January, 2007

Liz took Social Justice in the fall of 2006 and had the following thoughts about some passages from The Book of Mev.

1. “Seeing the World/2”, p.57

“The definition of ‘mystical’ aptly describes my experience of photography: spiritually significant or symbolic, based on intuition, contemplation, or meditation; mysterious enigmatic. Often in picture-taking, intuition mysteriously overpowers my other senses…taking and viewing pictures are opportunities to engage, step back, and reflect on the facets of our world. The photographic image is evocative, dynamic, fluid-always unfinished.”

I relate to the photography aspect of Mev’s life. I love to take pictures- although it’s something I have only recently discovered about myself. In Europe there were just so many beautiful things, I couldn’t stop myself from capturing it all. I feel that if I had been introduced to it earlier, I would have wanted to be a photojournalist. But now, it’s only a hobby. I love the passion in Mev’s words at this point of the book. I can feel her enthusiasm, curiosity, wonderment at the art of photography. And these are all emotions that I feel when taking pictures myself. But also, I feel these when I look at Mev’s pictures. Enthusiasm because they make me want to invest more in photography. Curiosity of what Mev felt when she took the picture and why she chose that subject. Wonderment at the skill of the picture, at the social commentary captured in it. Mev makes a statement in every picture and what I love is that you are free to wonder at what she wanted to say. You many find something she didn’t intend but it was there all the same. Like all art, photography evokes different reactions in different people. Mev’s photos seem to evoke strong reactions in everyone because her passion is felt through her work.

2. “Love Letter/1”, p. 48

“I love you, Mark. I don’t always feel like saying that. I don’t always “feel” that. But t is true for me to write it right now. You are a beautiful human being. You, too, give me cause for reverence, awe, gratitude, silence. I look forward with patience to being with you more…Odd, Mark, I don’t feel swept away..whatever it is I wonder if you sense it and if it hurts you. While it is a curious thing for me, it is also inexplicably healthy.”

I love this whole love letter to Mark. How honest Mev is. I have felt the same feelings about others, but I have never expressed them for fear of hurting them with my doubts. But Mev looks on this as healthy. Sometimes for me it is a torrent of rushing, happy, passion-filled feelings. Sometimes it is great doubt and a look back to previous relationships and an imagining of future relationships. Sometimes it is a fear of committing myself, of hurting others, of them hurting me. Mev is honest about these feelings. Sometimes it is one way or another. But what I get from this love letter is that it is important to say I love you. And it’s okay to be uncertain or cramped or scared and admit it other times. How honest. And how wise.

3. “Peril”, p.245

“I belong to Chomsky”.

The sentence that discovered Mev’s malignant brain tumor. The irony that Mark found out when his hero Noam Chomsky was visiting. The fear. The uncertainty. The craziness. The confusion. The oddness. I think of all of this is in that sentence Mev uttered again and again and again. It all happened so very fast. The very next day after the ophthalmologist appointment. Then the neurologist. The lesions. The shaved head. The deblocking surgery. 6-9 months. Radiation and Mevatron. I really can only think of this in fragments, photo stills. How fast can life change- in one day, in one sentence.

4. “Facing the Facts/4”, p. 303

“Hardly had we finished this when a neighbor came over. She sat down on the floor and was happy as usual to be there. Mark asked me to repeat what I had just told him. Mev agreed. When I did so, the neighbor was shocked and said, “Marian, you can’t expect us all to be ready at this point. A lot of us aren’t ready to let Mev go.” I glanced at Mev and spoke for her saying, “It is Mev’s life we are talking about. It is unfair to ask her to wait until everyone is ready to let her go. We are the ones who need to make our adjustment, not Mev.”
I think that to accept someone’s death, or that someone is going to die, is a gift. To have that attitude of acceptance is a rare and peaceful thing. I have never been in such a situation, but my mother faces death on a daily basis among her patients. She used this experience when Kathy, a very old, close friend, died on cancer. Mom was in California with dad on a special, marriage-renewing trip when it happened. She didn’t make it home for the funeral. She had a hard time deciding, but eventually she believed she has made the right decision and she had Kathy’s blessing. Mom was there for all of Kathy’s friends as executor of the will and as a source of advice and comfort. She told me that you have to let people go. To make them hold on, to make them experience your own pain at the loss of them, is selfish. Death is not about us. What we will lose. It is about what those who are dying will gain.

