I See

You see a cramped block.

I see a community.

You hear senseless rap, unnecessarily loud.

I hear self-expression.

You see a news story of a shooting.

I see a neighbor get shot.

You see wasteful spending.

I see a celebration.

You see black skin.

I see diversity: dark-skinned, light-skinned, and chocolate.

You see a drug dealer.

I see a man who built a business.

You see drug money.

I see the only capital investment in this neighborhood for decades.

You hear shouting and wailing, a disruption.

I hear worship.

You see a future athlete.

I see a black youth who loves to read, write, paint, and make bracelets.

You see a lazy black woman.

I see a tired but strong mother (and grandmother) with a degree and debilitating chronic pain.

You see another dangerous black man off the streets.
I see the latest victim of the prison industrial complex.

You see a culture of poverty.

I see an oppressive system.

I know what you see because I used to see the same things.

But I heard rumors of something different. So I moved to Southwest Philly.

Relationship--with a person, a place, an institution--changes things. It changed what I saw, heard, felt, thought. It confirmed the truth behind the rumors. There is something different.

Photo credit to Walter Levi Wawra.

Vignettes

As part of Mission Year, we have an hour each week devoted to "Curriculum," when we discuss a book that Mission Year asks all of us to read. We've read books about community development, race, theology of the oppressed, spiritual practices, even one of the gospels! The book we're reading now is called House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros, and it's a series of vignettes. To reflect on the book and our time in Mission Year, we wrote vignettes about our experiences. We're sharing them here for your enjoyment. Some resemble poetry more than a vignette and there's one song, but all reflect on our year.

Arrival

    It’s stuffy and sticky and sleepy in the back seat of the van. The darkness hides all but the whites of her eyes, surveying the new, unfamiliar landscape.

     There are tracks in the middle of the road and cars ride on top of the them with no trouble. What are the tracks for?

     I wonder how long our ride will be. Trips from the airport are always long--“Here we are!”--But not this one.

     “I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’m in the hood; I really can’t believe I’m doing this,” the eyes tell me out of the darkness. I don’t know if it’s an invitation to converse or just a statement. Actually I don’t know anyone or anything. I just get out of the van, into more darkness. Darkness.

Progressive Process

Pennies parting priceless places

Smiles on hurt hearts and broken faces

Who waged which war?

Opinions open onto oppression

Struggle is inevitable

Butter

     On a small street are tall skinny houses that looked as though they've been smashed together. In a house covered in crimson red bricks and a new cast iron gate is a tall fiery woman full of energy that fills her house.
     Her 4 children hold her firecracker personality, she with a heart of gold.
     She strives to offer them the best. After school they run, hide, squirm to get away but she manages to reign them in for more education.
     A small rectangular stick that brings life to any dish resembles her name, and is much like her personality.

The Trained Eye

To the naked, untrained eye

In and out, in and out

People come and go

Up the stairs, down the stairs

Through the door, out the door

In the house, out the house

Things get passed, side to side

In the car, out the car, under the car?

Black bags, rolled up newspapers

The trash pile near the corner of the stoop

Things unseen to the untrained eye

But I see, the smoke after the pick up

What Waits

And are you too blind to see
What waits on the other side

Stuck here held by chains
Like a voice without a name
You are waiting for change
As blame

Drowning in your shame
You turn it all to angst
Eating away your very soul
How you long to be whole

No matter to my words
You close your heart it hurts
I'm only here for a moment
Then I'm gone to the wind

My right hand offers hope
My left hand offers love
Quit drowning in this sea
Quit your dying null to peace

Chorus

Bridge
This my friend is what I see
You keep holding on to be
Let go of yourself my dear
A caged bird can't really sing

Chorus

Sharing Jesus

“Ice Cream!”

A shriek of joy pierces straight through the heavy humid air. The now familiar sound of tiny bells and chimes announcing the presence of the ice cream truck is quickly approaching. I scoop up a child sitting at the top of the stairs and gently place him on the sidewalk.

“You need anything Miss Bella? its gonna be fifty cents left when I get my sandwich.”

“nah, I’m good. Go on, before he leaves!”

I watch him run over and join all the other neighborhood kids at the ice cream truck. Its a weekend symphony that plays in the evening… over and over again the ice cream jingle accompanied by children laughing and shouting to get right up to the window.

My minds eye sees something different. I imagine that the man in the window is something similar to a modern day Jesus; welcoming the children with open arms, songs, and laughter. I imagine that each child that lifts up a dollar, or their spare change, is actually lifting up their hopes and dreams. Each one leaves with a beautiful blessing that suits them… even if its not what everyone else expected.

