A Call for Justice

It is a sobering experience to walk through the streets of Camden. Though I walked these streets all last year during Mission Year, I almost had forgotten them in the 6 months I've had a car to drive. Today I decided to walk to Christus, the school I taught at last year, to play basketball with the students. I walked that path 4 times a week on average last year. I remember being frightened at first, not knowing the city well, not knowing what to expect from the faces I passed. But eventually, I became accustomed to the sounds, the sight, the feel, the smell, and the rhythms of the city. I had a love/hate relationship with that walk. Often it meant the start or end of a long day, but I loved the time it allowed my mind to reflect on what my eyes were seeing, ears were hearing, and heart was feeling. For the first 5 or 6 months I walked that way, I passed a house that always saddened my heart. Burned, gutted, boarded up and abandoned, a soul that had loved spray painted "Pepy was kill here 2/25/2009." I passed that house every day and thought about and prayed for Pepy and his family and friends left behind. I thought about the friend who had honored him in the only way they could, red spray paint over a plywood board. Around the anniversary of Pepy's death, the city began demolishing the house. Before long, it was nothing but an empty lot with a sign warning passerbys that it was off limits.

I have long since stopped noticing that empty lot, but I remember how I felt passing that house every day. It was the same way I felt today, as I walked the streets from my neighborhood to Christus. I walked down broken sidewalks strewn with trash, watching my feet as much as I was watching ahead of me to make sure I didn't trip, passing many other abandoned and boarded up houses, some of which I remember being occupied last year. One of which, lies directly across the street from where I live. A few blocks from my street, I passed a telephone pole decorated with long-since deflated mylar balloons and weather-worn stuffed animals marking the place where a friend/child/spouse/parent/sibling was murdered in late February or early March. He is one of 14 reported murders in Camden since January 1. Camden is one of the poorest and most violent cities in the nation, and it is definitely the most forgotten and oppressed.

I do not write these things to make anyone fearful for me or for admiration. I write them because they are true and because they are the mark of injustice. The injustice that has been done to Camden and its citizens is a stain on the flag of the United States of America and on Christians who claim to be the light of God in a dark world. It is injustice that children have to play on streets and sidewalks strewn with broken glass and needles and on which semi-trucks drive down 19 hours a day. It is injustice that over 50% of the houses in Camden are declared uninhabitable. It is injustice that over half the police and fire forces have been laid off this year. It is injustice that school systems have a 60% failure rate. The list goes on and on. And yet, here we are spending billions to keep our troops in Afghanistan, Iraq, and now Libya fighting for our "National security" when my friends and neighbors aren't secure in their own neighborhoods.

Today, I joined a call to fast, pray, and act with many others connected to the Sojourner's community. The Sojourners are calling people to fast, pray, and act during the month of April because of proposed budget cuts in Congress that specifically target the poor and oppressed. Budget cuts of programs to help the poor and oppressed have directly affected my friends and neighbors in Camden. Over 160 police and fire men were laid off in January because of these cuts and we have felt the affect of their absence. If you are reading this, I encourage you to do the same. To sign up with the Sojourners and become a part of their call to act upon this issue of injustice and others, please visit the website below:

http://www.sojo.net/index.cfm?action=action.home

This is a call for all of us that speaks into the very depths of our humanity and a call for Christians to be who we say we are and obey God's call to defend the poor and the oppressed. Arise and take action now.

Rent Free vs. Community

In January, I moved from a rent free living situation with a good pastor-friend in Pennsauken to a rent-paying living situation in Camden with two women my age I didn't know very well. I believed, in my heart, this was the right decision for me and I could not have been more right. In a world of shallow relationships and deep acquaintances, I feel truly blessed to be living with two women so dedicated to loving God, caring for others, and being intentional their community in relationships.

