This is my first summer in Chicago since we moved when I was 12. Delighted at the idea of enjoying free summer stuff and paying my own way for necessary bills, I started my summer job Monday canvassing door to door for the Democratic National Committee. I knew the skepticism that accompanies such a job when I signed up and I was totally on board none-the-less because I really do think this country needs a change in leadership, and, at the least, a change from the same old white-rich-male on top. That said, I started canvassing door-to-door to raise money for the DNC. I raised $120 on my first night...then dropped to $95 the second, and it was only on the second night that I really started to believe it was good for me to spend my time raising this money because I want Obama or Clinton in the White House. After 2 1/2 days on the job, however, I kept feeling an itch, an inkling telling me I'm not on the right track. That's when I knocked on a door that revealed my own itch to me: I got canvassed. (Maybe I shoud've recruited her?) This woman told me how she volunteers for a NGO that is working to get campaigning caps since exorbitant amounts of money get poured into politics. And it clicked: I wasn't happy canvassing because I don't think that Obama or Clinton really needs the money I was working for to win in November. I'd go door to door and sign up voters in a heart beat or talk to people who are not already on board. I believe so much in people and their ability to be or get educated and make good decisions. I'll ask for money if I see a clear need, but that woman helped me understand my discomfort by pointing out the millions already at work on these campaigns. Since I can't do work that I disagree with on some level, I called my supervisor at that moment and quit. It seemed a bit rash, but I'd been so uncomfortable with myself at that work that it only made sense.
Quitting was so liberating. It's the first time in a long time that I needed to make a go-with-the-gut decision and they're always hard, but weight-lifting. Who knows? Maybe I'll canvass for Save the Children or another NGO. I want to be in community organizing, so door-to-dooring is definitely necessary, but I will only do it when I'm fully convicted and with th cause. I learned that I really cannot do things that are unclear and involve taking from others. I'd rather not make money and live in a basement's of friends and work for peace, love, and kindness.
Some say politics will never change, and to some degree, it's true. That's what citizens are for, we are meant to first elect politicians and even push candidates we believe in, but pushing issues in politics and on the streets is the top priority. People have to love others with conviction and continually work on unquestionably genuine ways of living such love. That's how good will come of politics.
Hopefully I can find a job that works for such issues and pushes them in the long run. For now, I just hope I can pay rent for the summer and learn Hindi =). Have any contacts for me?
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Rain, Rain...Come Again...
Today it's raining hard. 40 degrees and relentless wind qualify this as a bit more than an April shower. After my last class today I walked out of the back of the building directly onto the lake front. Alone I walked to the edge and watched the huge wave crash into the boulders, letting the mist and rain blow directly into my face, blurring my tears into this storm. I'm not exactly sure why I was crying and have a lump in my throat right now.
Maybe it's because we had a death penalty mitigator come speak our Perspective on Life and Death class and she told stories of real people that she cares for and loves and recognizes humanity in, people who may get the death penalty. People who are otherwise forgotten, hated, or, even worse and more common, targeted. Maybe it's because the first client she talked about grew up in Austin on the West Side of Chicago, where I grew up, and he just didn't have the support a kid needs to be succeed. Rather he had the context that makes talent into good drug dealers. Maybe it's because when I was talking to our guest speaker after class and was saying bye to her my professor came over and lightly told her, "This is Mackenzie, she's one of those students who's going to cause some ripples in this world." Maybe it's because I am realizing I have a solid number of people that have confidence that I will do just that...and I'm afraid of wasting my gift because I'm not quite sure what that gift is. Maybe it's because I know I'm privileged and do not know how to be grateful and not guilty, how to make my actions speak my heart.
I know I have the gift of an impeccable upbringing. One in which I was cared for and even spoiled some, but not unexposed or hidden from realities. I know I have friends who care a lot about me and parents and professors and chaplains I can go to for advice or direction. I know I better not blow it. And I know it's a bit ridiculous to get so upset and unsure at times. I'm just not sure what to do with myself, how to properly, or preferably unconventionally, give myself to others. My big decisions are almost always choosing between very positive things. My life is busy with wonderful people and endeavors, hopefully making a positive impact in some way.
But sometimes when I feel and hear and see parts of our world lacking in love my heart flows over and the tears spill out. I feel a little slapped in the face as my burdens are of "what's next?" when I know the best way to live is right now. Sometimes, like now, I just need to vent to regain my perspective and remember how to focus my energy.
Sometimes I just need to walk to the lake front in a storm and let it wash around me until I am cleansed, until the storm becomes the opportunity for peace and hope.
