of the things that we haven’t had the time to focus on. For our participants, it is a much more difficult reality to face. Many people go through a very rough time when Room In The Inn is over. Emotional stress often increases as does physical violence. With Room In The Inn, people find a home, where they are welcomed no matter what. They find a place where they can be served and serve others in ways that give them hope for change in their own lives.

LITANY OF THANKSGIVING FOR ROOM IN THE INN

Give thanks to the Lord who is good.
God’s love is everlasting.
Come, let us praise God joyfully.
Let us come to God with thanksgiving.
For human life;
for talking and living and eating together;
for common hopes and hardships shared from birth until our dying;
Thank you, God.
For the homeless in whom we see the face of Christ;
for the poor in whom we meet our risen savior;
for shared community and common humanity.
Thank you, God.
For our Room in the Inn guests, who give us the gifts of their stories;
for their life experiences, which challenge us to examine our own lives;
for deepening awareness of our common need of your grace;
Thank you, God.
For these volunteers, who gave up the comforts of home to share a home with our guests;
for their gifts of hospitality, cooking, companionship and service;
for being the community of Christ and welcoming the homeless into that community.
Thank you, God.
For all the ways their thankfulness for your love has been increased;
for the new ways they have learned how to bear the name of Christ through their service;
for growing discipleship and deepening faith.
Thank you, God.
Especially, O God, for Jesus the Christ;
who lived and died and lives again to welcome us home;
for our hope in him and the joy of serving you.
We thank and praise you, Eternal God,
for all your goodness to us.
Give thanks to the Lord, who is good.
God’s love is everlasting.

Heart for the People

2007-03-29T23:13:00.000-05:00

from today's Tennessean:

'Heart for the People' fills Room In The Inn Leader:

From volunteer to executive director, Hester is advocate for city's homeless

By SYLVIA SLAUGHTER

Staff Writer

Though she studied interior design, Rachel Hester calls her office decor "secondhand chic."
She means clutter, unsophisticated clutter, from a dime-store Mickey Mouse to hand-me-drawn cards from the men and women she shields from their detractors and bawls out when she catches them lighting up a bong outside her window.

For longer than a year now, Hester has been executive director of Room in the Inn's Campus for Human Development, a way-station for the homeless.

Blogging the Campus Values: SPIRITUALITY

2007-03-26T20:31:00.000-05:00

This is the first in a series of blog posts with some guest writers. I have asked some of my co-workers from the Campus for Human Development to write some personal reflections on the seven core values that are contained in our mission statement:

“Through the power of spirituality and the practice of love, the Campus for Human Development provides hospitality with a respect that offers hope in a community of non-violence.”

At the beginning of each posting, I will incorporate some reflections on the meaning of each value by our Founding Director Charlie Strobel. It is my hope that by getting to know some of the people I spend my days with, you will gain a better understanding of what I am doing in Nashville this year.

In this first post, we’ll reflect on the value of spirituality through the lens of three of my favorite Campus friends. Anneice will share the role that spirituality has played in her response to the death three weeks ago of her daughter Bambi. Many Campus values were lived out in our community’s response to Ms. Anneice’s loss. Jana writes about spirituality from the unique perspective as a young Jewish person. Finally, Fred, who I called “the person I never thought I’d sit next to in church” when we were at Anneice’s daughter’s funeral a few weeks ago, but who always surprises us with the depth of his love for our participants, writes about the fact that spirituality doesn’t allow us to judge.

* * * * * * * * * * *

“The Campus for Human Development understands that spirituality is a way of encountering the divine in all of us. It is a process, more than a set of doctrines—a process of discovery of our inner life, as coming from God and moving toward God. This inner life is at the center of our understanding of ourselves. The process of self-understanding cannot be gained fully without a personal journey inward. Others may tell us much about ourselves. Society can define and explain much about our relationship to one another. But no one is able to experience our inner life. There inside ourselves, we alone have the power to come to an awareness of our heart’s desires and our mind’s intentions. Our spiritual quest is to link our spirit (our desires and intentions) to the divine spirit that also resides within us. This process develops our conscience and forms our soul. Practically, spirituality transcends denominational identities and structures and expresses our values through actions.”

-Charles Strobel

* * * * *

GUEST BLOGGER: Fred Collins

I am a 62-year-old retired dentist and also a retired drug addict. After years of struggling with addiction I finally got clean and sober five years ago. I feel that working here at the Campus could possibly help others recover from this vicious disease.

To me, spirituality is the basis for our other core values. I think it is a must for staff members to embrace spiritual principles in order to empathize with our population. One of the most important of these is tolerance, because without this we could be judgmental. It is not our mission to over analyze what got our participants here but to help them return to mainstream society, or, if that is not within their reach, help them cope with a less than desirable situation. This requires the full array of spiritual principles—compassion, hope, love, hospitality, respect, non-violence, etc. No matter how many classes we do or group sessions we facilitate, without these spiritual principles we could become too judgmental and all would be lost.

Fred is part of the education team at the Campus. He leads drug and alcohol addiction recovery classes for the men in our Odyssey program and occasionally for our general population. He spends most of the day in our education center, and helping run our storage program. We all know Fred as someone who might greet us with a four-letter word or as the person least likely to sugar-coat the truth in any situation. We also know that Fred is probably the most caring person on our staff, and any of us would trust him with our lives.

* * * * * *

GUEST BLOGGER: Jana Bregman

Hi, my name is Jana and I am one of Jeff’s co-interns at the Campus. I graduated from high school (University School of Nashville) last May and chose to put off college for a year to work at the Campus. My thought was that as much fun as writing more papers and studying for exams sounds, working at an agency with an outstanding mission and an unreal staff sounded much more worthwhile.

From reading Jeff’s blog I’m sure you have begun to appreciate how complex this place is so maybe you can see why I am now just starting to understand (with some confidence) the Campus’ philosophy, procedures, and the population we serve. My understanding of the Campus’ seven core values has definitely evolved during my time at the Campus and in particular, the value of spirituality has taken on new meaning for me, someone who grew up in a religious household and practices a devout Jewish lifestyle.

It is a common misinterpretation that the words religion and spirituality are synonymous. For me, the word spirituality fosters images of my mom and I lighting the Sabbath candles, or me covering my eyes while I say the she’ma before bed. While these moments can be described as both spiritual and religious, certain interactions at the Campus have shown me that spirituality is not confined to religious experiences. Spirituality is also when God is present in the form of love, community, and peace between fellow humans.

Here are a few among many examples of spirituality I have witnessed at the Campus:

- A gentleman who used our services years ago is now on staff at the Campus and often works through the night serving individuals at our Guest House (an alternative to jail for the publicly intoxicated).

- When one of my co-workers helped dress an individual who is mentally handicapped and was not aware that he was exposed.

- One day a participant threatened suicide and later, when Mobile Crisis asked her for the name of the person she can rely on the most, she said the people at the Campus.

- The safety and warmth of our prayer circle every night before Room In the Inn, the Campus’ winter shelter program.

- The face that I feel welcomed and totally included even though I practice a different faith than the rest of the Campus staff.

The Campus was founded as a multi-faith organization and this is apparent in its values. The Campus doesn’t force a particular religion or even a particular God but it still values spirituality because of its inherent connection to the Campus’ five other core values – nonviolence, love, community, hospitality, and hope. And without these values, there’s no way we (the staff) could help others help themselves on the road to recovery.

Jana will turn 19 in a few weeks, but she is probably the most mature, capable person that works at the Campus. She takes on a number of roles, and works with just about all of our program teams, including administration, education, Odyssey, and Room In The Inn. She also coordinates the Campus’ Teen Board. Jana and I have a great time working together at the support desk, in the day room, and sorting the mail. We also share a luxurious office, and join in celebrating our latest victory over the mice that want to share it with us.

