What Gives Me Hope. - Madelyn Betz.

Psalm 62:1-8 ∙ Rollins Chapel ∙ Dartmouth College, Hanover, New Hampshire ∙ April 28, 2011

Guest Speaker - Madelyn Betz.  Curate, St. Thomas Episcopal Church.

            This first week after Easter is the perfect time to be talking about hope. As Christians, resurrection hope is the foundation of our faith. And yet, on any given day, most of us find ourselves somewhere on a continuum of belief about the resurrection, and where we find our belief affects the strength of our hope for what is to come.

The author Frederick Beuchner talks about hope in terms of believing in the possibility of a miracle. This hope is as beautiful and full of possibility as it is fragile. Our most extravagant hope exposes our vulnerability when nothing like what we expect to happen happens. When we set our heart on anything yet to come, we put ourselves at an intersection of limit and opportunity. When our heart is set on a miracle that doesn’t happen, something other than what we expect does happen.

Sustainability Matters - Kurt Nelson

Delivered 4/21/11
Dartmouth's "Sustainability and Social Justice" Dinner, 
part of Earth Week 2011.  
Collis Common Ground.


Many thanks to our organizer, Rosi Kerr, my fellow speakers, Stephanie Crocker '12, Michael Dorsey, Marcus Welker, and Jerome Whitington, and all those who attended.

Sustainability Matters.  4/21/11

I'm the religious one this evening.

So if you need to get more food or check your blitz (note: blitz = email).

this might be the best time.

My name is Kurt.

I'm a chaplain and an educator.

I use reusable mugs,

and carry around cloth napkins.

I compost.

I'm a vegetarian (most of the time).

I take the bus to work.

I turn my heat way down.

I'm an ecological activist.

An inter-faith activist.

And I'm a Christian.

And for me, those things go all together.

It's holy week.

And it's Passover.

And I'm sure there's someplace I'm supposed to be this evening.

But instead I'm here,

with you all.

Because I think sustainability matters.

And I presume you do too,

or else you wouldn't be here.

And I've been asked,

like the others tonight,

to speak to why sustainability matters.

But that seems fairly evident to me.

If something is good,

it should be sustained.

And so instead, I think the essential question becomes,

sustainability of what,

and sustainability for whom?

And that's where I think things get interesting, and tricky, and wonderful.

Because it becomes not essentially a question of technology,

or economy,

but a question of our basic values.

A question of what we hold to be really and truly good.

What Gives Me Hope? - Karen Orrick

Karen Orrick '11 

Rollins Chapel, 4/14/11

The Prophet -- Khalil Gibran
"Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.  And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.  How else can it be?  The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain."
 

Matthew 6: 19-23 (NRSV)
¹⁹ ‘Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust^* consume and where thieves break in and steal; ²⁰but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. ²¹For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.  ²² ‘The eye is the lamp of the body. So, if your eye is healthy, your whole body will be full of light; ²³but if your eye is unhealthy, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light in you is darkness, how great is the darkness!

Matthew 6: 34  (NRSV)
‘So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today.

Hope- what a special thing to reflect upon.  Narrowing down what gives me hope is difficult, since there are many things I draw inspiration from: secret smiles, twinkling eyes, ocean waves crashing and receding, guitar sing-a-longs, home cooked food, home grown food, long hugs, forts, pillows after a long day, thirst-quenching water, appreciating the presence of one other, resting in the comfort of each other’s living room eyes, reflecting on different stages of life, my incredible sisters, my dog, and so much more.  There are exquisite small moments in each day where connections are made, hands are held, and something beautiful is internalized.

There are also many moments of terrible sorrow, isolation, anxiety, anger, and disconnection where we don’t treat each other nearly as well as we want to, don’t feel nearly as cherished as we would like, and ignore or doubt the humanity of those we feel strongly hurt by and defensive against.  Grievous injustices happen globally, nationally, locally, and interpersonally on this campus every day between humans and amongst local and global ecosystems.   Life can be full of disappointment, discouragement, isolation, and anxiety, especially for employees of the college who continually get their benefits slashed or for seniors, like me, who still don’t have a job for next year ;-).  The culture in the US today is full of fear and distrust.  Fear over not being able to support one’s self, fear of not having enough money, distrust of the government, distrust of those who are different from us, distrust of the TSA, distrust of airplane passengers, the list goes on.

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.