Maybe it's because we had a death penalty mitigator come speak our Perspective on Life and Death class and she told stories of real people that she cares for and loves and recognizes humanity in, people who may get the death penalty. People who are otherwise forgotten, hated, or, even worse and more common, targeted. Maybe it's because the first client she talked about grew up in Austin on the West Side of Chicago, where I grew up, and he just didn't have the support a kid needs to be succeed. Rather he had the context that makes talent into good drug dealers. Maybe it's because when I was talking to our guest speaker after class and was saying bye to her my professor came over and lightly told her, "This is Mackenzie, she's one of those students who's going to cause some ripples in this world." Maybe it's because I am realizing I have a solid number of people that have confidence that I will do just that...and I'm afraid of wasting my gift because I'm not quite sure what that gift is. Maybe it's because I know I'm privileged and do not know how to be grateful and not guilty, how to make my actions speak my heart.
I know I have the gift of an impeccable upbringing. One in which I was cared for and even spoiled some, but not unexposed or hidden from realities. I know I have friends who care a lot about me and parents and professors and chaplains I can go to for advice or direction. I know I better not blow it. And I know it's a bit ridiculous to get so upset and unsure at times. I'm just not sure what to do with myself, how to properly, or preferably unconventionally, give myself to others. My big decisions are almost always choosing between very positive things. My life is busy with wonderful people and endeavors, hopefully making a positive impact in some way.
But sometimes when I feel and hear and see parts of our world lacking in love my heart flows over and the tears spill out. I feel a little slapped in the face as my burdens are of "what's next?" when I know the best way to live is right now. Sometimes, like now, I just need to vent to regain my perspective and remember how to focus my energy.
Sometimes I just need to walk to the lake front in a storm and let it wash around me until I am cleansed, until the storm becomes the opportunity for peace and hope.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Talks and thoughts
So I'm going to go ahead and assume no one checks this anymore, since I don't really, but I like to use it now and then =)
We had a community book club meeting tonight to discuss Part I of The Nonviolent Cross. After discussing it, I thought it would have been nice if I actually got the chance to read it. We talked a lot about suffering and crucification, what's that mean? What does it mean theologically? What does it mean socially? What does it imply in the way in which we choose to live our lives. For the sake of not going on and on in my endless thoughts, I'll share the one discussion we had about the book that struck me the most.
The book relates Gandhi and Christianity in the context of nonviolence (which will be clarified to me even more after actually reading the book). In his discussion of Gandhi, Douglass cites Gandhi's fast for peace which nearly ended his life. I've watched the Gandhi movie, so I had the visual of him nearly dead lying on a cot on a second floor terrace from which he can hear the rioting that continues to corrupt his country. Many people come to him who care deeply about him begging him to eat. How can he just die when India needs him so badly? How much will his voluntary death heal the divide? Is it not remotely careless of him to die when he can do so much good in life? I remember that as I watched the movie about 2 years ago, I did not quite get it. I got that his hunger strike was to encourage peace because people loved him so much they might stop fighting for a while to keep him alive. However, I did not get the deeper meaning. I did not understand that by suffering until death if necessary was Gandhi's way of exposing the biases of humans, the lack of love we give to the marginalized, the humanity we strip from each other and the other. What if we really embraced our humanity? What if we challenged ourselves to love even if it means really suffering because we are convicted of its truth? What if we all came to the poor, the suffering (from an oppressor or other things in life), the hungry, the sick, the marginalized, the rejected, and even the oppressors and begged them to live because we are there to help them because we believe their life is one worth living because we cannot stand the idea of their senseless death?
I think that is the point Gandhi makes.
The question always comes back around to how does this apply to my life? I do not think a nonviolent path of suffering for others seeking out suffering because it seems in the context of our times it will come when we learn how to love our neighbors. We must move for love in all of our interactions. Love cannot be compartmentalized if we are to truly live. I'm not sure we can fully lively without suffering.
However, I do feel caution to say that each of our paths to follow Jesus are a little different. I think this is a true statement, but I also think it gives too much leeway. Personally, I use it sometimes as a rationalization that I am doing all that I can right now, but I think I can do more. I am too comfortable materially for that to be true and I am to uncomfortable spiritually for that to be true. Our paths are distinct, but there is a common challenge that confronts us, suffering that awaits us, and grace that sustains us.
We had a community book club meeting tonight to discuss Part I of The Nonviolent Cross. After discussing it, I thought it would have been nice if I actually got the chance to read it. We talked a lot about suffering and crucification, what's that mean? What does it mean theologically? What does it mean socially? What does it imply in the way in which we choose to live our lives. For the sake of not going on and on in my endless thoughts, I'll share the one discussion we had about the book that struck me the most.