* * * * *

GUEST BLOGGER: Anneice Tisdale

Spirituality means to me is when God is testing you to see how much faith you have in him when he takes a love one from you. It is hard to keep the pain in my heart. And you ask, “why did you pick my little flower?” I know there is a time to be born and a time to die. It seems like he wants us to go on giving ourselves helping others. My heart is broken but I know God is a just God. So I am trying my best to help others to go on. Someday he will wipe away all my tears and this burden in my heart. He knows I am a giving person and would do anything for anyone. Spirituality to the Campus is about helping the participants and listening to them, giving all we’ve got and putting them on the right road.

When I see a bright star, I know it my child looking down on her family.

Ms. Anneice is one of the “originals” who has been with Room In The Inn and The Campus since its inception. She begins each day at 6:00am by running our shower program and works in the day room until the afternoon, also leading our daily orientation sessions. Known as “The Warden,” Anneice is the face of the Campus and a mother to many in Nashville’s homeless community. She never fails to make me laugh, and my favorite times at work are when I pull up a chair next to her in the day room. She is at her best when she is teaching our Odyssey guys to dance, or making sure that some of our participants who are least able to care for themselves have their clothes washed. The Warden also possesses special laser vision that can spot food in the day room from miles away.

Homeless rally arrest was wrong

2007-03-26T19:21:00.000-05:00

from Sunday's Tennessean:

Homeless rally arrest was wrong

By GAIL KERR

Charlie Strobel is an unlikely convict.

He is 64 years old. He's a former Catholic priest who started Room in the Inn 21 years ago. Now, 150 congregations offer the homeless a warm, safe place to sleep on cold nights. He knows everybody from the lowliest street bum to the richest Belle Meade businessman. At the funeral of his mother, Strobel urged people to forgive her murderer.

This is the man police arrested last week for protesting. read the full article

The Great Thanksgiving

2007-03-25T20:27:00.000-05:00

I usually don't like it when we use a communion liturgy that is outside the "norm." But, today's really was meaningful. I am really a fan of having communion every Sunday, which we have done through Lent here at Second. I wish I could give credit to the author of this prayer, but none was listed.

EUCHARISTIC PRAYER

The Lord be with you.

And also with you.

Lift up your hearts.

We lift them to the Lord.

Let us give thanks to the Lord our God.

It is right to give our thanks and praise.

What do you bring to Christ’s table?

We bring bread, made by many people’s work, from an unjust world where some have plenty and most go hungry.

At this table all are fed and no one is turned away.

Thanks be to God.

What do you bring to Christ’s table?

We bring wine, made by many people’s work, from an unjust world where some have leisure and most struggle to survive.

At this table all share the cup of pain and celebration and no one is denied.

Thanks be to God.

These gifts shall be for us the body and blood of Christ,

Our witness against hunger, our cry against injustice, and our hope for a world where God is fully known and every child is fed. Thanks be to God

All sing: Sanctus ("Holy, Holy, Holy...")

Creator God, let your Holy Spirit moves in power over us and over our earthly gifts of bread and wine that they may become the body and blood of Christ. On the night before he met his death, Jesus came to table with those he loved. He took bread and blessed you, God of all creation; he broke the bread among his disciples, and said: Take this, all of you, and eat it; this is my body which will be given up for you.

Thanks be to God.

When supper was ended, he took the cup of wine and gave thanks to you, God of all creation; he passed the cup among his disciples and said, Take this, all of you, and drink from it; this is the cup of my blood, the blood of the new and everlasting covenant. It will be shed for you and for all so that sins may be forgiven. Do this is memory of me.

Dying you destroyed our death.
Rising you restored our life.
Lord Jesus come!
Lord Jesus come in glory!

The table of bread and wine is now made ready.

It is the table of company with Jesus and with all those who love him. It is the table of sharing with the poor of the world, with whom Jesus identified himself. It is the table of communion with the earth in which Christ became incarnate.

So come to this table, you who have much faith and you would like to have more. You who have been to this sacrament often and you who have not been for a long time. You who have tried to follow Jesus and you who have failed. Come! It is Christ who invites us to meet him here.

Amen.

A Broken and Fearful World

2007-03-25T14:27:00.000-05:00

Oftentimes, the things that make it onto this blog are happy, sentimental types of stories about beautiful and very uplifting moments that take place in my work at the Campus. Don’t get me wrong, these moments happen, and, indeed, they happen every day. But, what I sometimes don’t convey here is the ugly and violent reality of homelessness. Typically in the front window of the sanctuary at Second, we have a bouquet of flowers, through Lent it has been an arrangement of bare sticks. It serves as a reminder that life not only includes Sunday mornings filled with Easter lilies but Friday afternoons of switches and thorns. So, in the spirit of this season of brokenness and repentance through which we currently walk, here are some observations about the harsh realities of life for both the homeless and those of us who work among them.

VIOLENCE

A reality of the streets is violence. At the Campus, we put violence into four categories: verbal, physical, sexual, and racial. Verbal and racial abuse (mostly the use of the n-word, whether done in a friendly or malicious way) are the most common types of violence we see—a couple of times a week, while physical and sexual violence are more rare—a couple of times a month, if that. The past week, as emotions began to flare with the final week of Room In The Inn looming large in the minds of our participants, was one that saw a higher number of violent incidences than usual. On Wednesday, there was a heated argument over a stolen bag that turned into a physical scuffle which involved nearly all of the staff members who were present, including me, being pushed around a little bit. Fortunately, we were able to diffuse the situation ourselves before anyone was seriously hurt, since it took the police over 30 minutes to respond to our 911 call.

Fortunately, no weapons were involved in that incident, which wasn’t the case a couple of other times this past week, when a woman used a brick to injure a man, and an intoxicated man pulled out a razor blade on one of our staff people. We all know that we work in a somewhat dangerous place, but we try to make sure we deal with volatile people in pairs and are smart about the way we handle things. (That last sentence was for you, Mom.)

ADDICTION

Probably 90% of the people we serve at the Campus have some kind of addiction problem. For many it is alcohol, for others it is drugs (mainly crack cocaine) and for a lot it is both of those. I have seen my share of intoxicated people, and it’s been easier to pick them out as time has gone by and I’ve gotten to know how individuals act when their drunk vs. sober. Once a man walked up to me and pulled up his shirt, undid his pants and pulled out a bottle of Listerine that he had been drinking. Mouthwash is about 25% alcohol, compared with just 5 or 6% in a typical beer. It’s also cheap and readily accessible.

I have knowingly witnessed two drug deals. One was in our bathroom, where I saw some large amounts of money being exchanged. Another was just outside our door at a picnic table, where I actually saw a man with a bag of crack. The funny thing is, when I confronted these people, they came up with the same kinds of excuses that school kids would come up with if they were caught passing notes in class. (“I was just giving him some money so he could call his mom on the phone…”)

HEALTH

Some of the saddest things we see on a daily basis are people with illnesses who have to live on the streets. Most of us take for granted the fact that we have somewhere to go when we are sick. Can you imagine having to live on the streets and walk everywhere when you’re seriously ill? It is not uncommon for our participants to have surgery in the morning and be back with us in the afternoon. Most of us don’t appreciate the fact that we have a bed to lie in to recover.

Physical illness also spreads quickly through the homeless population, especially in crowded shelters. Being crammed into a church van on the way to a church for Room In The Inn or sleeping in close quarters in a crowded mission, combined with a lack of access to the resources necessary for good hygiene and proper sanitation don’t do much to keep people healthy.

Besides the physical illnesses that I see on a daily basis, there is a large percentage of our population that suffers from mental illness. Depression runs rampant through the homeless population. Diseases that keep people from seeing reality often lead them to refuse our help. All too often, the pressures of life in homelessness lead people to threaten or attempt suicide. On a few occasions, people have expressed suicidal feelings to me, which puts responsibility on me to make sure that they receive help.

