By Noah Stansbury
It’s been nearly a year now since that first phone call brought me to Philadelphia and turned everything right side up. Not very long after my arrival, I found myself one Sunday afternoon on South 4th Street, having the ancient words of a girl who said yes inked into my arm: “Be it unto me according to your word.” Even then, I knew that my own inclination to say yes to everything would fade, that soon enough I would pass back into ordinary time, when this faltering heart would need a reminder. A few weeks prior, I had gone to confession for the first time in several years. I had been in Servant Year for about a month at that point, and on our mid-year retreat some time had been set aside that our chaplain would be available, come if you wish. Everything was new again then, and I liked Mother Erika quite a lot for having met her only a few times, so I followed the quiet impulse to give another chance to this thing that had once been more harmful than helpful. As she was offering counsel, she said that she heard in my words a desire to follow the will of God. This was an idea that was not altogether explicit to me up until that point, but it made a lot of sense; “the will of God” was rhetoric deployed often and to great (and at times dubious) effect in my upbringing. This idea came up again a few weeks later, when I broached the idea of vocational discernment for the first time with my priest. As he pressed me on my motives and thought processes, we got back around to this idea of aligning one’s self with the will of God. I don’t really remember where the conversation went from there, but that stands out to me. Easter came and went, the summer came and went, the school year ended and started again, bringing with it new students, new co-workers and housemates, new Servant Year members. I was still experiencing new things, yes, but everything was comfortable. I was no longer the new kid on the block and things once unknown were now familiar. There is much good in that; I have found a deep sense of place and family and belonging that I have never known in my adult life, and it is an unspeakable, beautiful thing that I cherish because I know that it will someday end. My purpose in coming to Philadelphia has always been a transitory one. The constellations will shift even if they do contain some of the same stars. So all things new are old and will be new again, and I am left with myself, wondering if this work of discerning the will of God, let alone following it, will ever come to pass. Saying yes to everything—perhaps more to the point, saying no to some things—doesn’t come as easily as it once did. The same things that always get in the way are still there, doing so precisely because they are good things that deserve, at their core, to be pursued, even if the way in which I go about it is (unavoidably, desperate-ly, humanly) flawed. I am sure of few things when I think about my vocation, at least concretely. But one thing that has emerged is the yearning toward a vowed profession that has hounded me for years: marriage, ordination, religious life, any of the above, something else entirely. While it is easy for me to romanticize such things (dear reader, how I do!), I am left with a hollow feeling when I take in what it really means to covenant oneself and hold it up to the guarded, selfish creature that I am. You want me to do what? If I ever make it to the altar to give myself to anything, it will truly be through the work of God. Perhaps this is the point. I vacillate wildly in my response to grace—“grace changes us and the change is painful”*—but the quiet, persistent call remains unchanged, faithful when I am not. So I return to the altar week after week, to hear the will of God shown forth in words and water and wheat and wine, strengthened for the time when I find myself at another crossroads so changed that the most natural thing in the world is to say yes. *Flannery O’Connor, The Habit of Being Noah Serves as Volunteer and Church Outreach Coordinator at St. James School.
