A Walk for Change

“Be safe!” “Stay away from the Southside.” These are a few examples of the many advice friends and family gave me before I left for Chicago. Up until now, most of them did not know about some of the areas I have visited because if they did, they would be very uncomfortable and worried. This feeling of uneasiness was the same experience I had when I first walked the streets in the Back of The Yards neighborhood. It is definitely a different experience seeing and hearing about something on TV and being there in person.  Being on the streets has certainly taught me that the reality I know is not the only reality there is out there and that one can never fully understand a situation without being fully engrossed in it.

I wasn’t really sure what to expect the first day I did the walk with Brother Jim and Megan. From what I had been able to gather about him, I could tell he wasn’t insane so I took comfort in the fact that he wouldn’t still be doing this after all these years if it wasn’t safe.  All the people we visited with that day seemed very nice and very “normal”. I use the word normal because they were just like you and I. From the horrible stories I knew about the neighborhood, I was expecting to meet a different breed of people. I guess I mostly felt this way because I didn’t and still don’t understand why anyone would do any of the things that happen in these neighborhoods. Almost all the stories I have heard are violence-related and it just made it very difficult for me to understand.  I still don’t understand why the violence exists because I got the sense that all the adults that were at one time involved in the violence and drugs regret the choices they made as young men and women. I was taught as a child that violence never solves anything and from what I know so far, I still find that to be true so I just wonder why some of these people join gangs and do these horrendous acts.

One thing that I think could be a part of the answer I am looking for is poverty. I was amazed to see the living conditions of some of the people we visited. Some of these families have close to nothing and I feel for the young children that have to grow up there. In these neighborhoods, poverty can not only be seen in the houses but in the streets as well. Most of the neighborhood is covered with garbage and the place just doesn’t look pleasant. I think it is a shame to see places like that in America. We all could be doing a bit extra to get rid of poverty-stricken areas like these.

At the end of the day, I was very pleased I decided to go on the walk. I was touched by the amount of gratitude the people in the streets showed Br. Jim and Megan. Who knew something as simple as a prayer could mean so much to so many people.  It was shocking to see how many young and old people stopped us to ask for a rosary. It taught me that in the end, the little things in life do matter and just going around and saying hello can make a huge difference in someone’s life.  Being in the streets was an eye-opening experience; one that I hope we all have at some point in our lives.

–Evans Yamoah, Benedictine Service Volunteer, St James Church

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Reflection: 5th Sunday of Easter

 

Acts 14:21-27; Rev. 21:1-5a; John 13:31-33a,34-35

 

The first reading tells us that Paul and Barnabas went throughout the Mediterranean World proclaiming the Good News of Jesus rising from the dead. The Good News that Paul and Barnabas spoke of was expressed by John in the second reading, “Behold, God’s dwelling is with the human race. God will dwell with them (us) and they (we) will be his people and God himself will always be with them (us) as their (our) God.” (21:3). The Parentheses are my interpretation.

 

As a quick disclaimer in verse 4, John says, “God will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or mourning, wailing or pain, for the old order has passed away.” Now obviously the second has not come to pass on earth, but the first part, I believe, is true.

 

If Jesus brought us good news that he has power over even death and if God is in the midst of the human race, why do Christians have so many problems? I think it is because we ignore the commandment Jesus gives us today, “…I give you a new commandment: love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another” (Jn13:34). Instead of loving others we focus on faith and over-coming sin. Many of us worry about how we can get closer to God, try to prevent sin from affecting our lives, and we can become neurotic.
The problem with focusing on faith is that faith and faith experiences are not linear. We do not grow in faith by following prescribed steps to holiness even if some Christians say we can. We cannot earn holiness, because holiness is a gift we grow into through wisdom (finding God in our life experiences) and by loving as Jesus commands.

 

A friend of mine recently shared that he and his brother were like the prodigal sons. He felt that God loved his brother whose life consisted of high highs and low lows. He on the other hand had remained faithful for decades, but felt his faith was weak and desired to grow as a man of God..