5. “Community/5”, p.322

“I was on the lookout for pallbearers. It had occurred to me to ask eight women to assume this traditionally strong male role…they all humbly and kindly welcomed this as a privilege. But it was each of them who has graced Mev and me in one way or another”.

What a way to make a Mev-like statement, even at her funeral. I like that women were chosen to carry the casket. It makes me think of my own funeral- not in a morbid way, just curious. Who would carry my casket? Probably by best guy friends from HS- Ryan, Tyler, Vaughn, Luke, Pete, Charlie. Mark? My brother? Joe? I do know that “On Angel’s Wings” would have to be played. It would make Mom bawl. Definitely at St. Stephen’s. I love that church. I would want that recollection things that happens at wakes. Funny stories. I would most certainly want a collage like Mev. Would it be crowded? Maybe an itunes mix of the soundtrack of my life.

I can’t imagine knowing that I was dying and planning a funeral. I would definitely want to attend, if possible, to see who would be there and what people would say. Strange to think of your own funeral and your own mortality. Something we don’t do much in our society. Scares me a little.

6. “Accompaniment/6”
“She kindly helped me lose some of my vast ignorance and inexperience: she instructed me in answering the phone (“Are there this many homeless people in St. Louis?”), getting guests their medicines (“What’s this drug for?”), giving out sandwiches to the men and women in the neighborhood…(“You don’t like bologna? You’re a Black Muslim? Ok, peanut butter and jelly it is.”), playing with the kids (“Sure I’ll pick you up”), breaking up scuffles (“You bitches have someone to look after you, what about me?), accepting donations (“thanks for the sweaters” in may), making sure the guests do their chores, (“Um, you think you’ll get to sweeping the floors today?”), and simply listening to takes of triumph and woe.”

This is a perfect portrayal of Karen house. There are always so many things going on all at the same time. I can’t imagine living there. When I come home from Karen house, there is this feeling of just leaving a raging storm. There is something about it that is both depressing and uplifting; something that makes me cheerful and despondent. I leave there upset sometimes, frustrated others, laughing at times, and usually sticky. I love the children, even though they drive me crazy. What makes me sad is when I am with them around other young children and the benefits of a stable home and money and better education are readily apparent. But there is no gap between them and me or them and others. We are all the same. And when I can remember this, when I can open my head to the lessons that I can learn from the mothers and the children, that’s when I leave happy, thoughtful, reflective. What else can I do to make things better for them? What else can I do to make things better in the world in general? If one little, slightly run down, roach and rat invested, old house can make such a difference- well, there’s a world of possibilities out there.

Nina Lotfi

I enjoyed reading Mev’s journal entries immensely. They helped me connect and get to know her. It was a secret glimpse to the intimate thoughts of a stranger.

Facing The Facts/2 a reflection from Mev spoke volumes to me. When I read this chapter, my eyes were filled with tears and my throat filled heavy. Death does not always allow us time to reflect, to battle or make peace with its expected arrival. The humanness of her experience, the volatility of her emotions, they all made me feel her sadness and her pain in leaving the life that she lived so well. Her realization that death will not be easy; that letting go of people, things and actions she love will not be easy. She imagining those she loved moving on with out her, yet worrying about how they will do with out her.

Facing The Facts/3 (Letting Go) was another chapter that hit home. It summarized Mark’s struggle with accepting life with out her and even worse watching his Mev become not even a shadow of the energetic and enthusiastic achiever that she had been. These are sections through out the second half of the book that paint a picture of his struggle,
frustration and the feelings of powerlessness. He knows he must be strong for her and for the others, yet he is being emotionally drained and tortured by the process of her death. After all it is his Mev that is losing her hair, her words, her mobility, her chance to change the world.

Mark and Mev’s letters and the list of nicknames names reminded me of the universality of love. No matter how one spends his/her life, those symbolic gestures of being in love are shared by many. Genuine love is so powerful; it enables us in so many ways. Mev encouraged Mark to be confident and reach for the impossible.

Reading the book I concluded that Mark along with the rest of the people in Mev’s life can take comfort in knowing Mev lived a life she truly loved. She achieved more that most could dream, walked the very path she desired, and left her footprints on many hearts and souls. Her spirit for life lives on.