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By Lindsay Barrett-Adler
There are 9:24 p.m. text messages that no service corps program director ever wants to receive. The following was not one of them: “Father Stube and I are going on a ship to say Christmas mass and celebrate the Eucharist tomorrow at 6, and thought it would be cool if you wanted to come.” The Servant Year member who sent the text to me, Trish, is spending her year volunteering at Seamen’s Church Institute (SCI). SCI provides services and support for 30,000 seafarers each year. Most of the crews are male and usually work 6-9 month contracts, away from their families and home countries for long stretches of time. Due to visa stipulations, many crew members are unable to disembark from the cargo ships while in port. Without SCI’s visits, these crew members would have no access to resources (like warm winter coats, phone cards to call their families back home) and company over a home cooked meal. After a 5 second deliberation, I enthusiastically accepted the invitation to see SCI’s ministry firsthand. The next day I bundled up (tonight’s low will be 14 degrees), not sure what to expect beyond a chilly walk from SCI’s van to the ship. As we walked toward our ship, the overwhelming smell of chocolate filled the air. Turns out some of the cargo they brought from Nigeria included cocoa beans that crunched underfoot as we made our way up wobbly metal stairs to the ship. Upon boarding, we were ushered to a small, plain room where a small group of Philippine seafarers waited to worship with us. One wall had a homemade banner proclaiming, “Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!” next to a Christmas tree with some decorations. Father Stube told the nativity story churches around the world proclaimed on Christmas, found in Luke’s Gospel. We sang Christmas carols and prayed together, especially for the sixteen Philippine sailors missing from a cargo ship that sank off the coast of Vietnam last week. We celebrated the Eucharist with one another and I was reminded, in this season of Epiphany, of God’s welcome to people from around the world who gather to encounter Christ. We ended with applause from the seafarers, thankful for SCI’s presence and work on their behalf. Soon one of the cooks brought out trays of cookies, sandwiches, and soda for us to share. The seafarers silently waited for us to partake in their hospitality. We asked where they were ultimately headed and they said, ”Columbia. We’re picking up some cargo in Albany, then going to Columbia.” Then probably home for 3 months before heading out to sea again. We talked a little bit more about pirates in Nigeria, boxing, and how badly Brazil was blown away in the World Cup semi-finals. Everyone thanked us for coming and shook our hands, watching as we made our way back to dry land that some of them wouldn’t be able to touch for many, many months. I walked back into the chocolate cocoon, surrounded by a distant smell from another land and thought again of this season. There are countless exotic gifts I take for granted every day, from coffee to chocolate, brought to me by seafarers on ships like the one I visited. I am thankful for the dangerous and difficult work these men undertake each day to bring us gifts from afar. Lindsay Serves as Program Director and Associate for Young Adult Ministries. By Michael Debaets
Since September, I have been volunteering at Covenant House PA, a crisis shelter for homeless youth from the ages of 18 to 21. Covenant House provides Philadelphia's homeless youth with immediate needs like warm beds, hearty meals, donated clothes, toiletries, and a safe place to stay. Covenant House also keeps residents from breaking each other's sanctuary by fighting, cussing, insulting, frightening, or becoming romantically involved with others. After we make sure that the residents have what they need, we teach them to job-search, and we provide a structure for their week so that they don't wander around the neighborhood aimlessly every day. Since each resident comes to this program of their own volition, we hope that the program will encourage them to make better and better choices throughout the rest of their lives. Jesus Christ said that when he will come again to this earth to judge all men, he will tell his disciples, "Thank you for clothing me when I was naked, for feeding me when I was hungry, for visiting me when I was in prison, for giving me drink when I was thirsty, for welcoming me when I was a stranger." He then tells the disciples that they will reply, "Lord, when did we ever do these things for you?" and he will answer them, saying, "Whenever you did these things for the least of these, you did them for me." Covenant House PA feeds the hungry, gives drink to the thirsty, clothes the naked, and welcomes those who cannot find welcome anywhere else. The mission statement of Covenant House states that we will treat every resident with absolute respect and unconditional love. I have only been able to do this because I remember the words of Christ in the previous paragraph. By his words, I know that he is present in the needy people I serve, and it is insofar as he is in them that they deserve my absolute respect and my unconditional love. Padre Pio said, "Every person in need is Christ," and our mission statement says the same thing. In my time so far as a Servant Year member, I have learned time and again that true joy comes from being in relationship with