 

I told him that I too believed his brother was blessed, but that his brother had woken with the pigs on numerous occasions. That is what sins does to us. We end up living with the pigs or sin forces others to live with the pigs. The point of the story is that the father loved both of his sons and had seen from a distance how much the younger son had suffered. When people have slept with the pigs, they carry those scars always.

 

My experience of being a follower of Jesus Christ is following the commandment that he gives us today- Loving one another. By following Jesus’ example and the example of the father of the Prodigal son, I find the “Kingdom of God” enters into my life.

 

–Brother Jim Fogarty, Brothers and Sisters of Love

 

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The Case of the Chocolate Bunny

A well-built man, commanding in presence and successful in life, is first to admit he did not think walking the streets was the greatest idea ever invented. He did not immediately see the wisdom in approaching gang members, especially the ones who glared menacingly at him as he walked down their block. The fear was tangible. But nevertheless, our board member Bill committed to walking once a week with Brother Jim, and has come to cherish the time with the residents.

 

Bill always fills his yellow bag with something for the journey—gloves in the winter, water in the summer, and dog bones for the pets in the neighborhood. He personifies generous. On this past walk during Holy Week, however, he revealed something unique: His bag was exploding with chocolate Easter bunnies.

 

He recounts a moment of truth as we all began to walk South down 51st Street on the Southside of Chicago.

 

“The first year we did this, I was only planning on giving chocolates to the kids. There were these guys on the corner, and oh man, they did not look inviting. I had said to Brother Jim, “We are not going over there.” Brother Jim wanted me to give them the chocolate bunnies I had for that Easter, and I was sayng no way! Those guys do not want a chocolate bunny.” He was emphatic in his tone.

 

“But then Brother Jim did what he does best, and started approaching the corner anyway, so I had to follow. And what do you know? Those guys loved those darn bunnies! It was unbelievable!” Bill seemed as though the shock had never faded, even though he was prepared to repeat the now-tradition this year.

 

In that moment, those who seemed unapproachable became friendly and welcoming. Br Jim and Bill were able to engage in conversation, spanning sports, the news, and the neighborhood, and in Bill’s eyes, the “criminals” transformed into mere companions.

 

To those who have never spent significant time in the streets, this is in fact an unbelievable story, and goes against our assumptions about gang members. We have images of tough, hardened criminals who have lost the ability to feel and want anything but power.

 

And yet, inside that hardened shell prepared to defend his corner is still a young boy who was robbed of his childh

 

ood. He never got an elaborate Easter Basket. He had holiday dinners at the food pantry, not a Norman Rockwell-style feast with extended family and both parents present. The desire to be childlike never goes away; it is only suppressed by circumstance.

 

Gang members are not spontaneously-created evil-beings. They are boys forced into manhood, while not having any idea what that means. They act to survive, just as we do. They act to feed themselves, just as we do. They act to gain status among their friends, just as we do. They also watch sports, movies, the news, and the shocking TV episode finale, just as we do.

 

It is not complicated programs and grand schemes that break down barriers in our ministry. Sometimes all it takes to make a connection is to remind one another of these commonalities, even something as simple as a craving for a chocolate bunny.

 

~Megan Cottam, BSL

 

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Listening to the Voices of the Streets

 

We approached her home like we do every week, excited to see our friend, expecting to crack a few jokes, get a good hug, and proceed down the street. There was nothing unusual about the day, and no major crisis had developed in the area or in her life.

 

The only difference was the addition of a journalist, a free-lancer looking to create a documentary on the area and feel out the neighborhood. She had walked with us for several weeks, and to our neighborhood friends had easily become one of the pack. She also had taken to our comical friend, and was interested in interviewing her.

 

Ahead of time, our friend was nervous. This middle-aged woman was worried she didn’t have the right answers, or wasn’t interesting enough, or even worse, that she would be heard. She was afraid her name might be published, and her neighbors would punish her for any truth that criticized them. After allaying her fears, the microphone came out, the television was silenced, and the interview began. Five questions and two hours later, we were all transformed.

 

What was so powerful? The reporter only asked very brief, broad questions, allowing periods of silence to occur and letting our friend speak for as long as she needed.

