Back again - Kurt Nelson

The group has returned to Dartmouth.  Happy, tired, and more-or-less healthy.  I'm a bit overwhelmed by the experiences we've had and the people we've met.  And I'm consistently inspired by the passion, dedication and community of our group.

Without a doubt, I'm happy to be home.  Ready for my nice, quiet bed.  Delighted to see my family, and rest, and walk my dog.  I'm excited to see spring unfold up north as we did around DC.   But as we put the nation's capitol in our rear window, I couldn't help but feel a little sad as well.

On the one hand, I'll miss this group.  They affirmed me in my calling and in the educational models we use.  They inspire me to keep at it.  And I quite simply enjoyed being around them for such long, focused, unadulterated stretches of time.

And on the other hand, I still wonder if I'm doing enough to counter the vast challenges of poverty in our nation and world.  When I stay up at night, it's because I worry if my work is direct enough, bold enough, and radical enough.  Given the immense problems of our country and world, is it okay for me to live such a comfortable existence?

And so as I drove home, in a van full of sleeping, brilliant students, I pondered my (and our) privilege. 

Interfaith service: What's the big idea?

Parnian Parvin-Nejad '13

The phrase "interfaith service" itself sounds like a noble undertaking, but once you think about it, its meaning is not quite as clear.  What exactly is so special about doing community service with a group of people of different faiths?  Many faiths include service to the community as a component of putting their beliefs into practice, or in the case of Abrahamic religions, as a way to serve God.  That's an easy answer for the "faith service" part, but the "inter-" part still remains to be clarified.  Half of our ASB trip is focused on this idea of “interfaith” volunteering, but before the trip, it was still not entirely obvious to me why.  Half What benefit is to be gained in bringing together people of different faiths to do service rather than drawing from a single belief system?
Thanks in part to the discussion we had with a representative from the President’s Office of Faith-Based Community Partnerships, I think I am on my way to an answer to this question.  We started off our discussion with the representative, Clay, with his introduction to the initiatives organized by the Corporation for National Community Service (CNCS), such as AmeriCorps and Habitat for Humanity.  He explained to us the difference between stupidity (a refusal to learn or a determination to retain incorrect assumptions) and ignorance (a willingness to fill in the spaces of incomplete knowledge). 

A Hopeful Cynic

Geovanni Cuevas, '14

Inez is  a homeless man who wanders around our nation’s capitol in despair. We met him on the first official day of our trip, and what a bizarre day to say the least. If I were to hand you a hot dog wrapped in foil paper, a bottle of water and an orange and then instruct you to wander the streets of Washington, D.C profiling every person you saw in an attempt to identify  the one in the most need of the aforementioned food, how would you begin your search?

Words cannot properly express the guilty feeling in the pit of my stomach as I scanned the streets while pausing on every black and brown face to evaluate “how homeless they looked.” Imagine, if you can, the awkward situation of approaching someone on their smoke break and offering them some water---a seemingly innocuous gesture, but one where there is no denying the implications--- you think this person is homeless. And even if it’s true, is it not a humiliating experience to have someone explicitly acknowledge our destitution? The minute you meet the eyes of the person to whom you’re offering food, there is a mutual understanding that you’ve made an assessment about their well being, about their status as a person and about their ability to provide for themselves. I assume for most of us, accepting charity would imply a level of humility bordering on embarrassment. Not exactly the most dignifying of experiences. Nevertheless, we wandered from the shelter in Southeast Washington to Union Station, where we met Inez, randomly approaching strangers offering them food and attempting to offer them, as our guide put it, “some dignity.”

The Luxury of Certainty

Shweta Raghu '15

       When I removed my dust mask and returned to the hostel after our work at the Manna  building site yesterday, I had a new nickname: The Stairmaster. No, it as not because of my love for the gym-machine-of-joy, but because I spent the whole workday scraping and sweeping mud, paint, and other debris off several flights of stairs. Yes, it may sound like extremely boring and repetitive labor. And don't get me wrong, it was repetitive (scrape, sweep, move down one step, repeat), and (dare I say) boring at times, but it made me think. About what we had been doing on the trip, and what I was hoping to learn.   
       In fact, we had been doing repetitive tasks almost every day. For many of us, repetitive to the point of frustration- at least while we were doing the jobs and immediately afterwards. But during our daily reflections, I found that many of my most positive experiences were seemingly pointless and repetitive tasks.

