Reflection from a Theology Grad Student: I Lost My Heart In Boston
One of the delights of being a teacher at SLU is that, having once been introduced to students in the Social Justice class, I often am able to keep in touch with them, as they go forward into the world, whether they go to England to study at the London School of Economics, or go to Palestine to work with the International Solidarity Movement, or fight it out in Washington on Capitol Hill as a lobbyist with the Quakers, or continue with education at Michigan Law School, Johns Hopkins School of Public Health, or SLU Medical School.
Megan James studied with me in the spring of 2003. She’s now at Weston Jesuit School of Theology in Cambridge, Massachusetts, where Mev got her MTS, and where I lived for a year or so. Megan’s always a pleasure to be with for a long chat at Coffee Cartel. She recently sent me a reflection from her blog, which I post below, as it deals with writing and theology and Natalie Goldberg and candor and putting it out there.
I Lost My Heart In Boston
Megan James
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Feeling a mix of frustrated and inspired tonight and in honor of Mark always trying to get me to share my journaling:
Meeting with Mark tonight, so I thought I should get some writing done. He wants to know my thoughts… what thoughts? I don’t know what I think… I’m scared to think and I’m scared to feel. And I’m even more scared, Natalie Goldberg, to write down my bones. Terrified of what will come out. Frightened that I won’t be perfect, that someone will find a flaw. It is like I’m 12 again… not comfortable in my own skin; every moment it tightens around me and feels all wrong. What happened to me? I used to be so strong, so confident. I used to pack such sass. I am broken. I walk around feeling like a doormat and overwhelmingly sad. So unsure of myself. And so tired.
I hate theology. Yes, right now I hate theology. Apparently I can’t think about God with my heart. No it is all philosophy. And it doesn’t move me. The name dropping, the “right” and “wrong” perspectives and readings, the intense debates, the “big words” that make us feel smart because we can talk past the average person (quit flashing your feathers… no one is impressed. You make think a lot but you do nothing, at thought without action is worthless)– it all makes me sick. No I don’t find God in this.
And we all talk of the poor as we shuffle past them in the subways and on the streets. But we feel good about ourselves because we are filled with ideas of a larger cause, of living in the Third World countries in solidarity, and we tell ourselves it is where we stand at the end of the day. I lost my heart in Boston. I have become this, and it isn’t me. This isn’t me.
And what the fuck does “solidarity” mean? We go feed the natives and teach them to read and feel good about ourselves? We will never be “poor,” not economically. We will never be poor because we are educated. (Sorry Gustavo, you aren’t poor.) So what is a different term then? What can I call it? A “hand-up”? Even that sounds demeaning. But I don’t know that solidarity can be expressed by people in the First World with the Third World. Nor can I be in solidarity with the poor in the First World if I fail to notice them on my evening commute home. And I can’t fool and lie to myself anymore with the “it is where I stand at the end of the day” bullshit. It no longer gives me comfort. I am an oppressor, and I will be an oppressor so long as I live in the US or any other developed country. You can’t get around it here. But I am supposed to feel okay about it because the sweatshops are better than the failed rural farming. True there’s a progression to development, but there’s also so much exploitation. I want to save others from this, but it seems like a futile effort. And why do these rural farmers fail? Big business and the West? Well, that’s likely part of it… a large part. Sure people develop, cultures change, that’s natural, but the poverty that exists worldwide is anything but natural. So now what do I do? Go feed the natives, teach them to read, and feel better about myself?
So what do I do? I will propose this question again to Mark. I told him I was thinking about an MSW or a Psy.D. I can’t do academic theology forever. I hope all this provides me with a good moral foundation and perhaps some work in teaching social justice. Mark suggested the Psy.D. because the initials may make people take me more seriously if I decide to publish (I am sure this isn’t his only reason, but something to think about). But should this be one big paper chase? Unfortunately, he may be right. I always wonder about freedom. To be honest, I want my life to be a bridge berween the First and Third Worlds. I’d like to work for a NGO similar to PIH (as I have always had an interest in medicine) and also work with immigrants and refugees here. I want to do it all. (Yeah, I know this doesn’t move me out of oppressor, but I am working on the that answer… I’ll get to it eventually.) I hate this uncertainty, and I hate being frustrated all the time. Maybe I should throw it all away and just live what makes me happy.