CHOICES

So often, people will say to me, “You know, 90% of homeless people choose to be homeless.” I would agree that many homeless people claim that they chose this lifestyle, but I don’t agree with them. There are few people who would opt into a life of having to depend on someone else, whether that someone is a social service agency or a group of church volunteers, for everything. Hardly anyone would rather sleep outdoors exposed to the elements night after night than sleep under a roof. It is most often addiction and mental illness that keep people homeless. When your mental state will not allow you to receive help or you spend everything you have because of an insatiable drive to feed your addiction, you probably won’t be able to keep a home no matter how inexpensive it is.

But, that doesn’t let the rest of us off the hook. The broken life of the homeless could happen to any of us at any time, and we are each prone to the same violent tendencies and illnesses as a condition of our humanity. We must make the decision to love people unconditionally, and make peace where there is violence, healing where there is sickness and hope where there is despair.

I'm still here

2007-03-17T11:09:00.000-05:00

Well, I've started getting some requests for a blog update, since it's been a few weeks since I posted anything of substance, so I'll try to fulfill those requests today. I've been pretty busy over the last month. I made two trips to Indiana on successive weekends at the end of February. On the first I played the piano for a wedding and preached at Trinity Lutheran. On the second, I took my NEP roommates with me to the "Middle East" as we would call it (or the "Midwest" for the rest of you). We gave a presentation at the Synod of Lincoln Trails Youthfest in Urbana, IL, and then came back to Terre Haute and gave some presentations at Central Pres. Brian came and spent most of this past week with me in Nashville, which was fun. I've also been keeping busy with music at the church. I'm subbing for the organist for three weeks, playing for the Wednesday night Taize services, plus I played for a memorial service last Sunday afternoon and am playing for an ordination service next Sunday. My fingers haven't been used to all of this work.

Here are a few pictures of what's been going on.

INDIANA SNOW: On the drive between Paris, IL, where the wedding was, and Terre Haute.

NASHVILLE SNOW: Patrick made these great snow people/animals on the day of our big snow here (1 inch).

This snow family met a slow and painful death.

Sad!

What would a presentation by Young Adult Volunteers be without piles of free goodies? We made the awesome bendy sticks into "YAV." The Youthfest planning team invited us to give two workshops on the YAV program.

At the hotel in Urbana (The Eastland Suites), they have a huge bird in the lobby. Strange.

The bird has quite a vocabulary of four-letter words.

Chasie became interested in the bird and asked to go into its cage area while this guy was cleaning. He said sure, because the bird loves women. We noticed that after he took the bird out of its cage, he was wearing all sorts of protective gear--thick gloves, goggles, etc. We also noticed that our dear housemate Chasie did not have any of these things on as the guy was trying to get the bird to stand on her arm. As Chasie was holding her arm out and the bird starts bobbing its head, the cage cleaning man says "GET BACK! GET BACK! HE'S IN ATTACK MODE!" So Chasie leaves the room not being able to hold the bird. Then we ask the guy why he wears all of that protective gear, and he proceeds to say, "Oh, I don't trust that bird at all, he'll peck my eyes out." Thankfully, Chasie lived to tell about it.

The joy of Sycamore women's basketball!

I thought we were heading for a shutout, but Bradley scored right after I took this picture.

Indiana State led by about 30 most of the way through.

Look at all of these Sycamore fans! Chasie and Tara raided Brian's closet since they slept in his room.

"Indiana State -- isn't that where Larry Bird went?" Yes, Tennesseans, it is.

Oh listen to the jingle, the rumble and the roar...

The final score: The Braves of Bradley, 50. Your Indiana State University Sycamores, 86.

Rachel Maenpaa gave a quite thorough senior speech.

Traveling Violations: A Coach's Coach

2007-03-03T17:25:00.000-06:00

Here's a good article I found on Yahoo! Sports about the firing of Indiana State men's basketball coach Royce Waltman.

Traveling Violations: A Coach's Coach

The best quote from Coach Waltman after the loss at the Valley tournament last night after being asked if he would retire or try to find another coaching job:

"I can't get a head coaching job. You gotta understand. If you get fired for cheating, you can get hired right back again. If you get fired for losing, it's like you've got leprosy, so young coaches need to bear that in mind. Cheating and not graduating players will not get you in trouble, but boy, that damn losing."

Dry Cleaning

2007-02-21T23:55:00.000-06:00

I’ve been dragging my feet on taking my black suit to the cleaners. It’s been two months since I got mud all over it at my grandpa’s burial service. It had been a rainy December and we all (especially us pall bearers) had shoes that were caked in mud after carrying the casket to it’s final resting place. I thought about taking the suit to the cleaners today, but I decided an afternoon nap might be better since my alarm went off at 4:45 A.M. this morning. It would have made for a nice symbolic Ash Wednesday activity.

From dust we come, and to dust we shall return.

The imposition of ashes on this day is a liturgical slap in the face. As I looked around the church tonight and saw people with crosses on their foreheads, I thought about how we looked like a forest of trees with spray painted X’s on them. In a way we were. We are all scheduled to be cut down. Despite what we like to think, and what our culture constantly tells us, our earthly selves will pass away. No amount of anti-aging cream can change that. As the hymn “Our God, Our Help in Ages Past” puts it so bluntly, “time, like an ever-rolling stream, soon bears us all away. We fly forgotten as a dream dies at the opening day.”

Ash Wednesday puts us in our place and helps us begin that necessary journey through Lent and Holy Week. We beg forgiveness for the wrongs that we do and remember our own mortality. It is only after we have attempted to come to grips with that reality that we can celebrate with reality of ashes and celebrate the filling of the font with the water of salvation.

One thing we all share is that we, along with my grandpa and others who have gone before us, will return to the ground from which we’ve come. Like ashes, though, we will be made pure in death. We live in hope that our earthly selves will pass away, while the divine within each of us will live forever.

This is the hard reality and the great hope of Ash Wednesday: From dust we come, and to dust we shall return.

Midterm Examen

2007-02-14T23:14:00.000-06:00

Well, we’re now on the other side of the Young Adult Volunteer hill. Today marks the halfway point in this year’s experience in Nashville. And so far, this experience has been every bit as transforming as it was advertised to be. I have been in situations I never thought I would see, I have met interesting people who have been both loving and cruel to themselves and those around them, I have made some life-long friends, and I have even learned to enjoy eating grits.

Each night (or I should say, most nights) at the Toolshed, the four of us gather to engage in a spiritual practice called the examen. This is a time of looking back on the day that has passed that calls to mind both the good and bad things that have happened. The pattern we have typically followed is a sharing of each day’s high and low point. Another way of saying this is “when did I feel God’s presence most closely, and when did I feel that God was farthest from me?” This not only keeps us aware of what is going on in one another’s’ lives, but allows us an opportunity to engage in some serious reflection about what has gone on during the day. The examen is a useful tool for vocational discernment as well. For example, if I make a habit of saying “the low point of my day was the eight hours when I had to work with homeless people and the high point of my day was when it was time to come home from work,” then I can probably take from this that my calling is probably not to work with the homeless.

So, here is a little examen, looking back at the highs and lows of last five and a half months.

Discerning my Vocation
I have been confronted several times this year with Frederick Beuchner’s definition of vocation as the place where one’s deepest needs meet the world’s greatest hunger. At the beginning of the year, I came into this experience thinking that I would be led through some process that would give me a road map of my future. I, through the help of our fantastic vocational discernment specialist Janet Salyer, have broadened my definition of vocation from a basic “what am I going to do when I grow up” to a more intense questioning of what God is calling me to be at any given moment. Few receive a direct life plan from heaven in the form of some divine edict. For most of us, we can discern what God wants us to do as a next step. For me, I am less sure that I want to head to seminary right away next year than I was in September, when I viewed this year as just a logical stepping stone between college and seminary. It is still what I want to do, but I have realized there is no reason to be in a hurry.

