My mind has been running all weekend. My Friday ended in a meeting with a single mom who is currently living in a shelter. She has three girls and left her abusive husband nearly a year ago. The court proceedings are just now on their way and the custody hearing was a week ago. Thanks to the wonderful judicial system of California (a no-fault state) this father who has both physically and sexually abused his children will get joint custody. The children are terrified and all I could do through the course of my meeting with this woman was fight back my own tears as she disclosed the information leading to the deterioration and dissolution of her marriage.

I am slightly comforted by some words I read of Nouwen's this weekend who said, "The mission of Jesus was not to wipe out all human sorrow and take away all human pain, but to enter so fully into our world of sorrow and pain that nothing human would remain alien." Jesus did not come with the intent of being the magic genie who would do away with all injustice--that is what we are to look forward to, but in the midst of pain and suffering the kingdom of God can still be present, moving, and real. I have the tendency to want to solve every problem that I come into contact with, yet that is not what we are called to do, we are called to be present and in community with those who are suffering.

Perhaps a highlight during my weekend was a conversation I had with one of the residents of a homeless shelter I work at. He is an 18 year old immigrant from Chiapas. I was quietly reading outside when he came and sat down next to me and asked me to read a poem he had written. It was about jealousy and how that ruins relationships between men and women. He told me he felt it was a disease within the machista/Latino community. He had witnessed his father abuse his mother because of his own unfounded jealousy. This young man had also seen and experienced domestic violence with several other family members and friends told me that he didn't want to fall into that trap. He believed in communication between involved parties. He said that was something he never witnessed growing up or with friends. Though he has never experienced good communication between people it is something he is so desperately seeking to learn.

Since I met this kid I have been impressed by both his integrity and his tender heartedness. These boys that I have the privilege to work with never cease to amaze me by how "together" they are in spite of their backgrounds.

I had my second Spanish session today. I am taking lessons from an older Guatemalan Gentleman who I'll call Josue. We had a wonderful time walking around outdoors through various trails. Green space is a rarity in Los Angeles and I always appreciate when I take advantage of what few parks we have. (Perhaps it is the fresh air at the higher elevations and the vistas that overlook the smog enclosed city I am most grateful for).

Josue moved to L.A. from New York City a few months ago to take care of his aging mother who has been diagnosed with cancer. He spoke about his life in NY longingly but quickly added that he was happy to have the freedom to care for his mom. The other alternative was putting her in a home which he said he did not have the heart to do. It is a moving and convicting experience to see an individual completely disrupt their life for the sake of another. Maybe disrupt is the wrong word because I don't think that is how my teacher would look at it. The family unit in Latino culture is something magical. There is such a sense of interdependence on every member. It is not a perfect system, but then neither is the Anglo American idea of independence. I say that tongue and cheek as my husband would be quick to testify that I make manyjudgmentss about the Latino concept of family. While I admire it, I also criticize it. I think it stems from my fear of one day having 20 relatives move in with us and have that be "very normal." Anyway.....

Though this was only my second meeting with Josue I feel like we can talk like old friends. He calls me hermanita yet he is old enough to be my father. Today we talked about many things including--the recent elections in El Salvador, Greek mythology, Richard Clark, his children, animals, marijuana, and how we like our plantains cooked to name a few. Josue has a love for language and loves studying the origin of words. I got a little annoyed when he kept making me look up every word I didn't understand in a dictionary instead of him just telling me. I suppose that is the better way to learn. Our lesson which was supposed to last 90 minutes went on for three hours. We really enjoyed our time and I'm looking forward to next week. Josue tells me I'll be fluent in three months. I'm not so sure of that.

He wrote down this Hindu saying for me and asked that I think about it. Here it is:

I am what my deep driving desire is,
As my desire is, so is my will,
As my will is, so is my deed,
As my deed is, so is my destiny.

In the midst of the sea of commentaries following the release of Mel Gibson’s Passion of Christ movie, I have my bit to add. This comes after processing the movie over the past month since I saw it.

Perhaps the most striking aspect of Jesus’ actions portrayed in the movie was how he responded to the individuals who were physically torturing him and verbally accusing him. Jesus did not respond to the allegations with longwinded defenses. He superseded the natural human response which is to defend ones’ self. Jesus’ inaction, his giving up his right to vindication, spoke more than any human defense could have. Jesus had the faith in God to trust that only God could penetrate the hearts of his perpetrators towards change.