Something I have really come to hold onto recently in the face of many transitions, questions, and lack of easy answers, is that money isn't everything. So much of this world, corporate, even well-meaning friends and family members offer well-intentioned advice about stability and savings and investments...whatever. And I suppose, to a point, all of those things are important. But money comes and goes, flow into and out of our fingers like falling water. We are paid by someone so we can pay someone else for a need so they can pay others for their needs. My life does not have security because I have a consistent pay check. My life has security because I have people in it who love me and care for me well and a God who has shown up every time. I used to have a similar opinion about money coming and going easily and recognized last year that it had come out of my privilege. Now, though the theory is the same, it does not come from my experience with privilege, it comes from my experience with a caring and intentional community of people.

I had a really beautiful conversation covering a plethora of topics with my housemate, Janelle. I had only met her once before I moved in here, but she has become a fast and true friend. In being with her tonight, I felt safe, listened to, valued, and cared for. We ended our conversation with prayer (and tears on my part). My life is stable and secure because I have people like Janelle and Molly in it. And for the first time in a while I asked myself, "What is my sense of God in all of this?" I am so grateful to be in a place where God and life and relationships are talked about in real ways. I'm grateful to have been in a place last year to learn how to live authentically and vulnerably in community. And I am grateful for the awareness of my sense of God in the midst of my community now. This was absolutely the right move for me, even if I do have to pay rent.

truth in the art

In November, I was cast in Gypsy and have loved being back in the theatre again. But sometimes I forget how easy it is to fall into the trap of wanting the attention, wanting people to think I'm great, wanting to be noticed. It's a common theme in Gypsy. At the end, Mama Rose says to her daughter, "I just wanted to be noticed." To which her daughter replies, "Like I wanted you to notice me." The beautiful thing about the arts is that, by nature, it asks questions and posts uncertainties. I've been living in those places of uncertainties, disappointments, and unpredictability lately. It is funny that I've found myself as an artist, because I am really uncomfortable in uncertainties and questions without answers and that is so much of what art is. It is the bare, naked truth that we don't have the answers to life's many questions.

It is my nature and greatest temptation to strive for perfection and find my value in how good I am and can be. Last year, I learned to allow myself to be enough for God in my failures and much of the last few months has been recognizing that I'm still enough for God in my successes, not loved or valued more because of them, but loved as much in success or failure. God does not love me less when I screw up or more when I do well. The incredible danger of the day job I work now, is that it plays into that desire for perfection. If I just work hard enough, get the hang of it enough, perfect all my structures and systems, solve all the problems, answer all of the questions, then I will be great and people will praise me for how perfect I am for this job. It is way too comfortable and makes it way to easy for me to find my worth in my own successes. But as the old adage goes, "The bigger they are, the harder they fall."

The beautiful thing about theatre is that while the temptation still exists, eventually there is no room for it. Because eventually, in art, one comes to realize that all systems and structures will fail the artist, you will never "get the hang of it," and there are always more questions to be asked because art's breath of life is borne of the earth and the ever-changing struggles of humanity. It is not corporate. It does not care if you don't solve the problems. It does not exist to make money. Art does not try to sell anything but only offer itself to speak into and ask questions of the soul and the world. There is no destination point in acting and always a new horizon. I can never "perfect" myself as an actor, I can only learn to allow myself to be enough for the art as I have learned to be enough for God. Recently, I have been worrying that maybe I'm not an honest enough actor. But then realized that I've been viewing honesty all wrong. I thought being honest as an actor meant being honest with the character I'm portraying, but now I think it has more to do with being honest with who I am in the midst of the words, objectives, and feelings I'm portraying.

I am finding it really hard to be enough for my art form and to just be honest with who I am in the middle of it. Sometimes, I still just want to be noticed.

But then I tell myself:

We are not artists because we want to be seen by others, but because we want more clearly to see ourselves.

Settling In

"I am the one for whom God waits. I am awaiting the One who is awaiting me. Embrace the season of winter with hope, it is a good teacher. It will lead you to your innermost depths where God is contemplating you."

