What Gives Me Hope? - Richard R. Crocker

What Gives You (Me) Hope?
Psalm 146
Rollins Chapel
March 31, 2011
Richard R. Crocker, College Chaplain

We are inviting a number of people to speak very personally this term on the topic, “What gives me hope?” It is a searching question to consider, especially in the season of Lent, as we examine ourselves, and in Easter, when we celebrate the hope represented by the resurrection of Christ.

Now we are in Lent – a somber season leading up to the crucifixion of Christ – a season when it is permissible – even necessary – to admit and confront the forces of hopelessness – a season when it is OK to admit that we are not always hopeful.

As I have thought about this question, “What give me hope?”, I first of all have been aware that I do not share the hope that so many people around me seem to have, or say that they have. Here at Dartmouth, it seems to me, and in most of the world that we inhabit, the major engine of hope is wealth, power, success, and skill. People come to places like Dartmouth because they have already experienced the gifts of wealth, success, power, and skill, and because they hope they will, at Dartmouth and places like it, acquire even more. Now I do not want to be misunderstood. Enough wealth is better than poverty. Having some power over one’s life is better than being powerless. Success in attaining worthwhile goals is better than perpetual failure. Skills and knowledge are better than incompetence and ignorance. But seldom do we pause to ask the important questions: how is our wealth (or skill or power or success) acquired, and what is it used for? That’s why the Bible, and in particular the teachings of Christ, challenge such hopes. The love of money is the root of all evil. The greatest among you is the servant of all. Love your enemies. The one who is forgiven is the one who forgives. That is why the Tucker Foundation’s advocacy of experiences that call into question our wealth and power and success and skill are so important in a college that trumpets with pride the fact that our graduates are, on average, the highest paid in the nation.

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.

It ends as it began. Wet, happy, and sleep deprived.

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