Finding God at the Washington Monument

Phoebe Reid '15

Cherry blossoms arched overhead, masking the warm night sky above as we trekked down the mall. Imposing stone monuments of governance and our country’s greatness flanked the sides of our journey, as our faith carried us on.

My frustrations about faith and belief were aired and vulnerabilities revealed. The Buddhas teachings and 7 Unitarian Universalist principles swarmed around a lack of a higher power and questions emerged.

Where does someone not raised in a religious tradition find God?

“On this walk, before we get to the monument”

“Yes, I’ll find God at the Washington Monument”

God wasn't there.

Instead I found a family at the monument.

Pinkeye.

Stephen Kirkpatrick '13

            I’ll bring many things home from this trip.  Memories. Awareness. Photographs. 14 wonderful friends. Newfound ambitions.

            And I’ll bring home 2 swollen red eyes.

            Thursday morning, I woke up with pinkeye. Not precisely sure where it came from, but by this morning it had spread to both eyes, so I figured I should see a doctor.

            No big deal. Just a quick call to the local clinic, a 30-miinute appointment, and a prescription for some antibiotics. In another week I’ll be perfectly fine.

            The clinic I went to on Capitol Hill is a lot like my clinic at home. It’s immaculately clean, decorated in serene blues, and well-staffed. The nurse and the doctor who saw me are friendly. Transferring my parents’ insurance was a breeze, and the whole ordeal only ended up costing me $25.

            The thing is, the entire day, before catching some extra sleep, while watching TV on my MacBook, over my $15 lunch at a diner near the clinic, I couldn’t help making the contrast between my experience today and the one I had on Wednesday.

            We helped organize a closet for the Homeless Children’s Playtime Project at DC General, a hospital-turned-shelter at the outermost border of the District.

Martha's Table

Wajahat Kiani '14

To further our understanding of how different organizations are tackling the issue of homelessness, we headed over to Martha’s Table on 14^th street NorthWest.  With the image of shelters run by Anna Federner-esque figure etched in my mind, I was clearly in for a surprise. The place appeared extremely professional; the front office could have been easily been mistaken for a well-kept front desk at any reasonable corporation. We were given a quick orientation by the extremely energetic profession, Nadia. According to her, Martha’s table provided educational programs to approximately 250 children, meals to homeless people through both their support and referral program and their city-wide distribution centers and registered organizations. Nadia’s voice struggled to contain the passion she felt towards her work.  Her enthusiasm for her work reinforced the significance of the work that we would do that day.

Focus

Ariel Shapiro '13

Today we witnessed the purposeful, structured DC Central Kitchen.  We prepared food for at least some of the five thousand meals a day that DC Central Kitchen serves.  Parnian, Shweta, and I spent the good part of an hour struggling valiantly to open dozens of cans of diced tomatoes and spaghetti sauce.  The can openers were warped and demanded all of our focus; my motor skills still were not up for the job.  Yet just dumping can after can into an enormous tub, in the midst of the smell of chopped onions and the sound of peelers on hundreds of potatoes, reminded me of the importance of intentionality.  Many of DC Central's employees wore t-shirts that read "Feeding the Soul of the City," and to me, this motto epitomizes intentionality.  Each potato peeled, and each green bean snapped would be a part of a meal. Focusing on that significance and remembering it with each bean made me feel a part of a large community, scattered across the strangely homey industrial kitchen. I felt affection stirred into the potatoes and baked in the pies.  This philosophy of giving through food, of transmitting affection through food is a powerful one.  Five thousand meals a day is an overwhelming concept -- it's overwhelming to consider that continuous necessity.  But when combined with the giving of dignity, with a whole community of diverse and even disparate volunteers committed to that goal, five thousand meals a day becomes close to a miracle. I do wish that there was no necessity for such an organization, but as there is, I am glad that one such as DC Central Kitchen exists -- one that believes that everyone deserves a good meal of strong, sustainable, often local, healthy and wholesome food. 

       

Pictures from DC...

Meeting with Clay Middleton from the Corporation for National and Community Service and Office of Faith Based and Neighborhood Partnerships.

Meeting with Maggie Siddiqi from the Islamic Society of North America.

 On our day off, in front of the Lincoln Memorial.

More touring from the day off, at the MLK memorial.

On Hope and Faith - Kurt Nelson

Thoughts from Kurt for the evening:  3/20/12

We've crested the halfway point of our trip.  Moved hundreds of totes and bags and boxes worth of musty clothing and debris and food (not in the same containers, thankfully). 