Jesus; even at those times when I needed to humble myself and act as no more than a servant, I was happy because I was with him. Before this year, I had not served much at all, but this Servant Year I am learning from Christ how to serve and not tire, as he said, "Come to me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest, for my yoke is easy and my burden is light." One of my mentors told me, "this year is for you to grow and learn." I have grown in several professional capacities: in managing my time, in communicating clearly, and in giving my organization a good face. I have learned about the problem of homelessness in Philadelphia, about the services that Covenant House provides, and I have learned most of all that service in the name of Christ brings joy. I look forward to spending the remainder of my Servant Year volunteering at Covenant House PA. Michael Serves as Youth Advisor at Covenant House. By Elizabeth Davis
I’m not going to lie- I did not have high hopes for Philadelphia as a city. My placement? Absolutely. Living in intentional community? You bet. But Philly? The thing I was the most excited about was the fact that I did not have to drive for a whole three-hundred-and-sixty-five days. I have now been here for almost five months, and as is generally the case with moving halfway across the country and starting a new job, it has been much more than I expected (shocking, I know.). I have been somewhat biased against the Northeast as a whole, and there was not much I had ever heard about Philadelphia that prompted me to look closer. I arrived in the middle of July, when the free outdoor events were in full swing- concerts, movies in the park, yoga by the Schuylkill, beer gardens- this painted a much more lively and exciting picture of the city where my highest expectations were of reasonably well functioning public transit (we've escaped one SEPTA strike so far, I'll keep y'all updated). It turns out that Philadelphia is actually a really cool city, with some rich history and interesting organizations to boot. My placement as a case manager has been an incredible learning experience, and there has never been a dull day. I am the first full-time case manager at my placement, which means I have not only been learning the ropes of my position, but working with the house’s program coordinator to shape my role in the house. This location is home to sixteen formerly homeless women with a history of mental health diagnoses and/or substance abuse. My day-to-day role includes working with residents on creating care plans, assisting with daily living skills, interfacing with social service agencies, planning community building events, and dealing with mental health crises. Working with the women at my placement has taught me some valuable skills that I will be able to take with me to practically any career, as well as cemented my desire to continue my education and eventually earn a Ph.D. in clinical psychology. The third piece of my move to Philadelphia that has gone above and beyond to exceed expectations is the community living aspect of the program. Our housing placement is currently home to four SY members (as well as two rather exuberant yellow labs whenever the Rector is out of town). We all rapidly bonded on move-in day over a mutual love of Harry Potter. Never actually having read the last book (I know, I know, but I’ve read them now, okay!), I spent the month of September re-reading and reading all seven of the books. We have also bonded over a mutual love of Disney and puzzles, and rather quickly formed a tight-knit group. We all have different placements (and work schedules), and it has been great to come home every day to such a supportive community. We have some established routines and guidelines that make our community living more “intentional”. We try to eat all our meals in the kitchen instead of our individual rooms, we have community dinner on Tuesdays, and we say compline together on weeknights. It has become clear to me that I rather underestimated both the city I now call home, and the program that brought me here. I fully expect for the rest of my months here to continue to exceed even the revised expectations I now have for my year of service. Elizabeth Serves as Case Manager at Bethesda Project. By Chris Neville
I think my experience in Servant Year thus far can be boiled down to these two realizations:
Take this, for example: I remember, during orientations at various retail jobs, my new employers telling me that I was going to gain customer service skills that would be valuable in my later career. I nodded politely, thinking to myself, But actually no, because I am not planning on making retail a career. Heh. Guess what?Those grueling shifts at Arby’s and Bath and Body Works really did hone my customer service skills, and I really am using them. Thanks to those experiences, I can throw myself into a Saturday morning grocery distribution at St. Peter’s and manage to be kind and present to every client and volunteer, no matter how crazy the last one I met was. If I can exude positive energy toward a woman ready to take me to court over an expired coupon, I can be positive toward a grumpypants who needs some food. My service sector supervisors were right, after all. Wow. Thanks, guys. As a student, when I would have to work with or talk to people who got on my nerves for one reason or another, I would do my best to appreciate their good qualities. Always in the back of my