“Wait, is that a sandwhich?”

“kind of... its like a pretzel with cheese and stuff!

“You got that at the ice-cream truck?”

“yup!”

I laugh and shake my head in disbelief. Literally EVERYTHING comes from that truck! As the stoop of my home fills with kids enjoying their treats, my eyes wander to a child on the otherside of the street. He has no food in hand, no treat from the truck. His eyes catch mine… than he shakes his head and walks away. when he turns the corner, I find i'm not the only one observing him.

“You know him?”

“nah. i’ve seen him though”

“does he live here?”

“He doesn't belong here. He’s not a part of our community.”

I fall silent, mind turning.

I have what I need.
I’m good.

“shouldn't we all be apart of the community?”

“I guess some people don’t like to share.”

Smiles

I turn the corner

62^nd and Reedland

Headphones in my ears and tired after a long day at work

I slowly take them out and my ears fill with new sounds—laughter, conversation, friendship.

I look to my right

     Hello Ms. Liz, Hello Ms. Eva, Hello Ms. Dee

Their smiles and eyes meet mine.

Casual conversation, standing on the porch, leaning on the rails.

Falling into familiarity and comfort

I excuse myself

Hello Aizhe, Hello Nina, Hello Jylen

Another stop, more smiles

Some faces and smiles I know, some are strangers though

Others friends.

I turn and see the trees

Home

Like Family

Although I still have three months left in my Mission Year, it's hard not to think about what I will be doing when my year is over in August. Although there are practical things to think about such as where to live and where I might work, I'm also considering the values I want to live by, values that I've learned to practice in Mission Year.

One of those values is intentional community. We talk about it a lot in Mission Year, and I would say it's one of the main components of the program: living with six other people and committing to sharing not just space but experiences, food, money, and a spiritual journey. It's hard. And as I've thought about what that will look like after this year, I've asked the question, "Who are the people that I want to partner with like this in the future?" 

As I reflect on my Mission Year, I'm realizing that that question is a luxury. Because I didn't have that choice coming into Mission Year. I'm thinking now about friends of mine that I know and trust and would want to join with on a spiritual journey in community. But my time in Mission Year didn't afford me that choice. I was simply assigned six people to live with.

Luckily, they all wanted to go on the same journey, so it has worked out. But that doesn't mean that all of us are compatible or even that we like each other. (I'm pretty sure we do all enjoy each other quite a bit, but that hasn't always been the case.) Regardless of how we feel about each other, we are all in the same boat, so we have chosen to be intentional and forge friendships.

But as I looked toward the future, I thought, "This community thing will be so much easier when I'm with more compatible people," with a little bit of resentment that it didn't meet my idealistic expectations. I figured I could meet those expectations if I could just choose the people I lived with in the coming years. But a simple idea helped me to understand just how beautiful my community is this year. I read it in one of my teammate's newsletters, and it clicked for me! 

We're like family.

We have long called ourselves a family. It wasn't a decision we made; it just happened organically. But now as I think more about it, there isn't a more appropriate term. Like a family, we all live in the same (cramped) house. Like a family, we didn't choose each other. And like a family, we are bound to journey through life together--at least for this year. We can't escape those things, just like a biological family! Our ties are maybe not as permanent as a biological family, but many biological families don't stick together for life either. Like our team, most of them move on to the next stage of life without as close of a tie to each other.

We didn't choose each other and sometimes we may not like each other, but we're committed to loving each other with a love that's deeper than just compatibility. And I think we've done that. So here's to my Mission Year family! May we have three more loving months together and a lifetime of knowing that we will always share a familial bond!

An Experiment with Silence (Part II of II)

For the first week of Lent I practiced silence. That means I didn’t talk for a week! (Well, at least not with my Mission Year team, but that is pretty much my whole life.) In Part I of this post, I wrote about why I chose silence. In Part II I will explore what I learned.

I had hoped that my silence would create moments of reflection. Instead of speaking, I would pause to consider the words that I wanted to speak. In this way, I would learn from my silence. I even hoped to create more space for prayer in the midst of interaction. I thought, “Silence will leave so much room in my brain for other activity!”

In actuality, that extra room in my brain was devoted to finding other ways to communicate. It takes a lot of work to be silent! There are constantly questions of how to engage with what’s going on without speaking. In fact, my first reaction was to be somber and non-participatory. But I quickly realized that silent doesn't mean non-existent! I was still present, and I still had to engage.