We've conversed deep into the night about theology and wandered much of the city.  Heard stories from folks living on the street and from those serving them daily.  We've met with civic leaders and organization managers and regular volunteers.  We've argued and worked and been overwhelmed.  We've served the people we've met to the best of our ability.  We've asked hard questions and pondered big ideas.

And in the midst of it all, I find myself pondering to things in particular:

First, hope. 

Broken Things

Sage Dalton '12


"God dearly loves broken things."
-Jeffrey R Holland


I've thought about this quote a lot the past few days. I thought about when I watched Inez limp to CCNV, his face full of excruciating pain. I thought about it as I tried to process the vast destruction and deep hate we witnessed in East Baltimore. I thought about as I contemplated all the people that the enormous number of sandwiches we packed at Martha's Table would reach. 


God dearly loves broken things. 
Broken hearts, broken furniture, broken dreams, broken houses, broken love, broken intentions, broken boxes, broken souls, broken world. 


In the midst of the sadness and frustration and discouragement I've felt during this trip, I have also felt the closeness of God's love, His very real presence and care for all these broken things.


I have been impressed by the way the faith and action of others are vessels for pouring out this ever present and intrinsic love. I have been awed by the way His love pours forth through the simple actions of others on our trip who consistently and genuinely reach out to strangers, but also to each other. I am deeply grateful to be here and to learn from them. 


Our trip is called faith in action, but I want to call it faith is action. 


According to the Bible, if you have faith, the first and second great commandments are to love God and to love your neighbors (Matthew 22:37-39). Faith leads to love. 


Kurt was wearing a shirt yesterday that had this quote on it: "Love cannot remain by itself -- it has no meaning. Love has to be put into action, and that action is service" - Mother Theresa. Love leads to action. 


In sum, faith in God leads to love, but this love by itself is meaningless and it must be put into action. Ultimately, faith is action. Through action we can be vessels to pour out God's ever present love for all His broken children in His broken world.  

Muslimat al-Nisaa

Aaron Colston '14

    The house in East Baltimore we visited that weekend made me think twice about “community service.” The house was the storage space of a shelter for Muslim women who were victims of domestic abuse until the house was ransacked. Clothes were sprawled on the floor of the living room and the bedrooms upstairs, part of the ceiling dangled like wrapping paper, toys and books lay twisted on the carpet. They left their mark by scrawling on the walls along the stairs, the threshold, and the living room the word “kufar,” Arabic for “infidel.” By the time we started taking the clothes and toys in bags and plastic tote boxes people began to pour slowly out of the houses on the street to watch. Our blue-gray gloves and white masks over our mouths and noses were clear signals that we weren’t a part of their community. So what were we doing, really, on this “service” trip?
     Part of it did have do with “giving back.” The time we gave to helping clean and organize the house freed up the shelter for its own work. What might have taken months took about two days. Not only that, but some of the community made use of the clothes and furniture that the shelter decided to give away in a “free yard sale.” With the time we had, we were able to practically clean up an entire house. Real work--concrete service--had been accomplished.
    But at the end of the second day of work on the house, the truth stood in the back of my mind that for all our hard work we had only scratched the surface. Crime does not leave a city with ease. The same goes for domestic abuse. In the large scale, that shelter is just one attempt to help a population within the community in Baltimore. The problems imaginable only magnify the further we extend what “community” means--neighborhood to city, city to county, to state, to country, to planet, ad infinitum.
    Yet so do the blessings imaginable, so long as we keep things in perspective. It would have been too ambitious for me or anyone else on this trip to think that we could have solved another community’s problems in ten days, let alone one weekend. All we can do is hand over ourselves in the little way we can--and when we see that the self we have given is but a grain of sand in the ocean of the world’s troubles, our littleness hopefully begets great humility. That said, I think that “community service” has been successful when two things happen. One, that the little work done over the weekend, while not ending the problem, shows a community that they aren’t alone in their struggle, and two, when the person serving becomes humble in their service.

ISNA and Capitol Hill Group Ministry

Michelle Earhart '12

Hello from the Faith in Action ASB! We spent most of yesterday driving down to Washington D.C., and then went for a short walk around the seminar center where we're staying. We ran into some recognizable buildings... as it turns out, we are very much on Capitol Hill. 