mind, however, was a thought akin to: This person needs to learn ____, or she will not make it in the real world. You just can’t act like that! I think I assumed that all “successful” adults possess a fully formed array of social skills. That, it turns out, is not true. Lacking social skills does not mean you lack marketable skills. As a result, difficult people do not disappear from your life after college. Darn. My senior year of high school, when I was applying to colleges, a few people recommended that I take a gap year. The thought terrified me. A year of aimlessness? How about “no”? My life needed to follow a defined course of action. So I didn’t know what I wanted to major in. I admitted that was a problem, but delaying college and taking a mysterious unstructured year in which to “find myself” would have been a much bigger problem. You see where this is going. Servant Year is very much like a gap year (for some people, it is one). I am not working toward a structured, multi-year goal. I am exploring career options, going to discernment meetings, and trying new things. Wonderfully, I have become ok with this. Even through the end of my last year at college, I was working fervently to nail down exactly what my vocation is and to make it happen. Through the readings we have had for spiritual formation meetings, I have come to accept that my vocation is not one thing that I have to find before I can fully live my life. Rather, I have come to respect that I will find my vocation by listening to my inner leadings. I can appreciate God at work in my life now instead of trying to envision what a God-filled life would look like. I am finally at a place where I am comfortable spending years exploring different careers and lifestyles. Alleluiah. Chris Serves as Program Manager for St. Peter's Food Cupboard. By Catherine Shaw
My bed in the House of Prayer rectory is a comfortable full-size mattress, but my sheets don’t quite fit, since I was told I would be sleeping on a queen bed. This isn’t a big deal; I’m only mentioning it because I’m going to use this image as an analogy later on, so bear with me. I moved to Philly from a Cleveland suburb, and, before I moved, everyone was telling me that I was in for a really big change, that I would probably be dealing with culture shock for a while, and that I should prepare to be bewildered. Well, they were right, but not in the way they thought they were. I’ve been in Philly for about six weeks now, and I’m feeling pretty comfortable with the city itself: I’m jaywalking like a pro, SEPTA and I are tight, and I’ve gotten pretty good at ignoring sirens. So the city and I are good, at least as far as I’m concerned. However, my experience in the Episcopalian world is a different story. Although I currently consider myself nondenominational, I grew up in the Methodist Church, and my thinking about Episcopalian worship and practices before Servant Year went along these lines: “We’re Protestant, and so are they, so it can’t be that different.” Yeah, right. I’ve attended nineteen Episcopalian masses since I arrived in Philly, and I feel a bit like a full-size mattress trying to fit into queen-size bedding. Eleven inches. That’s the difference between a full and a queen. It doesn’t seem worth noticing, but those eleven inches (five in width and six in length) lead to a difference of 730 square inches (roughly thirty square feet), which is a significant difference. In the same way, the short, “it’s all the same” distance between the Methodist and Episcopalian traditions has morphed into a vast and bewildering gulf that I cannot bridge. Here’s a short list of some the things I’ve found discombobulating: saints; praying to saints; real wine at communion (gasp!); incense; chant during mass; it’s called mass; crossing oneself; the eerie proficiency exhibited by Episcopalians while reading responsively; bowing left, right, and center; the hymns don’t have titles, which makes finding a familiar one difficult; even familiar hymns often have a small difference in words or music that throws me for a loop; the Book of Common Prayer; etc. (Note: some of these are listed because St. Luke’s, the parish where I work and worship, worships in the Anglo-Catholic style; not all Episcopalian churches use incense or chant.) Much of what I’ve listed is superficial, but, combined with the more profound differences, it has made finding my footing in the Episcopalian world difficult. I wish it were as easy as solving my sheet problem: I just stuffed the extra material tightly under one side of the mattress, and now I’m good to go. Unfortunately, becoming more comfortable with the Episcopalian tradition will probably take a little more effort. I’ve mostly figured out when things happen in the service (i.e. crossing, bowing, etc.), and the conformist in me wants to be satisfied with that and just assimilate as quickly as possible. The rebel in me disdains such an approach and thinks I should refuse to “give in” to assert and maintain my independence (yes, I know it’s petty). I’m hoping that they will duke it out, while whatever rationality exists in me tries to understand the questions that face me now: Where do these Episcopalian practices and beliefs come from? What is there meaning and significance? Which ones do I want to integrate into my own spiritual beliefs and practices and which ones do I lay aside? I probably won’t have figured everything out by the end of this year, and I also doubt that I will fully embrace the Episcopalian tradition. So I will still be a full-size mattress amid a company of queens, but I hope that, instead of trying to fit into the wrong size bedding, I will be at peace with being a misfit and able to say: “This is who I am. I don’t quite fit, and that’s okay because I don’t really need to.” Catherine Serves as Outreach Coordinator at St. Luke's Episcopal Church. By Trish Johnston