How did I engage? For starters, I found myself laughing a lot more. I consider myself a fairly active listener, verbally affirming what people say as they share with me. Laughter is a great way to do that without words. It wasn’t a conscious choice on my part; I wasn’t wracking my brain to figure out how to affirm people. It just happened. I laughed more.

Similarly, I smiled more often. My somber approach to silence quickly got old, and I embraced my usual warmth and felt a need to share in some way that I was enjoying what was going on. Again, not with much thought or intention behind it, I smiled more.

I also touched more. In some ways this was just practical. Bereft of my ability to call someone’s name or refer to them using their name, I had to tap them to get their attention or grasp their arm to show of whom I “spoke.” But touch communicates much more than information, and my touches, like my smiles, became a way to connect with people without words. Instead of showing that I cared by asking, “How was your day?” I would pat a teammate on the back or gently hold their shoulder for a moment to connect with them.

By removing my voice, I remembered that there are many more ways to communicate. We often choose what’s easiest and forget that some of the more meaningful ways to “speak” actually don’t involve words.

Silence also taught me trust. With words we say so many little things: “God bless you” when some sneezes. “Thank you” when someone blesses you. “Yes” when someone inquires if you’re finished with your plate. “Okay” when someone reassures that they’ll do the dishes later.

Without the ability to say those simple things, I had to trust my teammates in simple ways: that they knew I gave them my blessing when they sneezed, that I was thankful their blessing, that I heard their inquiries and would make my objections known if I had any.

But when I had objections, I usually had to extend grace. Conflict resolution, something my teammates and I value and practice, becomes incredibly difficult without words. When I was annoyed or hurt or misunderstood, I just had to let it go. Sometimes I was tempted to record the transgressions to share at the end of my experiment, but I took those times as opportunities to extend grace and forgive.

Something else that happened: I got lonely. I didn't spend any less time with my team during the week. But after a while, even laughter, smiles, and touch could not sustain me. I needed interaction! On the last night of my fast I did some incredibly silly things with a few of my housemates that stayed up later. While they tried to read or write or text friends, I kept doing ridiculous things to get their attention because I had gotten so little of it over the past few days. It wasn’t as though they had been ignoring me. Without words I drew less attention, so I was making up for it that night. My silliness was an expression of an isolation that I often felt during the week.

At certain times others joined in solidarity with my silence, sometimes with intention and sometimes with no other option. A few moments with others that I deeply appreciated during my silence:

• Denise sat with my at the table while I finished up my meal after everyone else had finished eating.
• Sophie and I walked to church together on Wednesday night and worshiped together at the service.
• On our long commute home from our weekly citywide gathering on Thursday night, Walter sat in silence beside me on the trolley…without music. He always listens to music on the trolley, so his simple act showed solidarity with my silence.
• Matt, from the Kensington team, came to our house on our Sabbath to watch Star Wars with me. All we did was sit and watch the movie.

There were moments when it was much more difficult than others to keep my mouth shut. Those moments usually came when I knew something that no one else knew. It killed me to not share. It was so painful sometimes that I had to leave the room to keep quiet. Those moments were not unexpected. In fact, you may remember from my first blog about this that I hoped this experiment would expose my pride and humble me.

Those moments became opportunities to practice submission. On one level I submitted to silence, restraining myself from sharing knowledge. On another level I submitted to what was agreed upon or decided by my team. I had to abide by a decision that was made without my special knowledge, a painful yet useful practice.

New ways of communicating, trust, appreciation, humility: these things I learned. So what now? 

Well, silence was just the beginning of my Lenten journey this year. There are still several more weeks until Easter, and my team and I continue to withhold negative comments about others or ourselves. My silence was impactful indeed, but I can't continue in life without speaking. Speech is powerful, as James wrote in the Bible, "The tongue also is a fire, a world of evil among the parts of the body. It corrupts the whole body, sets the whole course of one's life on fire, and is itself set on fire by hell" (3:6). I've heard of Christian communities who live forever in silence to keep from unleashing the potential evil of the tongue.

But I don't want to live in fear of my potential sin. I'm striving toward the perfection of my whole being, including my tongue. Silence was impactful as an experiment, but ultimately the goal is not silence but refined speech. I'll continue to say hurtful things, I'm sure, but little by little I hope my words sound like those of Christ.

Want to read Part I? Click here! 

An Experiment with Silence (Part I)

This year I started off Lent in silence. I don’t just mean I took some time on the morning of Ash Wednesday to quietly pray by myself. I mean that for the first week of Lent I didn’t speak—at least not very much. For several reasons, I decided that experimenting with silence would be helpful. This post will explore some of those reasons.

