In the Face of Danger

I am going to make a bold proposition in this posting. For many of the current members of the Iredell community, this will come as little shock, and perhaps even muster a bit of laughter. My proposition is this: Sweeping the floor is a political action. Now, as one who has been subsumed in the universe of Duke Divinity School, I am well aware that the word “political” brings with it a lot of baggage. Further still, for anyone who has ever spent time in intentional community, daily chores are absolutely critical to the formation of healthy lives so as not to result in mutually assured devastation. Ah, but what happens when one does not sweep the floor? Or, perhaps even more profoundly, what happens when one does sweep the floor?

It seems somewhat trivial, but recently I overheard a discussion about certain students who were roommates. One of these students shared that they had made a breakthrough when, after realizing that each person in their apartment was buying their own jar of mayonnaise, they decided to start buying one jar of mayonnaise for all to share. This just sounds like good community. However, I propose that the more profound situation would have been when each person in the apartment decided to pool their money for groceries and still opted to buy three jars of mayonnaise because one person needed low fat, while another person needed Helmen's, and the third could only stand the taste of Miracle Whip. This is a more profound situation, in my opinion, not because it is the most economical or practical, but because the action of debating and discerning how the community can best engage life is in itself a political endeavor.

We have similar conditions at the Iredell House, not just with food. I recall the house retreat when we spent (what seemed to me to be) nearly an hour discussing the division of chores. The fact is, some members of the house simply did not want to do the grocery shopping. Nearly everyone had a preference for what chore they wanted, but no one really wanted to do the shopping. How did we get out of this precarious predicament? Well, I don’t remember exactly, but I know it wasn’t by divine intervention or through some great revelation that convicted us all of what we were to do. No, it just happened. We talked. We went around the table again and again. We discussed. We compromised. We found consensus.

So, I haven’t swept the floor this week. It needs it, but I haven’t done it. For whatever reason, the floor has remained defiled by our disgusting selves. This, too, is a political action. It compromises the shared mind. It attacks the community at its base. “I challenge the community’s decision that the floor ought to be swept.” New conversations have to be had. “Why hasn’t Barry swept the floor,” they might say to one another? One may think that a mundane task like sweeping the floor is nothing to get too up in arms about, but I submit that whoever believes that never really had to live with anyone with much conviction in life. Alas, I will sweep the floor. It is my duty as a red-blooded Iredellian. After all, there is no “I” in Iredell.

The Tears of Baptism

I wonder if Paul was ever frustrated with his work. Surely there were days when he wanted to throw up his hands and admit defeat. Not that I am ready to admit defeat, but there are days that I wonder if our labors are in vain – that the culture is too strong, the brokenness too severe, the goals too grand. Here in Stillwater, we operate a summer program called Camp Exploration. It is a day camp for at-risk children aged K-5 grade. For eight weeks we have 25-30 children (depending on which parents/guardians decide to drop their kids off that day) Monday through Thursday, all day long with 12 college students. It is an interactive experience where children learn about healthy environments and relationships. These are kids who are simply not making it in life. Our goal is to give them a chance, an opportunity to survive in their broken families and the disordered cultures around them. It’s long, hard work. Our student workers end every day absolutely exhausted. Since I have my own projects during the summer, I serve only as support leadership staff, stepping in when I’m needed and stepping out when I’m not. But just having kids running by my office all day is stressful. Today, Markia and “Little Rock” got into a fight. I’m not sure what it was about, but they had to sit out for an hour in the lobby next to my office. Maybe there’s nothing worse than having to sit quietly while other kids are in the other room screaming their heads off playing. But, I keep asking myself, “Are we doing any good with these children?” For the fifth time in three weeks Adam was back in the Director’s office attacking other kids. For the third time in two weeks, Markia had to sit out for fighting. Last week, we had four kids get into a fight hurling racial slurs at each other. How do you have a conversation on race with 8 year-olds? We’ve had countless events of certain kids breaking down in tearful fits of rage because of something insignificant. We are in Week 4 of Camp Exploration, and I’m not seeing results yet. I know, I know. Our job is to plant seeds. Someone else will water, and still someone else will care for and harvest. I don’t doubt Paul’s words, but I wonder if he had to work with such messed up kids? Lessons of hope come in varied forms. Have you ever watched a 6 year-old try to do yoga? It’s fascinating to behold. Who knew that a child with a dead-beat dad and a mother in prison for drugs could laugh and play like that. Michael offered a sermon a while back addressing the need to keep hope in the midst of the struggle. Here is an excerpt from that sermon.