 

The power came from listening. This was one of the few times that someone validated our friend by asking to listen to her story, as she told it, under her terms. Her words weren’t twisted, or boxed into pre-assumed thoughts and patterns, or judged or ignored. They were not immediately analyzed under the microscope of scholarly articles, psychological implications, or any other device that we love to use when ministering to the poor.

 

Sometimes we fail to value the wisdom and insight that comes from the stories of those to whom we minister. We fail to acknowledge the benefit of simply listening to another’s journey, but when we do, we become fascinated by the perseverance of humanity. We appreciate these individuals all the more.

 

A middle-aged man, ex-felon, and friend of Brothers and Sisters of Love is determined to fight for change in his community. He has reformed his ways, remained clean from his addictions, and is doing everything he can to make connections, find work, and lift up his community. He writes poetry and has even penned a book. People tell him that he is great and that he inspires them, but he cannot find a way to get paid. They say they will help, but nothing comes through. He repeats that his community is dying today, and time is of the essence. He is clashing with the churches and professionals he looked to for leadership because for over a year no money has come. He has not been exposed to or prepared for the arena of grants, waiting periods, meetings, and collaborations. This clash is starting to escalate, and he is growing in anger at those trying to help. No one is listening to his specific demands. Ignoring his anger can lead to an incredible backlash.

 

This pattern is often seen in those returning citizens attempting to do something positive with their lives. The values and systems of the poor are not the values and systems of the Church, social services, court systems, or any other structures aimed at increasing their chances for a successful future. These systems have their methods, and they mute the important voice of those with whom they work. As a result, these returning citizens grow frustrated, weary, feel unsupported, and return to their old ways, needing comfort and stability.

 

Why is it so hard to listen? Listening to others requires releasing control and pre-conceived notions about a given situation. It is inefficient. It is emotionally draining. Narratives can be boring, repetitive, or seem off-track. They can even be filled with lies and conspiracies. However, it is precisely the details that seem off the wall that may lead to insight.

 

People question how Brother Jim can enter the streets when others cannot. The answer is simple: Through years of listening he appreciates people’s history and he creatively responds to their cries, listening most of all to the Spirit of God in their midst.

 

~Megan Cottam, BSL
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Defining “Church.”

If someone were to ask you what “Church” means, what would you say? Is it a building? A set of beliefs? A group of people? A challenge to act? The way we define Church determines how we treat others.

In the past few weeks, Brother Jim and I have met with various community leaders about what the Church’s role should be in Chicago. We’ve sat with pastors from the Near North community desiring to meet people in the neighborhood for the purpose of inviting them into their faith communities. We also met with a group of committed citizens who are working against the violence in the city who want to bring “Church” to the streets, and preach a certain message. In our own Catholic tradition, we have been supported by the Catholics 4 Nonviolence, who see the Church as a powerful resource to bring the language of Gospel nonviolence into the community.

We also heard a growing push for a “smaller but more faithful” Catholic Church community, focusing on obedience to the magisterium. The Church becomes a pure vessel rejecting the sinful state of the world. However, our final conversation is what struck me. We gave a talk at the Archdiocese of Chicago’s Leadership Day, where our audience had just come from a reflection on the Creed.

One parishioner, inspired by this reflection, asked an earnest, well-intentioned question: “How do we get guys on the streets to come to Church? To believe in the Creed as we do?” He was concerned that the friends of Brothers and Sisters of Love were not in Sunday Mass.

The desire was correct, but the focus was wrong. His desire was for these young, troubled people to find Christ, but the focus was on getting a body in a pew. Reciting the Creed without an experience of the grace and love Christ brings is empty lip-service. Stepping foot in a physical building called “Church” is not the same thing as experiencing Christ.
One of our friends at BS/L exemplifies this. Her mother is a pastor, so learning the rules of Christianity was not the issue. Regardless of this upbringing, our friend had lived a troubled life, in and out of homelessness, prostitution, and other trappings of the streets. When we entered her life, love did not begin with Mass, but with an air conditioner so she could breathe despite her asthma. It continued with home visits and building a caring relationship. Throughout the years, a mutuality developed until she could experience grace and love in her own neighborhood, alongside the grace felt by BS/L. Years later, she just now has begun returning to Church services, in gratitude for the conversion she has experienced.