Second Presbyterian

People from outside the congregation always ask us what church we decided to attend in Nashville, and we always say, “Second Pres., but we really didn’t have a choice in the matter.” Even though I didn’t have a choice, and I haven’t been to any of the other Presbyterian churches here, I am pretty sure Second would be the church I’d end up a part of anyway. Second is a demonstration in many ways of what it means to be countercultural. Nashville is home to more churches per capita than any other city, most of those being of the conservative evangelical variety. A view of abortion and homosexuality as the most pressing moral issues is not uncommon here in the “buckle of the Bible belt,” rather than those that Jesus focused on such as loving our poor and oppressed neighbors. Second is a church that isn’t afraid to be a little different and I appreciate that. It has also been interesting to see Second Presbyterian transform itself from a church that primarily viewed itself as the church that is rebuilding from a fire, to a church that has had its identity changed back to what I assume it was before the 2003 fire. The beautiful new church building inspires its members to worship enthusiastically and remember those outside its walls. It says a lot that they are willing to host four young people to serve the community in an intense way on their behalf, and provide a mother figure (Susan) to take care of us.

Intentional Christian Community
The absolute best part of this experience so far has been the one that happens inside The Toolshed. I can’t imagine that four more compatible people could have been chosen to inhabit 600 square feet of house behind Second Presbyterian. Chasie, Tara and Patrick have become a second family to me in our time together. My favorite times are the ones where we are all sitting on our couches together in the living room just talking. Tara and I will start bantering about something, usually an expression of our well-churched dorkiness. I’ll start bragging about my ordination as a deacon and start putting down the others for being “lay people” and then it’s all downhill from there as we start talking about the value of blue vs. purple as the seasonal color of Advent. Then one of the girls will throw something at me so they can make fun of me for not being able to catch anything. Our household is great.

The Campus
Working at the Campus for Human Development has given me a glimpse into the life of our society’s bottom class. I work on a daily basis with people who depend on government and charity for their every need. They often are used to being looked at with looks of disgust, and most have problems with substance abuse. I have seen a lot of things in the past few months. I’ve stood in human waste, I’ve broken up fights, I’ve caught a drug deal in progress, I’ve seen people with black eyes and bloodied lips who have been beaten up, I’ve been called every name in the book and probably some ones that aren’t even in the book, I’ve seen one too many people drunk off mouthwash, and I’ve been coughed on and sneezed on by people who are carrying who knows what disease. Yet, in the midst of all this, I have come to love the work that I have been doing, and can imagine few things as fulfilling as working at the Campus. The thing I love is that this is an organization that is really founded upon the principles of Christianity. We do not try to get people to convert to our religious views, but rather live them out in daily life. It is an honor to know, serve, and be served by the homeless. The thing I’ve been most impressed about at the Campus is the sense of hope that arises out of ugly situations. No matter what has gone on during the day, we always find something to laugh about. It is a place that is filled with the feeling of family. My favorite times at the Campus have been the times when I have felt like we were making a home for people. They have been the times when a woman decorated our Christmas tree with things she had purchased, when people have apologized to me for saying something they shouldn’t have said, when people have come up and made sure that I was okay after somebody was yelling at me, or when someone just comes up and says “thank you for everything you’ve done for me.” The Campus staff is filled with true professionals who don’t always have the answers, but seldom fail to act without respect for each person as a child of God.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

I am so thankful that I ended up in Nashville. When I initially applied for the YAV program, it was mostly as a back up for the actual position I wanted in the Young Adult Intern program. I know that God called me to this time and place, and I am thankful that my calling was shared by three other outstanding people that we could share in this experience together. Writer (and Presbyterian) Anne LaMotte says that there are really only two prayers that she needs: “help me, help me, help me,” and “thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Hebrews 13:2

2007-02-07T22:07:00.000-06:00

From The Tennessean:

English now official language of Metro: Council passes controversial law

And in very related news from CNN.com:

Klan growing, fed by anti-immigrant feelings

Whether you're wearing white sheets and burning crosses or wearing suits and serving on Metro Council, the message is the same.

"As I long for my Indiana home..."

2007-02-04T22:23:00.000-06:00

GO COLTS!

One Day

2007-02-03T11:26:00.000-06:00

Thursday, February 1, 2007

6:45 A.M. :: The T-Mobile jingle (duh-da-duh-da-dum…duh-da-duh-da-dum…) wakes me up as it does every day from my cell phone/alarm clock. This is a great way to advertise.

6:55 A.M. :: I actually wake up for good, as I somehow do every day. I look out the window to see how much snow we got. There was a light dusting on my windshield.

7:46 A.M. :: How do I manage to get into my car every day at the same exact time? I drive to the Campus. I accidentally drive about 35 miles per hour through a school zone by Carter Lawrence School on 12th Avenue. I slow down to the required 15 about 30 feet from the sign that marks the end of the zone, knowing that people actually obey school zone speeds here, unlike in Indiana where they are merely a 25 MPH formality. I am paranoid about seeing police lights in my rear view mirror the whole way to work.

7:57 A.M. :: I get to the Campus. I find a parking spot that isn’t in the middle of the lot, which is where you park if you get there later in the morning.

8:00 A.M. :: The police arrive and I start to run for cover since I’m sure they’re looking for me to give me my speeding ticket. My fears are relieved when they explain that they’re responding to a complaint about prank calls being made from the day room telephone during the early morning hours.

8:02 A.M. :: I unlock the door to the Campus and give the three women who are always first in line a hard time.

8:03 A.M. :: I remember why we dread the first of the month. The good part of it is that the Campus has funds again to help people get their Tennessee State ID cards, birth certificates, prescriptions, Traveler’s Aid vouchers and Salvation Army clothing vouchers. The bad part is that it all requires a lot of paperwork. And all the requests come in at once.

9:00 A.M. :: I first hear that one of our participants, and one who I have gotten to know pretty well, who is in a coma following a lethal combination of pre-existing health conditions, and ingesting a deadly mix of painkiller and alcohol. Some of the other guys bring me his and his girlfriend’s bags that they took from Room In The Inn, where he was found unconscious and bleeding heavily this morning, to put in my office.

9:45 A.M. :: It’s time for the store. Within about two minutes of opening the store, where we allow people to exchange points that they earn by going to classes for useful items such as hats, gloves, underwear, du-rags, hair brushes, radios, notebooks and the like, I was ready to close it. People were complaining that we were cheating them out of points, and that we didn’t have good enough things and that we didn’t have the things they wanted. Just as I was about to give some people a little talking to about appreciating this free stuff we were letting them have, a man thanked me for what we were doing and I remembered to not take the groaning of the masses so seriously.

10:20 A.M. :: I close the store on time, which is something I am a stickler about. There is actually nobody I have to turn away. Usually, if I don’t turn people away, I’d be there for the rest of the day.

10:30 A.M. :: I am in the copy room trying to print something onto Campus letterhead to help a lady in her search for housing. I hear Anneice paging me, so I call her. “The sheriff is here to see you.” I figure that he is there to take me away for speeding through the school zone, but I go downstairs anyway. He just wants to put a warrant or something in the mail room like usual.

11:00 A.M. :: We are trying to find some family contact information for the man who is dying at the hospital. His girlfriend (who would probably be his wife in any other setting) is on the phone with us asking if we know anyone in his family to contact because she doesn’t.

11:30 A.M. :: It is time for lunch at the Campus, which we serve each Thursday. As I’m locking the door as we close before lunch time, the woman who is the partner (for lack of a better term) of the dying man comes in the door crying. I ask her what is going on, and she tells me that she is there to get his ID card for the hospital. His heart has stopped beating twice and he has been revived both times. I take her back to my office to get his wallet. She cries, and my eyes well up. She says, “Jeff, what will I do if he dies? I’ll be all alone.” I manage to say something about how we at the Campus are her family. She says, “My daddy just died, now he’s gonna die…what is God punishing me for…why does God hate me like this?” I don’t know what to say.