The Maritime industry is a unique world of its own. Through working with the Seamen’s Church Institute of Philadelphia and South Jersey over the last two months, I’ve gotten to learn about this world that not many people get to see, or even know exists. 90% of the consumer goods we use each day come to us through international shipping. Take a look around you: your cellphone, the banana you brought with lunch, the chocolate bar sitting in the candy dish. You have all of these things in part thanks to international shipping and, if you’re in the greater Philadelphia region, our port. SCI is an agency that helps the workers that keep the international shipping industry running. Annually, we see 30,000 seafarers who dock in our terminals from countries all over the world. So far, I have personally met seafarers from the Philippines, Germany, Ukraine, Russia, India, Romania, China, Latvia and Georgia. The ships these seafarers work on are massive floating structures. Two days a week I get the opportunity to actually board huge cargo ships to visit the crew members. You truly never know what you’re going to get when you head to a terminal for a ship visit. One day I boarded a ship to discover what looked like aliens out of a movie moving slowly down the hall towards me. Turns out it was just the coast guard in full fire-proof gear, doing a drill. One day I boarded my first car ship. Imagine a twelve story parking garage that floats. That’s what this ship was. It even had an elevator on board. But I happened to board during the offload of 1,600 vehicles. Longshoremen board the ship, get in a car, drive it to a lot close by, hop in a van, get driven back up to the ship and do it all over again. It’s chaotic, overwhelming and loud as you’re standing in the hull and it was quite an experience for my first time on the auto ship. While working for SCI gives me great stories to tell about the Maritime industry, the best stories come from the seafarers we serve. 98% of them are male and usually work a 6-9 month contract, have 3 months of vacation and then are back out at sea. They live a hard life, away from their families for long stretches of time. SCI provides little things like phone cards, transportation, and home cooked meals, to try to make these guys’ lives a little better. On one of my first days out visiting, the seafarers asked to be taken somewhere they could transfer money. It had already been a stressful day and then we got lost trying to find the Western Union. When we finally arrived, we sat in the van so the seafarers could go inside. It felt like it took them forever to go what they needed to do. My fellow visitor Sharon and I fervently discussed how much gas we were wasting idling outside the shop, how much time we had spent waiting and how many more stops we had left in our day (it was several). We were anxious to get moving so that we could get everything done. In a later conversation with the seafarer I learned that he was wiring money home because his 7 year old daughter was in the hospital and his wife needed money to pay the doctor. He assured me that she was going to be ok, that it was just a high fever and that he was very appreciative of the van ride. It was a nice reminder of how much our work means to the people we serve. It didn’t matter how long we waited or how much gas we burned. We were making a difference for someone who really needed it. Another day, we got word that a Filipino seafarer who had family in Philadelphia was coming into port in Camden, but lacked the proper visa to get off the ship. We worked with the security of the terminal and family to get them access to the ship. We were able to facilitate a reunion between the seafarer and his sister and nephew. It was the first time they had seen each other in 11 years, since before the sister and her children emigrated to the United States. I was able to be there as they came on board, hugs were exchanged and tears flowed (maybe a few of mine too). Its experiences like these that make me so grateful that I was placed at SCI. Every day when I hop into the van, I never know what’s waiting for me, every day is an adventure, just the way I like it! Trish serves as Volunteer Coordinator at Seamen's Church Institute. By Michelle Day
Earlier this week a student left a note for me in my mailbox. The topic of the note consisted of self-esteem troubles, arguments with peers, and other typical thirteen year old challenges. Towards the end of the note though, this student wrote that they wished that they had “a perfect life like [me].” I let out a sarcastic laugh when I read that sentence. I’m now two months into my placement, and every day continues to present its own challenges (in addition to dealing with coffee stains). In case you’ve blocked out ages 11-14 from your memory, life for the average middle schooler is a constant battle of juggling school work, sleep, extra curriculars, and of course, socialization. Now add in factors such as poverty, violence, abuse, limited food, lack of sleep, death, sickness, and a public school system that continues to