I first considered practicing silence several months ago. You may remember early on in my Mission Year experience a post about solitude and new prayer practices I had enjoyed at a retreat one weekend. In the extended time of silence, I had the opportunity to explore prayer, scripture reading, meditation, and contemplation in ways that I longed to for a while. Excited by my experiences, I continued to read about solitude and silence and found Richard Foster’s suggestion to try it out for a day. I wanted to learn more about myself and God through silence, and I casually tossed around the idea of prolonged silence with my Mission Year team who supported the idea.

Time went on, and the experiment and excitement was filed away. Now I'm reading through Foster’s classic book on spiritual disciplines, Celebration of Discipline. When I reached the chapter on solitude, I decided to take up the idea of silence once more. The timing was perfect. The week after I read the chapter, Lent started. And silence aligned well with the fast that my church is practicing this Lenten season: no negative words about people (others or self). I figured silence would be a perfect way to launch into this fast.

Why?

I was excited about silence for several reasons:

The Lord has been convicting me about my speech for several years now. I have realized that sarcasm, playful jokes at the expense of others, and flippant responses like “Your mom!” may seem harmless but actually can be deeply damaging, especially over time. The way we talk to one another is so ingrained in us that I haven’t yet found a good approach to changing it. Silence seemed simple—and drastic—enough to make some dent.

I’ve also become more aware over the past few months of the ways that I use speech to manipulate and convince people. I enjoy ideas, words, and communication. That’s why I write so much. My strong grasp of how to use language can be a tool for my selfish desires. What is a good thing can be used toward a not good end. I've noticed I use language as a way to control conversation and steer it where I would have it go, especially in a conversation over some disagreement. Living in community, we have many discussions where we make group decisions, and in those times have I realized this trend.

I fear the way I use language. My skill in communication gives me power, and I don’t want to use it take advantage of others. So I silenced myself. As an act of submission, as a tool to expose my speech patterns, as a reminder to listen, I silenced myself.

Well, not totally. Mostly just within my house was I silent. I still had to talk at work and church, and when neighbors came over I would entertain them just the same. You may be able to imagine that it’s kind of difficult to explain to someone why you won’t speak to them…without using words. But whenever possible, and always when I was with my team, I was silent. I participated normally in our weekly schedule—morning devotions, team meetings, family dinner, grocery list-making, even curriculum discussions!—silently.

And I learned so much. But I’ll save those thoughts for another blog. Watch for part II, and if you want an email notification when it’s posted, use the form box in the top right corner of this page.

UPDATE: Read Part II by clicking here!

Mission Year Meals: Thursday

Thursday is the last day of our grocery week! Sophie and I made taco pie. Although normally we take food to our weekly Thursday night citywide gathering, this weekend was actually “Come and See,” a time when family and friends were invited to visit our home and taste the Mission Year life. But this week we had Thursday night to welcome our guests arriving into town. The taco pie recipe is one shared with me by my sister, a source of many of my recipes. Here it is:

Taco Pie

1 lb. ground beef

1 ½ c. chopped onion

1 pkg taco seasoning

4 oz can chopped green chiles, drained

½ c. Bisquick mix

½ c. shredded sharp cheddar cheese

Brown the beef and onions together; drain. Stir in taco seasoning; place in sprayed 9” pie pan and top with chilies. Blend Bisquick, milk, and egg together and pour over beef slowly. Bake 25 min at 400, or until done. Sprinkle with cheese and continue baking until cheese is melted.

We are also serving it with salad and sour cream on the side. Those ingredients:

1 head of lettuce

A few tomatoes

Cucumber

Carrot shavings

Sour cream

We usually doctor meals a little bit to our liking. In this meal, we used more than one pound of beef (to feed more mouths) and increased the amount of bread topping and cheese. Although you can’t tell from this week’s menu, we don’t usually eat much cheese, so when we do eat cheese we indulge ourselves. So instead of just sprinkling cheese on top, I also sprinkled a layer between the beef and bisquick topping.

Ground beef is actually one of our staple meat ingredients. We usually buy the 5 lb. tube and use it for several meals. We don’t usually buy it for just one meal as we did this week, but it was on sale, so we snatched it up in anticipation of meals next week. We don’t always have room in the budget to plan ahead, but when we do, we take advantage of it!

COST:

Ground Beef $9.95 (An investment for next week too!)