Think of your own faith journey. How did you come to know Christ? Sure, you may have been a cradle Catholic as I am, but regardless there was some experience as a youth or adult that caused you to remain committed to your beliefs.

I can name the moment. It was a particularly trying day in Jaipur, India, working with abandoned and abused street-kids. The non-profit where I interned had just rescued a child—a walking ghost—and was trying to nurture the mutilated, malnourished boy back to health. He was mute and partially deaf, but despite the odds I was able to teach him to hold a pencil and write for the first time at age 10. After writing the letter “A,” this boy celebrated as if he had painted a Picasso. In his eyes was Jesus conquering death all over again. Nothing else mattered, and nothing was impossible with the grace I experienced teaching him.

It is from that faith experience that I grew deeper into the practices of the Catholic Church. I was drawn to the Eucharist, seeing it as fuel to go forth and love when it seemed most daunting. I was attracted to Mary’s journey and her humility. I could say the words of the Creed, having this experience in my head, speaking each syllable with gratitude and joy for what God had done in my life.

As soon as we treat the Church only as a building to bring people into the beliefs, creeds, and practices of a religion without also seeing it as a starting point to go forth from to love one another, we deny Jesus’ teachings. Jesus set out to bring people the Good News. He did not force people into any type of behavior, but loved them until that love caused a conversion experience. The Gospel is full of conversions: From Peter, to Paul, and everyone in between. If we desire for others to know Christ, then we must bring the love we have out to meet our neighbors wherever they are, even in the poorest communities and most violent streets, the most criminal of prisons and most unforgiving of crowds.

What will Church be for you? What will you make Church for those who need you? Will you allow your love to be the first account of Christ your neighbor experiences? Let your light shine so that others will say, “I believe in one God…” and understand its glorious implications.

~Megan Cottam, BSL

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For the Least.

English: An MS-13 suspect bearing gang tattoos is handcuffed. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

In one of our usual strolls through the Cabrini Green row-houses, the sidewalks were abandoned and the air eerily still. Where was everybody? We soon understood. As soon as we spotted our teenage friends, an unmarked police car swooped onto the scene, spilling out armored policemen running in pursuit of them. The young men were handcuffed to each other, patted down and taunted while background checks were run. During this process, the police chortled in satisfaction as they mocked them and chipped away at their dignity, flexing their power and privileged position. Eventually, all of the four teenagers were released without charges. Some lives matter less than others.

Brother Jim and I continually struggle to get individuals their state IDs, so they can apply for services or obtain a job. Brother Jim, because of a government connection, was recently able to take three individuals and bypass the usual requirements, successfully getting them their proper identification. A phone call was all it took. On their own, these individuals were denied, but because of the value of Brother Jim to the community, the same individuals now had access. In that same Secretary of State’s office, however, individuals without an advocate remained frustrated from the process, unable to get the papers they needed, and shown no sympathy. Some lives matter less than others.

Have you heard of Ronnie Chambers? Jovantay Alexander? We attended their funerals recently. They met the same fate that Hadiya Pendelton did. They too, had mothers who mourned, knees weak at the loss of their children. They too, had packed funerals, and friends with cherished memories of their lives. They too were shot at a far too young age. But their lives did not matter to the media. The First Lady did not visit. No one outside of Chicago, much less within its borders, even stopped to flinch at the tragedy. When presenting this fact, even my fellow seminarian students challenged me: “Well, face it. They aren’t seen as people. They are monsters.” The first “monster” led a music production company that was elevating guys from the streets and helping them to get music contracts and away from the violence. The second “monster” was an unknown 19-year-old, with no visible gang connection, shot dead for hanging out in a place other than where he lived. Some lives matter less than others.

Even if these facts weren’t the case, even if these were the most hardcore criminals, they are not irredeemable “monsters.” In Matthew’s Gospel (Mt 25:31-46), Jesus explains that loving the least is loving Christ. Why do these “monsters” commit acts that scare the general public? Because when they were hungry, no one fed them. When they cried out for justice, no one answered them. When they were in prison, no one visited them except the gang recruiter on the inside. When they sat in the kindergarten classroom unable to read, no one taught them. Society’s love or hatred determined their fate. Because some lives mattered less than others, the least were left behind.