"It seems that the Church, both in its conservative forms and its liberal forms, has forgotten that the primary means of relationship is baptismal and not biological. In random conversations with children involved in our program, I have found that very few have any contact with the Church, and nearly all of them are clueless if they are baptized or why this should have any significance. Does this legitimize their wholesale abandonment? A college student recently asked, “Do I have to be religious to be a mentor in your program?” I smiled and said, “I hope you have given up on religion. Religion will get you only as far as your diploma allows. I want you to be faithful.” Therefore, my next question to this student was, “So are you baptized?” We need people who are brave enough to look beyond the sanctuary and see the new birth found in the tears of abandoned children. We need students who want to walk with Christ as opposed to talk about Christ. We are learning from students that the water of baptism should be collected from the tears of those that we have forgotten. The mentors become visible/tangible role models. One of the children recently asked me, “How much to the mentors get paid?” When I told her that the mentors were paid nothing she exclaimed, “You mean they just like us?” I laughed and said, “I think it’s more than ‘like’. I think they really care about you.” The silence that followed from my young inquirer, possibly bewilderment that someone actually cared, was as holy as the silence that follows the empty sanctuary after tenebrae. Renewing our baptismal covenant is related to redressing the churches commitment to the poor. Collecting the water from the tears of children in crisis is a unique gift that we believe the Church is called to embody. Baptism, after all, is not a gift of being selected and placed inside a barricade! Baptism is the gift of liberation that allows us to walk into the world with confidence that even in the midst of our dire condition, the care and love of God through His people can redeem despair into hope."

So we labor on. I continue to pray, too, as I found in the psalter last night, “O Lord, how long?” I think we have to pray that, remembering that God will work wonders far greater than we can imagine in our limited space. So, to my Iredell brethren and sestren (like that?), what great thing can God accomplish in us in light of the baptisms through which we were gathered as the Church? Maybe our own baptismal waters were gathered from the tears of our Lord who weeps for the lost and broken. How then do we labor?

Liz's visit to UMC

Resurrection happens - a more sober Cowboy, a housed Peanut, Wanda's son's acceptance to a magnet school, Rex Wickline, as it turns out, wasn't hit by a train two years ago, but was in a recovery program in Alabama. The long prayed prayers are sometimes answered.

I spent nearly a week at the Urban Ministry Center - a place which in the midst of gaping needs, always puts me more in touch with my own needs, more than my ability to sate anyone else's. With no job responsibilities, I have been living in the land of stories. Taking time for the sweetest parts of life, I walked to the Center each day (about 3 miles), stopping to talk to folks along the way, sitting down to take in sunlight and conversations, walking with someone to the nearest pay phone instead of giving directions, and speaking lots of spanish (gracias a Jorge para mucho practicar).

By far the sweetest part of the visit, however, was soccer. The UMC Soccer team, which will be traveling to Scotland in July (check out the website: www.homelesssoccer.org) to represent the U.S. in the Homeless World Cup, is a community, however dysfunctional it might be. Of the eleven players, two have histronic personality disorders (prone to great drama fro those non-DSM IV users); three can't currently compete because they are in drug treatments programs, one (who worked with me on my attempts to one day do a pull-up) insists on dancing throughout all the warm-up drills, most are learning soccer for the first time, and all players smoke. Imagine taking all the kids who had a difficult time getting along with others in school and put them on a team and competed them against yuppie young adults, primarily who played soccer in high school and perhaps college (reminds me a bit of Bottle Rocket). Yes, a recipe for disaster, and the potentional for some amazing moments of redemption. Breaking across race, ethnic, class and gender lines, this group is really contemplating what it means to be a team. Having each other's back is not a new concept on the street (nor in Rex Kwan-Do), but the notion of calling forth the best in one another, this is one that does not come easily within a population who finds its solace in mutual failure. I was speaking with a volunteer yesterday whose partner is a recovering addict (who at times is not so recovered). She spoke of the difficulties of loving him, but the joys of being with someone who is up for battling the demons of life. It is this sense of courage which makes the soccer team such an amazing group (community, really). To claim our own shame and push through - what a gift in life.

My prayers are with you guys and I look forward to hearing updates.