11:40 A.M. :: Lunch is well underway. I don’t really help much and I kind of wander around a little. Sandwiches are being served, so it is a pretty easy meal to handle.

11:45 A.M. :: I am pouring out the big can of beer that was handed to me from the man’s belongings that are in my office into the sink in Fred and Anneice’s office. I walk into the hallway and join the woman, Anneice and the volunteer who leads Bible study in a prayer.

12:15 P.M. :: I eat with Anneice, Marcus (our new Vanderbilt football player intern), and Stacy, a volunteer from Trevecca. We laugh about some of our most eccentric participants (the one who takes all of his clothes off when he gets high, the one that keeps making baby noises, etc.).

1:15 P.M. :: Thank God the checks are finally here. The first of the month is when everybody gets their government checks. That means that many people have been hanging around for the last three weeks waiting on that next check to come so they can spend it in the first week of the month on things like food, bills, and adding a hefty portion to their savings accounts in hopes of saving for a down payment on housing. And by food, bills and savings, I mean cheap motel rooms, crack, and booze. That is the sad life of a person who is addicted.

2:45 P.M :: I’m staffing the day room by myself since most of the others got off work at 2:30. There’s just a small crowd there getting their daily dose of Miami Vice (we had been in a routine of watching Bonanza and Gunsmoke, but TV Land changed the times, before that, they always wanted to watch Charmed (aka “the show with those witches”)). Many people have gone to get what must be so tempting, a motel room.

3:15 P.M. :: One of the participants is helping me run the phone list so I don’t have to worry about resetting the timer ever 7 minutes while I’m making endless runs to get cough drops and cold pills for people.

3:55 P.M. :: I turn off the TV in the day room and begin my “okay, everybody start heading toward the door” routine.

3:57 P.M. :: I start to worry that one of the guys is dead when I try to wake him up for about 45 seconds by shouting at him and shaking him. He finally wakes up.

4:02 P.M. :: The last people finally file out, leaving the staff with a huge pile of bags to carry outside.

4:10 P.M. :: We finally begin our daily staff wrap-up meeting, where we discuss participants, suspensions that we have given (i.e. the difference between a day for basic cussing and a month for verbal abuse), property matters, and which staff members will be out the next day. Most of the meeting is spent discussing the man in a coma and the needs of his girlfriend and the church that found him covered in blood.

4:15 P.M. :: One of our guys is dead. Though we don’t know it yet, the man in the hospital has been removed from life support. I would find that out the next morning when I walk in and see that we are beginning a moment of silence and an impromptu 5-minute memorial service for him.

4:25 P.M. :: It’s time to go home. It’s always a chore to make sure I don’t hit anybody with my car as I’m pulling out of the lot. I watch my speed all the way back through Music Row and down Belmont Boulevard in case the police have been hunting for me all day.

7:30 P.M. :: My roommates are finally all home. It’s community night, so we all eat together. It was so nice of the people from church to bring us white chili, salad, chips, and fruit the night before. There was enough to stretch into two nights.

8:30 P.M. :: This is one of our less well planed out community nights, and we’re all kind of looking at each other to see what we should do. We are all a little too tired from the day to talk about Marjorie Thompson’s Soul Feast like we started last week, so we really don’t do anything else, which is alright by me for this night.

9:00 P.M. :: I catch up on some e-mails, and start writing this blog entry.

10:45 P.M. :: It’s time for bed.

11:15 P.M. :: I put down my Time magazine and turn out the light. Another day of living is over.

The Tennessee Waltz

2007-01-21T14:13:00.000-06:00

Here are some pictures to illustrate what's been going on in my life for the last month or so. I love hearing back from those who read my blog, so please remember to leave a comment every now and again with any reflections, questions or comments you might have for me. Also, remember that my blog posts can be e-mailed directly to you as I publish them, so please let me know if you are interested in that.

Click on the pictures and they should enlarge.

The Indiana State women's basketball team played in the Holiday Tournament at Vanderbilt right before Christmas. Michael and Douglas Shaw along with my brother Brian came down for the games. It was nice to see them and about 40 other Sycamore fans who made the trip.

The final score of the tournament's championship game: #13 Vanderbilt 89, Indiana State 75. It was a very respectable showing for playing the 13th best team in the NCAA on its home floor.

With all the attention that had to be given to my grandpa's illness during December, the tree at home didn't get decorated until the 23rd. The Moles family tree was shaped like a Hershey's Kiss this year.

Back in Nashville: January 6

Since we are in the Nashville Epiphany Project, we celebrated Epiphany by cooking dinner together. Tara, Patrick and I made some chicken fajitas and a pear-chocolate-ice cream desert out of Tara's new Rachael Ray cookbook.

It was a nice surprise to come home this past Monday night to a birthday party! Since my actual birthday was New Year's Eve, my roommates threw me a little party on Martin Luther King Day. "Jefe" is my nickname around the Toolshed. Jefe (pronounced "heffay" for us non-Spanish speakers) means "boss." I think I got that nickname because I am the oldest and, of course, who would question my authority?

I was warmly welcomed.

Patrick cooked dinner, which was potato soup. He did a good job!

After dinner, we played one of my favorite games: Trivial Pursuit 90's Edition. Tara and Chasie won.

We had the unique opportunity to attend Tennessee Governor Phil Bredesen's Inaugural Balls last night. He especially wanted me there because I have become such an important part of this state. Okay, so maybe we went because we saw that free tickets were available to the public, and we were lucky enough to get them. In this picture is country singer (can you imagine that in Nashville?) Josh Gracin, who apparently was on American Idol.

Governor Bredesen (a Democrat!) and First Lady Andrea Conte danced the official first dance of his second term to "The Tennessee Waltz." The Pioneer Ball was held at The Wildhorse Saloon, which is the place where they used to film that line dancing tv show.

The night was a lot of fun, and it was definitely an interesting people-watching event.

There was another ball at BB King's Blues Club, and our tickets were actually for it, but it was too crowded.

Of course the Governor wanted my opinions on policy matters, so he was sure to come over and talk with me. Well, at least he shook my hand and thanked me for being there. Unfortunately, my camera takes so long to actually take a picture, I have a picture from about 3 seconds later.

Jo Dee Messina was the headliner of the Pioneer Ball.

All of Tennessee's finest were there.

All three of us saw people we knew at the Ball. Tara saw a high school guy she met through Conexion Americas. Chasie saw a friend from Rhodes College (who is an actual Rhodes Scholar). I saw some homeless friends when we were outside afterward. Not being able to walk around downtown anonymously is a side effect of working at the Campus.

The Drum Major Instinct

2007-01-20T17:13:00.000-06:00

This year’s celebration of Martin Luther King Day was different for me. It wasn’t just a day off this time around. (And yes, I was the only one of my housemates who had to get up and go to work on Monday.) It was the first time I’d actually spent Martin Luther King Day with a group of people who were mostly African Americans. I was with people who marched with King and one who was in Memphis the day he was killed. Racism is a reality of life in all communities—rich or poor. Many times it manifests itself in more subtle ways among the rich. The first thing I noticed as I drove my car into the Campus parking lot on Monday was that all of the Hispanic guys were standing together, separate from the rest of the group. Within the bigger group of homeless people gathering waiting for us to open there were small pockets of white guys standing together among the black majority. This is no different than the way the housed divide up into different neighborhoods based on race. It’s not uncommon for me to hear something like “well I know you guys only help black people here,” or “of course you don’t do anything for black people,” or “how come you let those Spanish-speaking people in here? This is America.”

