From D.C.

Hey all,

Here are some “thoughts seeking integration.” Please bear with the convolution and length…

Short version: still getting the hang of life here in D.C.

Church of the Saviour is quirky, one-of-a-kind, and is trying some really awesome things. I’ve got my questions about how this church (or, to quote Pippin in Fellowship of the Ring: “mission…quest…thing?”) fits into the Church, but more on that later. For now, I appreciate the boldness with which these people go after Christian discipleship.

For example, the other night I heard a group of Christian former prisoners (self-named “Strength to Love” for MLK Jr’s famous collection of sermons) share their Christian vision for confronting the injustices of the prison system: buying stock in America’s largest privatized prison contractor (there are business incentives for holding people in prison!), and thus gaining a Christian, ex-offender voice at the company’s annual shareholder’s meeting. They attended this meeting last month – singing spirituals the whole busride there – and were able to share their voice, a major victory in and of itself. They asked the lawyer for the prison corporation what the corporation’s long-term plan was to reduce the occurrence of prison rape. He was quite honest in replying that there was no such plan. That’s because it behooves billionaire shareholders nothing to take such measures. Lose profit to keep poor (mostly black; cf. M. Alexander, The New Jim Crow) inmates from getting raped? Sounds like a power and principality to me.

The former inmates currently own a “mere” 20 of the company’s 111 million publically traded stocks. So there is a long way to go. But they look at it from the perspective of an upside-down kingdom: they aren’t hopelessly standing against this monstrosity of a prison industry; rather, a little prison industry is foolishly trying to stand against the cosmic reign of God. (I am reminded of the time MLK stopped a baseball-bat wielding, would-be assailant in his tracks by asking him directly, “do you realize that you’re standing against the metaphysical forces of the universe?”)

(Prison ministry in general is a major topic of discussion within CoS. Blake and Touger, Campbell’s prison epistles class is going to rock!)

So yes, Church of the Saviour is up to great things like Strength to Love. Most of my time every week, however, is spent at Joseph’s House, a hospice home for HIV+ men and women. A common refrain heard during my short time here has been, “before I came here, I’d never been anywhere like this.” That’s been my impression as well.

Just a block down the street from the guesthouse where I’m staying, JH is a three-story, turn-of-the century house surrounded by gardens on the corner of a tree-lined street. The big old house is sometimes still and quiet, as if holding in a deep breath. But most of the time it is a loving parade of people in and out. The old Irish bar slogan holds true: there are no strangers here, just friends that have yet to meet. Past residents (some do get better and move out!), off-duty volunteers (it’s hard to stay away), family members of residents, neighbors, friends, all are welcomed at all times of the day. There is lots of love to be found here.

Many of the residents are teachers and, in time, friends. The other day Elijah and I sat on the front porch in the late afternoon mugginess, watching passers-by and shooting the breeze. Elijah is dying, knows it, and is coming to terms with it, so shooting the breeze with him looks a bit different than with others. Like most everyone, I immediately liked Elijah. He’s just a sweet man. He told me about his love for the people here, his zest for life, and about how he wants to wash the volunteers’ feet after Jesus’ example. He already has washed a few pairs, including the paws of Ajax the dog. (Which reminds me of a certain passage in Gilead where Ames talks about performing a sacrament on small animals – read it yet, Zac?)

After a few all-house brainstorm sessions, we have finally named the newest kitten “Rambo,” short for “rambunctious.” The other day, I folded mailings with Patty, the director, and asked her questions about what it was like to be at L’Arche Daybreak at the same time as Henri Nouwen. Last week, we held the annual memorial service in which we prayed over and buried decorated namecards with each deceased resident’s name from the past year. So you never quite know what a day might bring around here.

My daily tasks are many; part nurse, part cook, part custodian, part waiter, all friend. Sam Wells talks about learning to handle all material things eucharistically, in a way that communicates their gift-ness. For Zac, this means elements of worship; for me, so far it’s been diapers, washcloths, and (lots of) bowls of Butter Pecan ice cream.

But I can’t romanticize this place. Most days include difficult interactions, or at least uncertainty about what the heck to do or say in a given situation. It is a place thrust right in the center of ultimate questions, but also people – both volunteers and residents – facing their deepest fears and exposing the ugliness that comes with those fears. Recognizing our brokenness in one another, in our own reactions, causes us to want to push them away in repulsion, but deep down, we also very much want to sympathize with them. Situations present themselves every day to which my first inclination is escape, is flight. On the lighter side, I think that life at Joseph’s House could at times singlehandedly support the website mylifeisawk.com. [Then again, as someone recently pointed out: life is full of awkward moments in general, but some of us are more susceptible than others!]

So far, I have been so impressed by the people with whom I work. They have learned so much about seeing and responding to others’ needs in gentle and dignifying ways. They aren’t doing anything super-human; in fact, what they are doing is at its most basic, human. All who come through the JH doors are about the same business: residents and volunteers alike, we are doing nothing more and nothing less than becoming truly human in our living and dying. As Stringfellow writes, “I believed then, as I do now, that I am called in the Word of God … to the vocation of being human, nothing more and nothing less.” [1] At its most basic, life at Joseph’s House is learning to be all of a creature under God's care and provision.

So, in a way, nothing in my life has prepared me for this place. But in another sense, everything in my life has (or should have) prepared me for this. That may or may not make sense, but it’s the tension within which I’m awkwardly trying to live.

_______

Beyond Joseph’s House, D.C. is quite the happenin’ place. The Adams Morgan neighborhood is diverse, busy, party and ethnic food central (there are multiple Ethiopian places within walking distance, as well as a pho place, Thaos!). There are a lot of free public concerts, museums, galleries, etc. The World Cup is coming! And there is many a good bar for watching it. Lots to do, and beginning to form relationships with other interns in the area.

In all this, pray that I would learn contentment in finding my place here; that I would be fully present; that relationships would continue to develop with honesty.

Thanks, and I appreciate each of you. Reading your posts has been a joy.

Love,

Nate


[1] “I believed then, as I do now, that I am called in the Word of God … to the vocation of being human, nothing more and nothing less …. Within the scope of the calling to be merely but truly human, any work, including that of any profession, can be rendered a sacrament of that vocation. On the other hand, no profession, discipline or employment, as such, is a vocation.”

—William Stringfellow, A Keeper of the Word: Selected Writings of William Stringfellow (Eerdmans, 1994), pp. 30-31.