fail into that equation. The world has been against most of these students for their entire lives, and now it’s up to a small group of passionate and determined teachers and staff at a small school with a bright red door to take these students who have been living tragedies and show them that they can make their stories into an epic, if they’re willing to push through the pain and suffering in order to get there. No pressure. As a bright eyed and optimistic 22 year old recent graduate, it’s easy for me to dream about a future where underprivileged children overcome the obstacles placed before them and become the world’s best readers and write stories that get turned into movies and go on to graduate college and become doctors, lawyers, and teachers; creators and dreamers and world changers in their own right, all because of what education was able to do for them. Before moving to Philly over the summer, I decided that I was going to challenge myself to use the phrase “present over perfect” as my motto during my time of service. Throughout my time so far at Saint James, this simple idea of being “present over perfect” has morphed into my mantra, my battle cry, and my whispered prayer on days filled with chaos, spilled coffee, bruised hearts, and tired eyes. In order for these future world changers to become successful, I now understand that there are going to be days where I feel helpless, where I feel like I’m failing and wish I had stayed in bed. There are times when the future violinist decides he doesn’t want to do his reading homework, and the future doctor gossips about the future actress and the future athlete lets a moment of anger and frustration turn into a half hour long temper tantrum. Vowing to be present over perfect means that I still get out of bed on days when I feel sick and dread the long day ahead. It means saying “Good Morning” and shaking a student’s hand even when they refuse to say hello back to me and accuse me of not caring. And when a student brings me to the point of tears, it means that I have the courage to walk away, take a deep breath (or a hundred), and try again the next day. Throughout my time at Saint James School so far, as I focus my time on being present in the moment, I’ve discovered that even with the long hours, sore feet, and stuffy noses, I’m learning how to appreciate the journey in front of me more and more. I still have goals and I still have hopes and dreams, but the stories of the kids who can’t read or who break down on a daily basis, the ones who hate math and refuse to write-they are a part of something bigger, and I get to play a part in this story. I’ve found that when I take the time to pull the future nurse aside and talk to her and ask if she’s okay, when I eat lunch with the fashion designer and sit next to the artist in class and work besides them on their level, I am able to show them that I care-that their progress each day fills my heart with joy. And as a result, we all move a step closer towards healing and creating a better future filled with real life superheroes and world changers..together Michelle's Ministry Placement is at St. James School as an Instructional Assistant. The Rev. Cathy Kerr
Once a month Servant Year members have the opportunity to gather for group spiritual direction. The foundation of this experience is the belief that God speaks to us through ordinary experiences that we can help each other to notice and understand. The term spiritual direction has a long history, but unfortunately it can be misleading for modern people because it seems to suggest that someone else will tell you what to do, or what to believe. It might be more helpful instead to think of it as spiritual companionship, a relationship in which another person listens with you as you sort through the thoughts and feelings that accompany your experiences, looking to identify where God is leading you. While spiritual direction in its traditional form involves working with an individual spiritual director, this process can also take place in a group setting. Here is how it works in Servant Year: We gather and share a few minutes of silence to help us settle into being present where we are, attentive to each other and to the ever-present God. After a brief check-in, we turn our attention to a reflection question or exercise for the day. Then, speaking out of the silence, those present have the opportunity to share their thoughts – or not. Members of the group listen carefully to each speaker and may ask open, honest questions in response. These questions – which may be answered out loud, or not – are never intended to challenge or elicit information out of idle curiosity, but rather to open the possibility of new or different understanding. The answers are accepted as offered; we own our own experiences, and there is no cross-conversation about them. Later, toward the end of the session, there is time for wrap-up discussion and feedback offered in a general sense. Finally, we end in silence. Anything that happens in life can be considered in spiritual direction, but some basic questions tend to come up again and again: Who am I? Why am I here? What do I want to become? What do I believe? Who is God to me? What are my values, and how can I make a difference in life? What am I good at? Where do I find deep joy in my life, and what gives me the deepest satisfaction? When do I feel that I am my most authentic self? When do I feel most alive? Where am I experiencing