Jana's Wedding

Well, it's official. Jana and Joel are married! The week preceding the wedding was a little crazy. Jana and Joel both graduated with their doctorates last weekend, and their families were out for that. Jana's parents and sister stuck around all week. We had a lot of fun, including a very fine afternoon tea party at the Wa-Duke on Tuesday (Jana's mom and sister, Jana, Joel, and me). It was great. On Wednesday, Joel and I played golf (also at the Wa-Duke, actually). It was a nice chance for me to give him a little advice on what it takes to handle living with Jana over the long haul. Also, on the 18th hole, I chipped the ball right into the cup from about 5-7 feet off the green. The bachelorette party was wild and crazy, with plenty of drinking, a little poker, a little talk about sex, and chocolate cake. The bachelor party began with a co-ed viewing of Star Wars Episode III, then the men went out for drinks. Clearly, I can't say any more.

Jana was amazingly calm beginning sometime Friday afternoon. Joel, however, was stressed far beyond belief. It was actually quite cute. He was really afraid he would do something stupid and mess up the day for Jana. The ceremony was beautiful. The bride was gorgeous, the couple was happy. The tea party reception was all about Jana. That is, it was so perfect. The tea was great, the food was great, the music was great (Irish! a guitar and a fiddle). We even got a picture of all the Iredell folks (alums etc) who were there (and who stayed that long!).

Jana and Joel seem happier than ever. They're off to Denver for a bit, then Europe. I'm relieved that the Iredell Bed and Breakfast is (at least temporarily) closed. The place is a lot quieter, and for now, I'm glad.

Year-end Reflections

Well, May has once again come upon us here at Iredell House, and most of us are dispersed or dispersing to the four winds. Divinity students are off to their field education placements. Liz, our public policy guru, is off to spend a bit of time with family and friends before her summer internship starts, and Jana is in the final flurry of preparations for her wedding (May 21). Barry and Joey left Wednesday. Clifton and Kent left Saturday. The comings and goings here are part of life, but they don't get any easier. The questions of how to be in relationship change and shift as the geography changes. What it means when we share the space is one thing; what it means when we don't is another.

So, what does it mean to be in relationship with one another as these things shift and change? I've been thinking a lot lately about relationships in general and how they ebb and flow over time, how things which seem like mountains at one point later turn out to be molehills, and vice versa, of course. For some reason, I've lately been thinking about two things in particular, and they're last year things, but I think relevant to us as well.

First, I recall that about this time last year, I sat down with a friend of mine and gave -- for the first time -- a sort of blow-by-blow account of life in Iredell last year. I described some of our bad beginnings and proceeded to say, "And I think that's the point at which being a real Christian community became impossible for us." He called me out on thinking that way, because, of course, change, repentance, forgiveness -- it's all always possible, especially with God's grace.

Second, I think about what for me is one of the most powerful instances of that: my relationship with Jana. Like so many of the relationships in the community last year, ours was strained and marked by a lot of distance and silence. And then one day, for no real immediately apparent reason except the sense that the community was falling apart (maybe she can remind me of something), and clearly with the help of God's grace, we closed the gap. It was amazing. And it happened as we were sitting around the kitchen table.

I guess I'm thinking all this because I'm feeling the distance. Some of it is as simple as geography, and as missing out on good-byes to Liz and Joey before they left. Some of it is the distance we've talked about from this spring, the ways in which so many of us were pulled in different directions. Much of it is me, my own distractions and choices, diving into other relationships, sometimes at the expense of those in the house, though for the most part not consciously so. I'm not saying that our distance is the distance of last year; nothing about it seems so oppressive or silent. And distance and silence aren't bad things, always. Sometimes they give you a certain sort of "breathing room," time to reassess, readjust, re-commit if need be.

I wonder what, for each of us, the space and changes of the summer will bring. How will we use this time to grow, both personally and collectively? And I wonder, in these liminal times, what new hopes and dreams for our community will spring up, what new needs we might see, or what old ones we might find the courage to name. More the questions I'm sitting with, so far, than any real answers. Any thoughts?

Welcome!

Iredell House techno-babble has just been upped to a whole new level. In conversations with a couple of housemates, we've talked about ways to keep communication lines open throughout the summer, and perhaps also to create a space for us to share some reflections about our life in community. Kent's friend Caleb has just helped us set up this blog, as an experiment in perhaps creating such a space. Let's give it a try, shall we?