We awoke mostly refreshed and walked to meet with Maggie, a staffer of the Islamic Society of North America's (ISNA) office for interfaith and community alliances. The office also runs Shoulder to Shoulder, which works against anti-Muslim sentiments. She very courteously answered our questions about working with ISNA. It seems that a lot of this office's time is spent responding to Islam-related events, such as the NYPD surveillance of Muslims and the burning of Korans in Afghanistan, but in both reaction and prevention, they have a number of interfaith initiatives where they work to break down some of the misconceptions about Muslims in parts of the world. We discussed what it meant to represent the "moderate" Muslim and what that concept even means (it's usually used in opposition to "extremists" who wish to push their beliefs on other people, sometimes through violent means, but why does that concept apply to Muslims? People don't tend to describe themselves as "moderate" Christians or Buddhists in order to distinguish themselves from the more fundamentalist members of their religion. "Moderate" and "extreme" are political terms, suggesting that the Islamic faith itself has become quite politicized in the way it is viewed by our country). ISNA also works with groups of other faiths to come together and advocate for representative policy changes, and while it can be hard to agree sometimes, there is an underlying suggestion that if different religious groups can come together, the factions "across the street" should be able to, as well.

Moving from an organization that focuses on advocacy to direct triage, we took the metro to a branch of Capitol Hill Group Ministry, where we met Dan, who'd been working there for six months. Dan was obviously very passionate about homelessness, but also felt like it was "an unsolvable problem... like sadness."

Upon Returning.

Kurt Nelson
Assistant Chaplain.

I sit now at my desk in Hanover NH.  I think I slept for 22 of the 36 hours I've been in New Hampshire since our return.  It's colder here.  And drier.  And I'm thankful for my large, comfortable bed, my family, and dog, and well-stocked kitchen.  But, as always, the return is bittersweet.

One final anecdote from me:  During the middle of our last night in San Francisco I needed to make a pharmacy run on behalf of our group.  It was, of course, pouring down rain.  I've never before needed to hail a cab at 4 AM  in the midst of a rainy urban environment.  It proved more challenging than I had expected.  Several 'helpful' intoxicated Tenderloin residents sought to offer their service to me, with varying degrees of efficacy.  Eventually, I was picked up a few blocks from our hostel and whisked to a near-by 24 hr pharmacy, adjacent to one of San Fran's major shopping/clubbing districts.  The cab driver assured me I'd have no trouble finding a ride home.

On the way back, I noticed a line of taxis just down the street, outside a Westin Hotel and figured to have no trouble.  But alas, they would not open their doors for me.  I was clearly not wealthy enough (wet and disheveled and not coming from within the luxury hotel), or wanting to go far enough, to warrant losing a spot in line.  I was frustrated. 

Bird Blocks

Grace Afsari-Mamagani '13

Several days ago, I was making the walk back from Union Square when a man approached me to ask if I'd buy him lunch.
I hesitated momentarily, but made the short walk with him to Burger King while he described himself as a struggling artist originally from Tennessee. He seemed out of place among the ritzy shops and bustling crowds, as though longing for something much simpler that incessantly evaded him.
"Things are rough," he told me.

We set out relatively early Friday morning on our last day of service, spent in Oakland with the East Bay branch of Habitat for Humanity. Given my aversion to heights and power saws, I elected to stick to painting bird blocks under the supervision of Carrie, an AmeriCorps member whose dreams of attending veterinary school had been crushed by a severe allergy to nearly every land mammal in existence. After five hours spent applying coats of dark grey paint to these wood-and-screen pieces (and, inadvertently, to my hands and clothing), I discovered I still didn't quite understand what bird blocks are. While Carrie offered some explanation involving eaves and ventilation, it struck me that this menial task served as just one of many that go into building one of Habitat's homes. Those dozens of bird blocks came to encapsulate the ASB experience for me: the task seemed trivial, detached, and somewhat incomprehensible, but a group of families would be unable to enjoy their new homes without them.

Larkin Street

Tev’n Powers ‘14

Wednesday morning we spent a few hours at Larkin Street Youth Services, an organization that provides services to run away, homeless, and at-risk youth between ages 12-24 in the San Francisco area. Larkin Street offers a number of different programs at their various sites throughout San Francisco. According to Audrey Muntz, Larkin’s Volunteer Program Manager and a Dartmouth ’04, the center serves more than 3,000 kids each year.