During the day, we had many activities to celebrate MLK Day. I was in charge of making table tents for the tables that included quotes from Dr. King. We had classes for people to attend, including literature, a motivational session, and art projects. I led a Martin Luther King trivia class, where we played Jeopardy-style. It was interesting to see how most of the people knew everything possible about Martin Luther King, Jr., while one young man who I persuaded to come knew absolutely nothing (he also didn’t know what Easter celebrated). But, we played on teams so nobody felt left out, and we had a really good time.

The best part of the day for me, was when we showed a DVD of some speeches by Dr. King. Listening to the “I Have a Dream” speech in the crowded day room was a moving experience as people shouted their “amens” and focused more closely on King’s words than I’ve seen them focus on anything else since I’ve been there. I looked around the room and noticed all the faces that were there—the oppressed people of today who people want to keep in ghettos. These are the people who we’re trying to keep out of our restrooms and restaurants and out of sight.

When I got in my car at the end of the day, I noticed that the Hispanic guys were still standing by themselves by the shed, and the white guys were still together, and the black people were still a little suspicious that we weren’t celebrating Martin Luther King Day to the extent that we should have. In the outside world, people were still trying to make English-only legislation and build border fences. The wealthiest 20% of people still owned over half of our nation’s wealth, while the poorest 20% only had about 4% while the gap continues to widen.

The dream is still a dream.

Open our ears and loosen our tongues.

2007-01-20T16:02:00.000-06:00

One morning this week as I was working at the support desk, being stretched more thinly than normal because of some staffing shortages, I got to see something in person that I’ve never seen before (not that that’s unusual at the Campus). There was a woman speaking in tongues. She had come in looking for a homeless gentleman she needed to give something to, but she could not find him. I figured she had left, but as I was trying to do a million other things I all of a sudden heard some passionate voices, which usually means trouble. This time it was prayer. It was a vigorous and loud and rocking kind of prayer that Presbyterians don’t usually pray (at least aloud in public). This woman was pulling participants aside and offering to pray with them. Her Pentecostal style of praying, with tongues that I’ve only heard on religious TV channels, was completely foreign to my experience as a Christian. I wasn’t sure what to make of this, and I’m still not.

Thursday evening, we went to an ecumenical worship service at Christ the King Catholic Church to celebrate the first day of the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity. The service was sponsored by Second Presbyterian, Christ the King and the Nashville Community of Sant’Egidio. Jim Kitchens and John McClure participated in the service’s leadership. The theme of this year’s international celebration is “Open our Ears and Loosen Our Tongues,” based on Mark 7:37 (“He even makes the deaf to hear and the mute to speak.”) The service at Christ the King opened with three minutes of silence that began with this invitation:

Let us keep silence before God…silent within ourselves…opening our hearts to the silence of our sisters and brothers living in suffering: “if one member suffers, all suffer together” (1 Cor 12:26).
May our ears be opened by this silence in communion with those whose voice we do not hear, either because they keep silent or they are silenced. Let us hear the call of Christ to the suffering of others, placing us firmly as Christians of all confessions before our common responsibilities.

It was easy for me to conjure up the sounds of the silenced. Those are the sounds that I sometimes have a hard time shaking at the end of the day. My co-workers at the Campus and I have talked about how the dreams we have at night that are so often centered around the people we work with during the day. And though I usually don’t remember specifics about what I am dreaming about, what I usually do remember is being awakened by the noise of people yelling or calling my name.

There are big gaps between Christians. There are walls of silence such as the one between the conservative Pentecostals like the woman who was speaking tongues the other day and the liberal Presbyterians like me. Those walls exist between Christians who experience God in informal churches that meet in huge arenas and those who worship using ordered liturgies. There is silence between Christians for whom the primary task of faith is to convert others and those who see working toward social justice as the most important thing, and even those who land somewhere in the middle. What if in our silence, our ears could be opened, despite our many differences, to the cries of those who are our common responsibilities?

I still don’t understand why or how that woman at the Campus was speaking in tongues. But, I do know that she and I were there for the same reason: because God calls us all to hear the silenced, however feeble our efforts may be. May we all pray for a day when together, the body of Christ can join as the church with open ears and able to speak and live the good news together in a world that so deeply needs to hear it.

This was the final blessing given at the ecumenical service on Thursday night:

“As you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.” Mt 25:40

“Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.” Mt 11:28

Dear friends, these words of Christ apply to each and every one of us. Christ is close to us in the heart of our actions, including our ecumenical actions, as well as in the suffering of the sick, the solitude and discouragement of many of us. He supports us in our weakness. He is our consolation and blessing.

Blessed be the Lord our God for the love which you have shown us
through Jesus Christ our Lord.
In him who loved us we are conquerors over hardship, distress, persecution, famine, nakedness, peril and the sword.

In the silence of abandonment and solitude,
of sickness and death,
pour out the riches of your blessing,
that we may ever be more faithful to serve you
in our sisters and brothers,
and that our joy to do your will be ever greater.

We bless you and glorify you,
for you listen to the silence of our hearts.
You act within us with power, healing us and leading us
to speak in the name of Jesus, your Son.

Send us into the world to carry out your will
and to break down the walls of silence which separate us.
May we witness to you, our only Saviour,
being ever more united by “one faith and one baptism.”

And may we grow in grace
and in the peace of God which passes all understanding,
that your name may be glorified.
Amen.

Epiphanies

2007-01-06T22:14:00.000-06:00

Since this is the twelfth and final day of Christmas--Epiphany, and I am spending my year in the Nashville Epiphany Project, I figured it would be a good day to post. Beginning on this day and in the weeks that follow during Ordinary Time, the church focuses on the stories of Christ's revealing as the messiah. Starting with the story of the visiting magi, and continuing with stories of Jesus' baptism (this is my son...), the wedding at Cana, stories of healing and preaching, and ending with the mysterious story of the transfiguration of Jesus, we see how the people of 2000 years ago had epiphanies in their own lives about the identity of Jesus.

This year is all about finding God in places that we don't expect to find anything divine. It is about going to the places in this particular community of Nashville that the world has forgotten or loves to hate, whether that's in a community of immigrants who aren't welcome in the place that they have come to make a new life for them and their families, or in low-income housing projects where single mothers do their best to keep their children from the ever present dangers of drugs and violence, or an alleyway on 8th Avenue South where lonely and angry people look to another can of beer as their source of comfort. The message of Christmas is that Jesus came into the world and has walked in the shoes of the unwelcome stranger, the struggling parent, and the homeless addict. The best place to look for God isn't in the coffee shop at your mega-church, or in a great piece of religious art, or even in the sermon at church on Sunday, though God certainly is in all of those places. The best place for the epiphanies of our own lives to happen--to recognize that God is with us--is in looking at the direct image of God in our neighbors. In the weaving of hearts and the passing of peace in worship, in helping the grieving, in loving the poor, in welcoming others: this is where Epiphany happens.

The Work of Christmas

by Howard Thurman

"When the song of the angels is stilled,

When the star in the sky is gone,

When the kings and princes are home,

When the shepherds are back with their flock,

The work of Christmas begins:

To find the lost,

To heal the broken,

To feed the hungry,

To release the prisoner,

To rebuild the nations,

To bring peace among brothers,

To make music in the heart."

— The Mood of Christmas, 23

It's been a long December, but there's reason to believe...

2006-12-31T22:24:00.000-06:00

Did You Know?

Some people attend parties on New Year's Eve, while others celebrate their birthday/new years by blogging!

Every week in Newsweek, the Conventional Wisdom Watch section gives up or down arrows to people and things that have been in the news. So I thought I’d review the year 2006 in a similar fashion. Who was up? What was down? Who was somewhere in the middle? Have a happy 2007!

↑ Beans – I’ve never been too excited about a plate of beans staring up at me from the table. I have been attempting to expand my food repertoire, and have been increasing the amount of beans I’ve been eating. Over the week of Christmas, in fact, I quite enjoyed green bean casserole and refried beans.