~ Macrina Wiederkehr

I'm settling in.

I have returned from Guatemala. I wish I had been able to blog while I was there but there just wasn't the space to do that. I also wish that I could explain my time there, but it is about as hard as explaining Mission Year to people. But I'll say this, being in Guatemala completely affirmed my desire to remain in Camden and moved me to officially decide on moving into Camden with my friend, Molly, and her roommate, Jannelle, after Christmas. I have a job in Cherry Hill planning birthday parties for kids that I have been somewhat surprised to find that I really like. I am still pursuing acting and being a working artist and taking voice lessons and circus classes. And I am trying to build deeper relationships with new people who have chosen to make this area home as well. Soon, Molly, Janelle, and I will work on discovering together what it means to love God, build community, love our neighbors, and pursue justice in the context of real life responsibilities. It feels strange sometimes. Sometimes I feel so busy and I'm with people all day, but still have such a sense of loneliness in my heart. But amidst that loneliness, I am also sensing this incredible feeling of strength and power. Strength that comes from somewhere inside but also somehow beyond me. It is my sense of God in the midst of some hard post-Mission Year processing/grieving, but it's really hard to articulate well. The best I can really explain it is, I'm settling in. Settling into where I find myself and where I choose to be. I feel so much more that I can actually put to words, but I am opening myself to God and trusting that even when I don't know what to make of everything I feel or what to do with it, he does.

The space between

We are here, there, not here, not there, swirling like specks of dust, claiming for ourselves the rights of the universe. Being important, being nothing, being caught in lives of our own making that we never wanted. Breaking out, trying again, wondering why the past comes with us, wondering how to talk about the past at all. - Jeanette Winterson

I read this quote earlier and just loved all the contradiction in it. I'm finding a lot of comfort in contradiction. I think I always have but the word "contradiction" was always said in ways that made it sound forbidden, dangerous, and dirty. Like the whole world would fall apart if there wasn't one right and one wrong.

Today I had a to do a demo as part of an interview to be a substitute yoga teacher at a local yoga studio. I really value the way I was treated. The woman gently corrected and critiqued me through it. She didn't expect me to be perfect, have all the right answers, or do every pose flawlessly. I was hired. It's a small step, but a step nonetheless. I love how open yoga is and how open theatre is. They exist in this world of contradictions and questions that may or may not have answers.

On another note (and I can't even believe I'm admitting this), but the truth is that facebook is depressing. I think my sister is right in calling it "The Devil's Notebook." Okay, that might be a little harsh. Still, as petty and foolish as this sounds, all the engagement pictures, wedding pictures, and baby pictures of friends and people I went to college and high school with are often the worst part of my facebook homepage experience. Not that I'm not happy for all of my facebook pseudo-friends and not that I'm even sure I want all of those things anytime in the near future, but I'm sure there must be a hint, a dash maybe, of envy? Yuck. I should just cancel my facebook account, but then where would I stalk people?

Unforced Rhythms of Grace

Today I sat in the emergency room for hours with Marilus. She's been really sick the past few days and today, after preaching two sermons, she finally gave in and admitted her need to go in. Lately I have been feeling like I'm in this awful space of nothingness. I have no rhythm or routine in my life outside of brushing my pearly whites, feeding my insane Lorelei Gilmore coffee habit, and journaling when I wake up. Other than Marilus, there is no group of people I see on a daily basis. I was gifted a free month of netflix which in theory was a wonderful idea but in practice has taken up too much time and blocked too much thought and feeling. But in a conversation with a far-away-friend, I was able to finally voice what I had felt too foolish to say out loud before. Essentially my issues boiled down to, "I don't feel like I do enough every day to live out my values and who I want to be. I feel incredibly alone and afraid to face brokenness in others and myself all over again. I feel like the Where of my life prevents me from living out Who I am. And that I don't think I trust God very much that he is present in people and places even when I'm not."