I am reminded of the movie The Mission which stars Robert De Niro as Rodrigo Mendoza, a former mercenary in the process of converting to the Jesuit order and Jeremy Irons as a Jesuit Priest who moved into the Brazilian rainforest to bring the Gospel to the Guarani people. As the Spanish and Portuguese attempt to take over the land inhabited by the indigenous people, Irons and De Niro are divided in their ideas about fighting the occupation and usurpation of the land. De Niro, the former soldier, reverts back to taking up arms and fighting the European armies in conventional combat. Irons, unable to justify the killing of another human being, even the enemy, chooses not to fight back. Both men are killed--De Niro during the course of fighting with the enemy, and Irons while peacefully walking through the village, having just concluded mass, with natives following him. One man took the path natural to the human condition and fought to protect his people, his land—what was rightfully the community’s. The other man gave up his right physically to defend what was fairly the Guarani’s land. Irons rose to the higher level and did not take part in the combat. He took the path that others have taken—Archbishop Romero, Gandhi, MLK, Cesar Chavez….Jesus.

Is either defense greater than the other? Is one more life changing? Is one more impacting to the perpetrator?…………………….

Once there was a people that surveyed the resources of the world, and they said to each other, "How can we be sure that we will have enough in hard times? We want to survive whatever happens. Let us start collecting food, materials, and knowledge so that we are safe and secure when a crisis occurs." So they started hoarding and hoarding, so much that other people protested and said, "Hey, you have much more than you need, while we don't have enough to survive. Give us part of your wealth."

But the fearful hoarders said, "No, no, no, we need to keep this in case of emergencies, in case things go bad for us too, in case our lives are threatened."

Time passed, and then the others said, "We are dying now. Please give us food and materials and knowledge to survive. We can't wait. We need it now."

And then the fearful hoarders became even more fearful, because they were afraid that the poor and hungry would attack them. So they said to one another, "Let us build walls around our wealth so that no stranger can take it away from us." And thus they started erecting walls so high that they could not see any more whether there were enemies outside or not. And as their fear increased they told eath other, "Our enemies have become so numerouse that they may be able to tear down our walls. Our walls are not strong enough to keep them away. We need to put bombs on top of the walls so that nobody will dare to even come close to us."

But instead of feeling safe and secure behind their armed walls, they found themselves trapped in the prison they had build with their own fear. They even became afraid of their own bombs, wondering if they might harm themselves more than their enemy. And gradually they realized that their fear of death had brought them closer to it.

This is excerpted from Henri Nouwen's book, The Road to Peace
(Read a review of the book here)

A blog set up—the gift from my big brother and sister in law for Christmas. It has taken me 3 months to get rolling.

There is much going through my head currently. I suppose I shall begin mid-thought.

I attended a massive peace march this past Saturday to commemorate the one year anniversary of the U.S. invading Iraq. I always have mixed emotions when I attend events such as this one. On the one hand I appreciate and am moved by all the energy, on the other hand I always come away with an unsettled spirit. Perhaps an example will help illustrate. My husband and I arrived late to the march. We were getting there in time to join in at the very end of the mass of people. There was a small group of individuals (I’d guess around 30) with pro-Bush, pro-Israel, and pro-Iraqi war signs who tried to join in at the end of the march in order to represent ‘the other side.’ They were not warmly received. Granted when you’re brave enough to come in front of anywhere from 5,000-20,000 people (I can’t even find a legitimate estimate of the numbers who showed up…), you’re bound to encounter some hostility—which is still not justifiable. This is where my frustration with the peace movement arises.

People against the war began shouting at the pro-war group and thus the back and forth banter started. I had to cover my step son’s ears at one point because it was not appropriate for him to hear the words being said. And what impression will he now have of the alleged Peace Movement when he witnesses so much unrest?

I am anti-war. I don’t care for the president’s foreign policies. But I don’t harbor a deep resentment for him as the human being that bares the image of God. I see him as a man in process just like the rest of us who needs to be redeemed. Will he be accountable for his actions? Yes. Will his actions as leader of our nation be called into account? Yes. Do I think the solution to this administration is to march through the streets of America with signs that say “Fuck Bush” ? No. Where does that get us? Nowhere.

The anger behind the anti-war groups seems just as deplorable as the act of war itself. Where is the spirit of reconciliation, forgiveness, and love?

It was interesting to have my 5 year old with us during the march. He had many questions, especially upon seeing the swarms of police decked out in riot gear. Some of his questions were: Why do they carry those big long sticks? And, Why do they have guns? We’ve tried to instill in him that the police are good, yet he couldn’t wrap his head around why they had guns which are bad. I suppose this is the first of many contradictions he will face in life.