↑ Tennessee – I remember last Thanksgiving during an ISU basketball game vs. Middle Tennessee State at the Hulman Center that I remarked to our out of town relatives from Boston that “at least Indiana is a whole lot better than Tennessee.” Well, I ended up living there about 10 months later. I have to say it isn’t quite as bad as I always imagined. So far, I have not been recruited for Klan membership or anything.

↑ Steamers – I’ve always been someone who had trouble stopping myself from getting my normal grande vanilla latte when I go out for coffee at night. When I do that, I end up being awake until 3:00am. Ordering a caramel steamer is my new solution. I’d recommend the soul-warming taste of a steamed milk with caramel syrup to anyone.

↑ Stingrays – I have more respect for these creatures. I will not be attending the stingray petting zoo at Opry Mills anytime soon.

↑ Sycamore Men’s Basketball – The Indiana State men’s basketball team could go nowhere but up after the beginning of 2006, when we lost like 11 in a row after starting last season 8-0. The good news was that last season we beat IU, Northern Iowa (while they were ranked), Southern Illinois (breaking their longest-in-the-nation home winning streak), and Bradley (Sweet 16 team). The Missouri Valley has risen to be one of the best conferences in Division 1—it’s currently ranked third behind the PAC-10 and the ACC (ahead of the Big 10, Big 12, SEC, etc). So far this season, ISU has been pretty good. They have been the only team to beat nationally ranked Butler, and while I’ve been home for Christmas, they blew out Purdue and came back from a 17-point defecit to beat Drake. Plus, the men’s games are now as fun as the women’s ones to attend.

↔ Sycamore Women’s Basketball – The women’s team finished last season 27-6, but nothing went right from about March 1 on. They never made it into the actual top-25 polls (they were usually sitting right on top of the “others receiving votes” section). They lost the tournament championship game (for the third year of the last four), and didn’t get that at-large bid in the NCAA tourney that all the experts predicted. We lost in the 2nd round of the WNIT to IU of all teams. Then, our star point guard Melanie Boeglin, who everybody predicted would be picked in the late 1st or early 2nd round of the WNBA draft didn’t get drafted. The good news is that the new team this season is off to a great start and will be better than the conference championship team from last year that got no respect.

↑ Nancy Pelosi – A woman will be 3rd in line to the presidency in a few weeks. She was villified in countless Republican campaign commercials as some evil liberal from San Francisco, yet the grand new party actually took back both houses of Congress, which I would never have thought possible a year ago.

↓ Republicans – Ha Ha!

↑ The Trinity – Many people were upset at the report on the Holy Trinity that came before the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) General Assembly this summer because, affirming the traditional Father-Son-Holy Spirit language for the trinity, it suggested some other images that might be used to more fully understand the Trinity. I think being able to imagine a mystery in ways that might include more feminine (gasp!) language is good theology.

↔ Country Music – Although I’m surrounded by country music in Music City, I am not planning to become a fan anytime soon. Okay, so maybe I’ve enjoyed a little bit of bluegrass, though.

↓ Animals – I have little appreciation for them, whether they are cats that throw up all over the place or mice in my office.

↓ Television – Maybe it would be better if we had cable. Really, I’ve only watched the local news since September.

↔ Spiders – Brown recluses are a little bit freaky, but they haven’t killed any of us – yet.

↑ Small homes – I think cramming as many people as possible into small spaces will soon become all the rage.

↔ Advent Wreaths – I get excitement out of celebrating the liturgical year, but we need an edict from the pope or General Assembly or someone about the proper color scheme for the Advent season. I am all into blue—which seems to be the trend. I hear it was Mary’s favorite color (she’s always wearing it—just look at the next nativity scene you see). Others insist that purple is the best color, and some try to throw in that pink candle for gaudete Sunday.

↑ Lutherans (ELCA, of course) – I have been extremely blessed in the past year by the people at Trinity Lutheran in Terre Haute where I worked as music director for three years. They threw a real nice shindig (no, the South is not affecting my vocabulary!) for me when I left, and have been very good about keeping in touch with me since I’ve been in Nashville.

↑ Curb Your Enthusiasm – This show is hillarious. It’s on HBO, and I’ve been watching it on DVD a lot this year.

↓ Movies – I’ve realized I only enjoy movies that fall into two genres: comedies and documentaries. That’s a little strange, isn’t it.

↑ Communion – I didn’t realize how much I loved having weekly communion at church until I came to Nashville and didn’t have that anymore at Second. The Lord’s Supper has historically been the central part of weekly worship, and John Calvin thought it was good to have weekly communion, yet the majority of Presbyterians still don’t do it (though more are all the time). What’s the deal?

↓ Paychecks – I now work forty hours a week, and make less than half of what I did working 15 hours a week at the church.

↑ Smart Alecks – I’ve discovered being one of these is one of my spiritual gifts. It will either make me millions or get me killed (possibly before this year is out!).

HOME

2006-12-23T22:25:00.000-06:00

With a flash of lightning and a clap of thunder, my Grandpa Moles died on Friday at about five minutes until two in the morning. Brian and I had gotten to Union Hospital about an hour earlier. As we were passing the Vigo County fairgrounds on our way home from Nashville, Sarah called to tell us that Grandpa’s nurse had wisely let the family know that it was time for all of us to be at the hospital.

The man that was lying in the hospital bed, ravaged from the cancer and its treatment and the host of other problems that popped up since last Thanksgiving was different from the always-strong pillar of strength that I had known for the 25 years before. Indeed, Thursday night was the first time I had ever seen him in the role of hospital patient. Aunt Barb has remarked several times that she just assumed, as I think most of us did, that Grandpa would live 100+ years like his mother did.

Though we know that nothing will ever be the same, we will always have our memories of the home that he and grandma together created for those of us in our family and those outside as well. It isn’t only memories of family holidays and frequent evening visits to their house, but the memories of the neighborhood kids always being welcome with Mr. Moles. The family on my grandma’s side has found a true home at their house over the years, and their Uncle Will was just as close to them as their own fathers. A trip to 3017 Putnam Street is a trip home for so many people.

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THE MOST BEAUTIFUL CHRISTMAS TREE

All this thinking about home has been on my mind a lot lately as I’ve had the opportunity over the last four months to serve and be served by those who are home-less. Something that many of us forget about is that homeless often does not mean just houseless, but truly without a home, the foundation that most of us are privileged to build our lives around. I was reminded of this during the past week when Cricket phones came to the Campus to let people make long distance calls to get in touch with family and friends during the holidays. It was an agonizing decision for many of our participants whether or not to make that call to families that have often rejected them (unfortunately for what are often understandable reasons). I thought about the importance of home when one of our participants proudly introduced me to his young grandson on Thursday morning who was with his mother for a half hour or so Christmas visit in our parking lot. I also was reminded of the importance of home on the occasions in the past month when two of our homeless participants have come to us because they learned of the deaths of family members through the media. The teary-eyed man who showed us his own son’s obituary this week that he had found in the newspaper that morning was a tragic display of home-lessness.

One of the epiphanies I’ve had this year is that I am helping in a very small way to create home for people. This becomes true whenever somebody asks me to be a reference for them on a job application. I usually think something like, “but I hardly even know you,” but then I realize that to them, the staff members at the Campus for Human Development are those who know them best and are the ones that they can trust. People have put the Campus down as their next of kin to be notified at the time of their deaths.

The most amazing demonstration of the power of home that is offered at the Campus came a few weeks ago when we were getting the Christmas decorations out (and no, we never got around to getting them all the way out, though we tried several times). We had thrown some decorations on the tree. Several participants wanted to help, which was nice to see. We had been told that we couldn’t put lights on the tree, because of rules from the fire marshal. By the end of the day, we had a pretty nice tree, though it certainly wasn’t the best in holiday fashion that Music City had to offer.