Today as I sat in the emergency room with my friend/roommate/pastor/mentor/whatever and as later I held another friend's hand as tears fell for her own brokenness, I realized that I actually do still love people. And that part of Who I am does not change because of Where I am or who I am without or what I can or can't do in that moment. I still hurt in their hurt and smile in their joy. I am awfully hard on myself. I thought I was getting better at that but maybe not. I'm reading a book called, "The Artist's Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity." It's slower going than I would like, but I was reading about self-affirmations today. Julie Cameron says basically that it is amazing how without any embarrassment we can easily "bludgeon" ourselves with negative affirmations but to offer ourselves positive affirmations feels embarrassing and silly to do even when we are alone. During our 4 or so hours of conversation in the ER, Marilus told me that there are 24 million Christians living as "untouchables" in India. "With a number like that," she asked, "how is it that they remain so oppressed? The number of oppressed people is so high, why does it stay like that?" Well, lucky for her I had just read that part about affirmations. Part of the problem of oppression is definitely the oppressors, but I think the other part is that we oppress ourselves and keep ourselves there with these negative affirmations.

"Who do you think you are? What good do you really think little old you can do? You, you one little person, really think that your love can make any difference? What makes you think you can be an artist? a writer? a scholar? a teacher? a minister? a college graduate? a high school graduate?" If I am constantly asking myself these kinds of questions, then I will live the rest of my life trusting in the little safety net of the worlds I know and not in the big hands of my Creator God who loves and cares for me. And I have to wonder, is that any life at all? Is that living or merely just surviving? All of these voices that tell me I can't, that I'm not good enough, or wise enough, or brave enough, or talented enough, or loving enough. And I listen to these voices and I don't do what I know I should do or could do because I'm afraid that they are right and I don't tell anyone else about these voices because I'm afraid to burden them, to sound stupid or crazy, or like I'm fishing for compliments and encouragement.

I need prayer. I mean, I really need prayer and I'm asking for it from whoever reads this. I don't normally ask for prayer because I'm not much into the idea of the ask-and-you-shall-receive God. I would ask that God be near me, but I know he does not know how to be absent from me. I'd ask to be provided for, but I think it is more likely that I just need to open my eyes to see how he's already doing that. Maybe that I learn to see myself as God sees me, which is not so perfect and not so much of a failure either. I want to find comfort and peace in the middle, in the uncertainty, the contradictions, and the questions. That's hard for me. I like structure. A lot. I like knowing which way is up and down, black and white, questions that have answers, and bread that always lands butter-side-down. But I think what I need now, is to find life in the questions, in the spaces between the known and the answers. Because what I'm learning more and more is that even the "known" and the "answers" are relative.

the art in us

Tonight I went to see a play at the South Camden Theatre Company. It was fantastic. The space is amazing. It is this brand new little intimate theatre right in Waterfront South Camden. The play was called, "Last Rites," set in Camden (at exactly the corner the theatre is now) in 1967 when the New York Ship Building Corporation shut down taking thousands of jobs with it. It really was the catalyst of Camden's decline into what it is now. It was a heartbreaking play. This is a heartbreaking city. By as we drove in it, both Marilus and I said with a sigh, "My Camden." In the Director's Note, he said, "Camden fell because people lost faith in themselves." But there are still some people with a lot of faith left for Camden. I met some of them tonight. Plays like the one I saw tonight is why theatre is so important to me. If it were not for theatre, the stories we tell, and the lives we represent how would we remember where we come from? The choices and lives of simple people that impact us still today even though we have forgotten them? And how would we be able to ask ourselves the really important questions about how we choose to live now? Our stories and the retelling of them are important parts of who we are. And Camden deserves to have its story told and heard because it matters. That is why I am here and that is why I do what I do as an artist, as an advocate, and as a follower of Jesus' way.

P.S. I have an audition on Tuesday! :) Hooray!!!