Jalapenos (instead of chilles) $0.14

Baking Mix (off-brand bisquick) $2.49

Block of Sharp Cheddar Cheese $1.99

Sour Cream $1.49

Other Ingredients on hand: onion, taco seasoning, and veggies from the general/lunch/breakfast budget

TOTAL: $10.00

So there you have it! Six meals, all under $10.00! It can be done, and it is done every week in my house. 

Mission Year Meals: Wednesday

Denise cooked on Wednesday! It was a yummy black bean dish. Denise likes to cook with black beans. She also makes a tasty black bean burger that we have had a couple of times due to popular demand. Here's the recipe:

Ingredients: (Serving size 6-8)

• 1 lb. ground extra lean turkey 
• 1/2 chopped onion
• 1 jalapeno pepper, seeds and ribs removed, diced
• 1 red pepper, chopped
• 1/2 tsp salt
• 1/2 tsp ground cumin
• 1/4 tsp ground red pepper flakes
• 5 garlic cloves, minced
• 2/3 cup low-sodium chicken broth
• 3 (15 oz) cans black beans, rinsed and drained
• 1-2 chopped seeded tomatoes
• 1 cup shredded Monterey Jack cheese

Instructions:

1. Preheat oven to 425F.
2. Heat a large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Add ground turkey and a handful of the onions to the pan, sauteing until meat is browned. Remove turkey and set aside.
3. Coat pan with cooking spray. Add onion, pepper, and jalapeno, sauteing for 4 minutes and stirring occasionally. Add salt, cumin, red pepper, and garlic. Saute for 1 minute, stirring constantly.
4. Stir in broth and black beans. Bring mixture to a boil and cook for 5 minutes. Mash beans to desired consistency.
5. Spoon mixture into an 9x13 (or to another extra pan if you do not want it thick) baking dish coated with cooking spray. Top with turkey, bacon, tomato, and cheese. Bake at 425F for 30 minutes or until lightly browned. Top with green onions and let cool for at least 10 minutes (otherwise it will be too runny).
6. Serve with sour cream, tortilla chips, on tacos, on a salad, or just eat it plain!

Cost Breakdown:

Ground Turkey (a luxury item that we get occasionally) $3.59

1 Jalapeno $0.28

1 Red Pepper $1.00

3 cans Black Beans $1.77

Roma Tomatoes $2.23 (but some of these were used for salad and sandwiches)

Mozzarella Cheese block (instead of Monterrey Jack) $1.99

Ingredients we had on hand: Onion, fresh garlic, spices, chicken broth

COST: $10.00

Sometimes it's nice to have a vegetarian meal (or at least the option for one), so Denise made one pan with ground turkey and one small pan without it. She served it with a fresh salad. Since we all keep salads as an option for our meals, that's a cost that comes out of our general/breakfast/lunch budget of about $50.00. 

Team Covenant

The following is the covenant that I and my teammates strive to uphold in our lives:

We the Southwest Philly Team—Priscillia, Sophilia, Denise, Walter-Levi, Preston, and Nichole, in accordance with our commitment to Jesus, hereby commit to uphold the following:

·         Edifying each other through speech (Ephesians 4:29, James 1:19)

o   Not partaking in:

§  Gossip

§  Sarcasm

§  Racial Jokes

o   Encouraging and affirming each other

o   Being quick to listen and slow to speak

·         Sustaining our community through committing to intentional relationships. (Galatians 5:22-23)

o   Out-serving one another

o   Extending grace and mercy

o   Self-care

o   Ensuring that our home is a safe space for daily interaction

o   Celebrating victories and mourning losses

o   Biblical conflict resolution

§  Being present

§  Staying in the midst of conflict

§  Addressing all conflict

o   Having fun

·         Maintaining the values of the technology fast.

o   Sustaining a lifestyle of simplicity

o   Being present in conversation and group activities

o   Embracing solidarity with our neighbors

o   Learning to rely on each other as our main support system

·         Transformation of our neighborhood through:

o   Upholding and adding to the dignity of our neighbors

o   Building relationships

o   Pursuing sustainable community and justice

o   Utilizing a multiplex model to build community connections

o   Empowering our neighbors and encouraging their dreams

We commit to uphold the key pillars of the Mission Year program: community service, church partnership, relational impact, justice, Christian community, spiritual discipline, simplicity, and diversity. In doing so, we embrace one another as a family and, to us, family means loving each other in a way that nobody gets left behind or forgotten. We will spur one another on towards God, in faith (Hebrews 10:24-25), to fulfill this covenant. Furthermore, we commit to reviewing this covenant with each other regularly.