At the end of the next day, I noticed that there was some added sparkle to the tree. There were some new silver icicles on the tree, and assumed that somebody had gotten them out of storage. The day after that, after lunch, I happened upon an older woman and a tall younger man putting some additional mylar streamers and ornaments on the tree. I started talking to them about how nice the tree was starting to look. I asked where they found the decorations that they were adding, and the woman answered that she had bought them at the dollar store because she wanted the Campus to have a nice tree. She had taken what little money she had and bought decorations for the tree that was hers. It struck me that this was these people’s Christmas tree. They did not go home at night to another one like I did. The fostering of a small sense of home is what the Campus is about. Thanks to over 150 churches in Nashville, all will be able to get a taste of home in a warm church building on Christmas Eve or Christmas night through Room in the Inn.

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My family’s home will never be the same without Grandpa there. Nobody will be sitting in his chair, although Grandma is thinking about moving hers to his old spot so somebody can see when a car pulls into their driveway. I probably won’t be called Jeff-a-rey any time soon. I no longer know anyone whose favorite song is “The Red River Valley,” or anyone who can grow tomatoes that taste so good.

In the wee hours of Friday morning when the moment came that we had all been ready for, but dreading at the same time, God gave us the sign that someone new had entered the eternal home that awaits us. As Grandpa took his last labored breath and his body went limp, a flash of lightning lit the dark room and a single comforting clap of thunder rang out. A new voice had joined the heavenly host which once proclaimed to the poorest of those in a small Middle Eastern town a new home-coming of God into human skin. In the birth of Christ, God forever joined the frailty and temporary nature of humanity with the perfect and eternal nature of the divine. Indeed, we rejoice that nothing in life or death can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus, our Lord.

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Wilfred E. “Will” Moles

Wilfred E. “Will” Moles, 86, of Terre Haute, passed away at 1:55 a.m. Friday Dec. 22, 2006 in Union Hospital. He retired from the federal prison, where he was a teacher of diesel and farm machinery repairs.

He was born Feb. 7, 1920 in Belknap, Mont., to Albert Moles and Sophia Skierka Moles. He married Agnes Smith Moles on Jan. 16, 1949.Survivors include his wife; one daughter, Barb Goltry and her husband Jeff of Logansport; one son, Jim Moles and his wife Cheryl of Terre Haute; three grandchildren, Jeff, Brian and Sarah Moles; and one sister, Altha Thompson. He was preceded in death by his parents; and five brothers, Leo, Lester, Clarence, LaVerne and Louie Moles.

He was a U.S. Army World War II veteran, having served in the 607th Tank Destroyer Batallion, Normandy Invasion and the Battle of the Bulge. He was a member of Central Presbyterian Church, Veteran of Foreign Wars Post 972, Wayne Newton American Legion Post 346, Federal Prison Retirees Association and National Association of Retired Federal Employees.

Funeral services are 10:30 a.m. Wednesday in Callahan-DeBaun Funeral Home, 2425 Wabash Ave., with the Rev. Lant Davis officiating. Visitation is 3 to 7 p.m. Tuesday in the funeral home. Burial is in Oak Hill Cemetery, with military graveside rites conducted by VFW Post 972. Memorial contributions may be made to Central Presbyterian Church or Vista Care Hospice.

See Rock City and other adventures

2006-12-17T22:44:00.000-06:00

SEE ROCK CITY
Last weekend, we had our first visit to one of our homes. During our first week in Nashville, we made plans to visit Chattanooga during Christmastime to see the “Enchanted Garden of Lights” at the world-famous Rock City, which is situated atop Lookout Mountain, where Chasie grew up. We slid in right at the last possible moment, and got to take the special holiday walking tour. We got to see some cool gnomes and fairies, and definitely saw glow in the dark models of every fairy tale and nursery rhyme ever written. After a late-night dinner with Chasie’s mom, we went to spend the night at her dad’s house on Signal Mountain. She showed us around Chattanooga the next day. It was great to see where Chasie is from and learn more about her.

OLD TIME ROCK AND ROLL
We had to cut and run from Chattanooga last Saturday, because we were given free tickets to the Bob Seger concert that night at the Gaylord Entertainment Center. We had really great seats. We were only asked a few times about why a group of people so young would be at a Bob Seger concert. AARP definitely should have had a recruiting booth there.

I thought the concert was really good, even though I only knew one song that was sung. Apparently several of them are really well known, but I am a little culturally deprived. The sax player, Alto Reed (great name), was the best part of the show. Well, maybe the best part of the show was seeing all the 50-something baby boomers who were acting crazy, smoking marijuana, and staggering up the steps carrying vomit-filled beer cups. Of course, as seems to happen every time I go somewhere, one of the participants at the Campus saw me at the show, and has been using "hey man, I cleaned up after you at that concert the other night, why can't you do such-and-such for me?"

NASHVILLE UNLIMITED
Wednesday night was the annual Nashville Unlimited Christmas concert to benefit Room in the Inn. It was extremely well attended, and we raised a lot of money for the Campus. The doors had to be shut with about 45 minutes to go until the beginning of the concert. I took people’s donations at the door for a while, and then sold some greeting cards. The concert was really great—all 2-1/2 hours of it. My favorite part of the night was getting to be in the room when Emmylou Harris was warming up before the doors opened. She was really bad in the warm up, but she definitely redeemed herself in the performance. The best part of the sound check was when she accidentally chastised one of her band members over a live mike in front of several people from Christ Church Cathedral: “you can’t say sh** in church!”

THE VERY IMPORTANT CHRISTMAS PAGEANT
Tonight was the Second Pres. Christmas pageant. I led the kids in their singing. Everything went very well, as it always does when you have a bunch of cute kids in the front of the church wearing costumes. We did “The Very Important Christmas Pageant,” by Dennis Hartin, which included some pretty funny lines. The little girl who played Mary really hammed it up.

This is a conversation between Mary and the angel:

(knock on the door)
-Yes?
-Is this the home of Mary, the betrothed of Joseph?
-Yes, it is, but we don’t accept door-to-door solicitations—
-But that’s not why I’m—
-So please put us on your “Do Not Call” list.
-Hail, O Favored One! The Lord is with you!
-I’m sure he is. Have a nice day.
-Please don’t shut the door. I’m here to deliver a message.
-The mailman wears a blue uniform.
-I don’t work for the Postal Service.
-Then, who do you work for?
-Look at the wings. What do they mean?
-You work for the Philadelphia Eagles?
-No, no. I’m an angel.
-Yeah, right. And I’m a pop star.

Instead of saying “and I’m a pop star,” the girl had been saying “and I’m Brittney Spears.” It was hilarious when she changed it up today, while striking a pose, to “and I’m Madonna.”

I’LL BE HOME FOR CHRISTMAS
I do get to spend a week back in Indiana for Christmas. This week, my brother Brian and my friends Doug and Michael are coming to see me here in Nashville. Okay, maybe they’re really coming to see the Indiana State women’s basketball team play in a tournament at Vanderbilt on Wednesday and Thursday. Brian is going to stay here with me, and we will head home on Christmas Eve after church in the morning. I’ll be in Terre Haute through New Year’s Day.

PRAYER REQUESTS
An 18-year-old college freshman who is a member of Second Presbyterian fell 30 feet onto concrete at Smoky Mountain National Park a few days ago, and suffered life threatening brain injuries. Please keep the family of Spence Hobson in your prayers.

Also, please keep my grandpa, Will Moles, in your prayers. He will be at Health South Rehabilitation Hospital in Terre Haute for several weeks after spending time at Union Hospital over the last few weeks. He will be finishing his radiation treatments for his cancer this week.

AND FINALLY

We have been using some great liturgical texts during the Advent season here at Second Pres. Here is the closing litany from today’s service.

Among the poor, among the proud,
Among the persecuted, among the privileged, Christ is coming.