Violence will not end until we love one another, even the harshest of criminals. If you look at the tragedies of our nation—Sandy Hook, Aurora, Virginia Tech, and every shooting of Chicago, a background of abused, unloved, thrown-away people precedes their acts of violence. Before they were perpetrators, they were victims, denied the love that belongs to even the “least.” Do not let community boundaries, the media, criminal status, or any other classification determine who you love and value. Let that determination be made by Christ, who taught us to love our neighbor—all of them—as ourselves.

~Megan Cottam, BSL

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The Corner.

55th and Ashland in Chicago…God, I love that corner! Brother Jim and I walk together in that area every Wednesday as part of our ministry for Brothers and Sisters of love. It’s called the “Back of the Yards” by those who know Chicago. We visit neighborhoods from 47th Street to 55th Street and three or four blocks east and west of Ashland Avenue. But the hub of all activity for us is at 55th and Ashland—a melting pot of people from the area. Near an abandoned currency exchange there is a covered area at the bus stop and a small Bodega that competes with the commerce going on out in the street.

No matter what the weather, it’s rare if we don’t interact with at least a dozen or more people at this intersection. Sometimes the corner is empty as we approach, but suddenly people appear out of nowhere and converge upon us. I am now affectionately referred to as “Brother Bill,” and I cannot think of a more appropriate place to practice our street ministry of love.

The people we meet are incredible, and Jim and I always talk about how blessed we are to have them as our friends. One of my best friends, Pete, sells Newport’s one cigarette at a time for 50 cents apiece. Some days business is better than others. Sometimes in the winter Pete offers to take us to White Castle and buy us cups of hot chocolate. It is not lost on me that this is a very big expense for a man whose profit is only $3.00 for selling a pack of cigarettes one cig at a time.

An integral part of our ministry is being able to accept gifts from those people we regularly help. They need to feel the goodness of giving as well. One man sells “pimp oil” and chides me to bring some home to my “special lady.” I remind him that if I start bringing pimp oil home to my wife she might not be so thrilled about my walking ministry. We double over with laughter. My friend George sells bootleg movies for $2.00 each. Much of the time his wife is also on the corner, but she doesn’t sell anything. She is there to support George and keep him company. George always talks us up when we come; he is a big fan of our ministry. Sometimes the police come and hassle these independent entrepreneurs. But it doesn’t stop them from conducting their businesses on the corner. It just aggravates them.
So just what is our ministry on this unique corner? First of all, we pass out blessed rosaries and rosary bracelets. During holidays like Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter, we give out food cards so that no one goes hungry. In the winter, we pass out gloves. Many people need bus fare or bus cards so they can get around easier. We also give out lots of hugs, and our Wednesday reunions are always heartfelt. Our corner friends love for us to come and be a part of their lives, and we love them as well.

Most importantly, we pray. Right there on my beloved corner—55th and Ashland. We hold hands and pray out loud. Sometimes there are three or four of us; often it’s a dozen or more. They ask us to pray for them. They recognize the power of prayer. We pray for God’s presence in our lives, for our children and families, for jobs and aid, for sick friends and relatives, for peace, for health, for freedom, and for Jesus’ love. It is very powerful. Brother Jim is very moving when he prays, and many a tear has been shed at the corner of 55th and Ashland. There are a lot of “Amens” as he prays. What a beautiful thing to do—to be able to pray openly with people without fear of reprisal of embarrassment. Surely it is God’s will.

There are days when I just don’t feel like driving down to the city. Days when I don’t feel very upbeat. It is a dreary neighborhood with severe poverty and the threat of violence is everywhere. Sometimes the dark reality of poverty and its social consequences overwhelm me. But 55th and Ashland is a little slice of heaven for me. It is a rare day that I don’t feel a strong sense of love and affection as I come away from there. I go there to give, and I come away having received so much more. I thank God for that corner and the people I pray with and hold so close to my heart.

~Brother Bill Mastro, BSL Board Member

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