Audrey was a pre-med student at Dartmouth so it was interesting to see someone who turned down both a rewarding and lucrative career path in favor of working at a non-profit. After giving us a brief rundown of Larkin’s history and services, we were split into groups to tackle the various tasks of the day. Five of us were assigned to prepare the day’s lunch for the center, another group put together office furniture for the offices at this site, while the rest of the group worked in the basement organizing clothing, toys and various other items that were donated.

Oftentimes people see community service as a hands-on experience where you see the immediate impact of your work. However, our work was still significant because it allowed the employees at Larkin to invest their time and energy in work that otherwise would have been put off. It’s also a nice gesture that shows the people who do this type of work day in and day out that they are appreciated. As for the cooking, it was more of a direct, albeit small, contribution to the youth that came to Larkin that day.

The most important lesson that I took away from our day at Larkin came after we had finished cooking and cleaning. Audrey was concluding our visit and began answering some questions from the group. In one of her responses she mentioned that nearly 40% of college graduates move back home with their parents at some point after they graduate.

California Dreamin'

Alice Liou, '13

After many indescribably wonderful days of service across the city of San Francisco, I’ve been compelled to think deeply about the state of the American dream. Throughout my academic experience, the concept of the “American dream” has been a vision surrounded by profits and incentives-- individual economic improvement, if you will-- and the ability to pursue a comfortable life of independence and liberty (white picket fence optional). Domestic government and the American public mind love nothing more than “choice” and wealth, and because my conception of the state of the union has been distinctly classified in this way, I’ve run into a couple challenges in the past week surrounding the issue of homelessness: what does it mean to be homeless, to lack social and economic security to the point where I wouldn’t even be offered the option to view the American menu of choice? What happens when there are no public officials representing my preferences, or if I didn’t have the capability to partake in the political process? On a simpler, human level, what if I just weren’t considered by the vast majority as a contributing (and consequently “legitimate”) member of civil society, and fear crippled others’ willingness to understand me?

Perhaps the American dream is, or at least I hope it will someday be conceived as, a communal and moral affair. The American dream can be about all of us, rather than just about “me” and “my” pursuit of personal success. While I’m aware that these are not mutually exclusive, after working with Zaytuna, the urban garden, Glide, Larkin, and Hamilton, I've realized that promise for the future is clear amidst the compassion and selflessness that these organizations embody.

Pictures from the Faith in Action trip

Shelly
Tev'n at the urban farm amidst the fava beans
Half the group at the urban farm

A rainy, thankful morning

More from Kurt:

We'll work this afternoon with Hamilton Family Center, cleaning and organizing, and then offering a Spring Break send-off for their young residents.  I had visions of using the morning to explore or perhaps even go for a jog.  But instead I awoke to driving wind and rain, and decided to stay in, catch up on email, rest and read.  (And yes, I confess I watched a little Netflix).

And I was extremely thankful in each of these moments for a roof and a bed and plumbing, and food.  And I wondered how the lines outside Glide were faring.  And I hoped the drop in center at Larkin St. was full of young people taking refuge.  And I prayed for those who I've seen and met who are not so fortunate as I.  Poverty exists everywhere I've lived and worked, but it's still easy to take for granted such daily necessities.  Proximity and involvement here certainly breed a kind of gratitude, alongside the angst and sadness and anger.

We've served 5 days, with two to go.

On Glide and such

Maha Malik '13

Something Kurt said at reflection yesterday really struck me. He said that we're not just here to learn about things but also to learn how to talk about the things that we experience. We are nearing the end of our trip, and I believe that these are lessons of which we should be constantly aware. As was mentioned yesterday, what we believe, our faiths and ideologies make us who we are. They define us in many ways and so talk to about what we believe and be questioned about what we believe can never easy. What is important is to learn how to ask questions and answer them, to express our opinions in the safe space that we construct for each other. We are all the builders of this space. And the conversations that can result will always be something we can be proud of.

Our group has made me proud on many occasions.

Each one of us approaches challenges in different ways. Some of us look at experiences mainly through the lens of our faith, others through our field of study and so on. So every night when we gather around the table to let our thoughts out we bring those diverse perspectives and talk.

But what this trip has taught me is the importance of listening. I have learned to listen and I am very thankful to the members of this ASB for that.

Glide was an extremely challenging experience for all of us. What I took away from the service at Glide and the many people there that I had the chance to talk to was not just my own experience. I also took away the experience of each and every trip member who shared their thoughts with me, with honesty and intellectual generosity. For that, I am grateful.