growth? Although we might experience a jumble of ideas and emotions when we first come up against questions like these, patterns and understanding gradually begin to emerge as we sort through them and talk them out, and the way ahead begins to seem clear. This kind of meaning-making is important at every stage of life, but it is particularly relevant for Servant Year members who are living an experience that will come to an end within a limited period of time. “What's next?” becomes a question that each one will have to find a way to answer. As an Episcopal priest I feel comfortable using traditional religious language, but I think it’s worth noting that spiritual direction can be a helpful process for those whose beliefs are different, or who aren’t exactly sure what they believe. Our spirituality has to do with the basic driving forces of our lives, our deepest desires and dreams, and as such it is the source of all that gives our lives meaning. Whether you call it “listening for the voice of God” or “listening to your own inner leadings,” or “recognizing your own deepest wanting,” I believe you are describing the same process. Our goal in spiritual direction is to make this awareness an ongoing way of life. The Reverend Cathy Kerr is Servant Year's Spiritual Director. By Annie Salorio
I’m spending this year serving as the Youth Ministry Assistant in the Episcopal Diocese of Pennsylvania. Along with the routine administrative work expected in an office setting, I provide assistance with some more creative projects. At the moment, I’m working on a series of daily devotions for the upcoming Advent season. Interested parties can sign up to receive two text messages every day, from the first Sunday of Advent at the end of November, all the way to Epiphany in early January. In the morning, they receive a relevant scripture verse to consider for the day, along with a related prayer in the evening. My job is to select the scriptures and write the prayers. And, to make things especially fun, these texts must be 140 characters or less. No easy task, but I’m very much enjoying the challenge so far. As I was selecting scripture passages, I came across one that was very familiar. It is one of the opening passages of the Gospel of John. “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” Not only is this passage familiar, but it’s short. Perfect for the requirements of my project, but also something to watch out for. Short passages are easy to gloss over and forget about, especially ones as familiar as this. We think we know what this passage means. We’re convinced that it’s simple, too obvious to spend too much time considering. But let’s pause for a minute. There are many things that this little passage does not say. For example, it asserts that the light shines, but it doesn’t promise that we will see or appreciate the light when it comes. Need a real world parallel? This wonderful job I’ve been given for the year. It’s giving me valuable work skills, introduced me to hard-working, kind people, and makes sure that I’m always busy and fulfilled, which fends off boredom and loneliness. But on days when I’m stressed and tired, robbed of an opportunity to lounge on my bed with a book or reconnect with old college friends, the “light” of these benefits may go unnoticed. This passage also doesn’t promise that there won’t be moments when it seems like the darkness is winning. We in Servant Year have probably noticed this already. Many of our placements involve work with vulnerable populations. Despite their hard work, good intentions, and desperate need, people continue to suffer. We pray that our little bits of help may be a “light” to them, but cynicism can make it all seem pointless. Obviously, this passage has great theological meanings for Christianity. But Servant Year has made me see it through the lens of our experience this year. You come into a program like Servant Year so optimistic. Optimistic about yourself and the personal growth you’re sure to accomplish. Optimistic about the people you’ll meet and the impact you might have. And then you come up against all sorts of darkness. The darkness of the world around us, that makes our idealistic vision hard to achieve, and sometimes, even as our hearts break to say it, impossible. The darkness of our own flaws, when we’re forced to admit that sometimes, even when people we’ve come to value and respect need our help, we sometimes just don’t want to help. In these moments, the message of this beautiful scripture can seem hollow. “The darkness did not overcome it.” Really? Because that darkness is seeming pretty darn powerful. Not to mention stubborn, since it keeps. Coming. Back. That’s why we need to reexamine this piece of scripture. It’s not so simple. The presence of darkness in our work and lives is not a sign of tragic failure, or that the world around us is crumbling. This year, we must remember that darkness is an opportunity for light to show itself. Now, I say this as though it’s easy. I know it’s not. And I also know that I haven’t suggested anything terribly radical here. We all know this to be true. No pain, no gain, as the saying goes. We know it. It’s a cliche. We’re probably sick of hearing it. But here it is again, for those moments when you need a little reminder. In darkness and light, we’re in this together. Annie is serving as Youth Ministry Assistant for the Episcopal Diocese of Pennsylvania this year. |
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