The book relates Gandhi and Christianity in the context of nonviolence (which will be clarified to me even more after actually reading the book). In his discussion of Gandhi, Douglass cites Gandhi's fast for peace which nearly ended his life. I've watched the Gandhi movie, so I had the visual of him nearly dead lying on a cot on a second floor terrace from which he can hear the rioting that continues to corrupt his country. Many people come to him who care deeply about him begging him to eat. How can he just die when India needs him so badly? How much will his voluntary death heal the divide? Is it not remotely careless of him to die when he can do so much good in life? I remember that as I watched the movie about 2 years ago, I did not quite get it. I got that his hunger strike was to encourage peace because people loved him so much they might stop fighting for a while to keep him alive. However, I did not get the deeper meaning. I did not understand that by suffering until death if necessary was Gandhi's way of exposing the biases of humans, the lack of love we give to the marginalized, the humanity we strip from each other and the other. What if we really embraced our humanity? What if we challenged ourselves to love even if it means really suffering because we are convicted of its truth? What if we all came to the poor, the suffering (from an oppressor or other things in life), the hungry, the sick, the marginalized, the rejected, and even the oppressors and begged them to live because we are there to help them because we believe their life is one worth living because we cannot stand the idea of their senseless death?
I think that is the point Gandhi makes.
The question always comes back around to how does this apply to my life? I do not think a nonviolent path of suffering for others seeking out suffering because it seems in the context of our times it will come when we learn how to love our neighbors. We must move for love in all of our interactions. Love cannot be compartmentalized if we are to truly live. I'm not sure we can fully lively without suffering.
However, I do feel caution to say that each of our paths to follow Jesus are a little different. I think this is a true statement, but I also think it gives too much leeway. Personally, I use it sometimes as a rationalization that I am doing all that I can right now, but I think I can do more. I am too comfortable materially for that to be true and I am to uncomfortable spiritually for that to be true. Our paths are distinct, but there is a common challenge that confronts us, suffering that awaits us, and grace that sustains us.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Loyola and the MLK Jr. Celebration
I know I'm no longer in India, so the title of this blog is relatively moot, but meri pyari hindustan hai to (my love is India so) why not continue making some entries?
Today Loyola Student Diversity hosted Judge Mathis, the guy with the show on the WB. I've never been a big fan of judge TV shows, but I'm officially a Judge Mathis fan. As he pointed out at the beginning of his talk Loyola provided quite a diverse crowd, which is good to see as oftentimes I go to campus events sponsored by or maybe geared towards a more specific background, but open to all and I find myself to be the odd one out; that was certainly not the case tonight.
Judge Mathis was invited to Loyola to give a speech to commemorate the life and works of Dr. King. He gave a powerful and humorous message that focused on doing our part, taking our own despite the social or pyschological barriers we may face because of our background or life experiences or maybe just general self doubt. Proposing Dr. King and President Johnson were not the only primary actors in the Civil Rights Movement, he twisted a common expression and asserted that "Leaders are not made, they are born." Then, he paused, pointed out that we must be a bit confused and explained his stance, "Out of the yearning for justice of the people, leaders a born. Out of the cry for justice of the people, leaders are born." He went on to emphasize that the masses rather than the few affect progress and they are how Dr. King and President Johnson were in a position to step up and succeed. He spoke of fear to step out and compete. He told us of his struggle to get his law liscense after getting a law degree and passing the bar because he had offenses on put on his record at the age of 14. Injustice. However, in the face of adversity, he used the mistakes of his past to empower the future and I do believe that's what he did by spending this evening at Loyola. I was refreshed by hearing his inspiring words and the call to action for our generation, one that may not be dealing with quite as blatant injustice, but perhaps that is what makes it a struggle. We have to get over ourselves, over the fact that maybe it seems like a passion for change would have been more useful in the 1960s and recognize the opportunities of creating a more just world today.
Today Loyola Student Diversity hosted Judge Mathis, the guy with the show on the WB. I've never been a big fan of judge TV shows, but I'm officially a Judge Mathis fan. As he pointed out at the beginning of his talk Loyola provided quite a diverse crowd, which is good to see as oftentimes I go to campus events sponsored by or maybe geared towards a more specific background, but open to all and I find myself to be the odd one out; that was certainly not the case tonight.
Judge Mathis was invited to Loyola to give a speech to commemorate the life and works of Dr. King. He gave a powerful and humorous message that focused on doing our part, taking our own despite the social or pyschological barriers we may face because of our background or life experiences or maybe just general self doubt. Proposing Dr. King and President Johnson were not the only primary actors in the Civil Rights Movement, he twisted a common expression and asserted that "Leaders are not made, they are born." Then, he paused, pointed out that we must be a bit confused and explained his stance, "Out of the yearning for justice of the people, leaders a born. Out of the cry for justice of the people, leaders are born." He went on to emphasize that the masses rather than the few affect progress and they are how Dr. King and President Johnson were in a position to step up and succeed. He spoke of fear to step out and compete. He told us of his struggle to get his law liscense after getting a law degree and passing the bar because he had offenses on put on his record at the age of 14. Injustice. However, in the face of adversity, he used the mistakes of his past to empower the future and I do believe that's what he did by spending this evening at Loyola. I was refreshed by hearing his inspiring words and the call to action for our generation, one that may not be dealing with quite as blatant injustice, but perhaps that is what makes it a struggle. We have to get over ourselves, over the fact that maybe it seems like a passion for change would have been more useful in the 1960s and recognize the opportunities of creating a more just world today.
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