My personal reflection after the book was to remind myself of how precious every breath is. I asked myself, if death came knocking at my door will I be able to seek comfort in having lived at least a fraction of what I wanted to live and how I wanted to love? I admire Mev for finding her soul and living her every day in that spirit well before she knew the ending of her story.

Kristin Bollig

One of my amazing students from fall 2006, Kristin had a class in which she needed to do a speech on someone she admired. What follows is a short speech she gave about Mev.

In 1964, the military takeover of the country of Brazil inspired men and women to rejoice in the streets. But soon after, these same men and women faced the oppression of a military government, a government that used torture and mass executions to squash rebellions. Even the Catholic Church was not completely safe from the military dictatorship that plagued much of South America. The military government in Brazil lasted 20 years, and the current civilian government is still recovering from those violent and bloody decades.

It was against this backdrop of turmoil and oppression that liberation theology was born, a type of theology that seeks to bring about a kingdom of God that “takes root in the soil of human community, equality and dignity,” that declares a preferential option for the poor and a God that lifts up those at the lowest levels of society. And it was against this backdrop in Brazil in 1977 that a very unlikely liberation theologian was born. She was not a nun. She was not a scholar. She was not even Brazilian, but she was a woman who saw the face of God in the poverty she witnessed during a vacation with her parents to Rio de Janeiro at the age of 14. Her name is Mev Puleo, and her message of liberation theology is as simple as the face of a child.

Mev was born to a middle class family in St. Louis, and she attended undergrad here at SLU. Even before college, she knew she loved photography; her father, Peter, was a photographer himself, and both of her parents encouraged her to develop her talent with the camera. Soon after school, Mev found her path in life leading her back down south to the poverty she witnessed on that vacation just a few years before. Camera in hand, she made several trips to Brazil and many other countries in Central and South America. There, she set about filling rolls and rolls of film with pictures like the one behind me that reveal the close proximity of poverty to our own lives and beliefs. This particular photograph, taken by Mev in Sao Paulo, Brazil, illustrates this striking proximity as a street child slumbers just feet away from privileged students like ourselves. It is images like this that made Mev’s photos so powerful; she was able to share with the world the scenes that would have otherwise been lost in the turmoil of injustices in Brazil and other struggling nations. Mev shared the truth so that we might see and know and continue to spread her message on to others.

On the trips that Mev made to Brazil and other nations, she set about not only giving a face to the oppressed, but also giving them a voice by interviewing them and publishing these interviews. PWPT VA She compiled her interviews with 16 individuals in Brazil along with many photographs in her book The Struggle is One: Voices and Visions of Liberation, which was published in 1994. This book is influential in the area of liberation theology because it was written to show that the poor are children of God, and they deserve the same humanity that the rest of the world has. In it, Mev offers her hopes for the book:

“Through images, narratives, and interviews, this book seeks to give a face and a voice to this new way of being a church, to the silenced and the outspoken, to the privileged and the impoverished…For holistic liberation, the struggle must reach both the individual and the societal, it must embrace the personal and the political.”

The Struggle is One follows the fight for liberation in Brazil through the work of 16 men and women, some famous and some not. By combining these interviews with photographs, Mev shared with the entire world what the kingdom of God looks like and how the men and women in Brazil are struggling to bring about this kingdom. Some of the photographs in her book are scenes that contrast privilege with poverty, but many are pictures of her interviewees, like the woman in the picture here. These simple pictures connect us to the most basic form of humanity: a person in need, a person struggling.

Unfortunately, Mev’s work was cut short in 1996 when this spectacular woman died of cancer. She spent her entire life working to give a face and a voice to the oppressed of our world, and there are hundreds, maybe thousands of undeveloped photos and un-translated interviews that Mev did not have time to share with us. But what we do have, we must cherish, for Mev’s final months were spent voiceless. On the day that Mev’s tumor took away her speech, she passed the struggle on to us that we may hear her voice in others. For we are all one, and we all struggle. As Mev pleaded in her book, “Hear in [the words of the oppressed] the echo of your own struggles and desires. And see in their faces a reflection of your own.”

Beth Huggins

Hi!
I was overjoyed to discover your website and it moved me to email you. I am a first-year student at Mount Mary College, where I know that you will be speaking in April, but I graduated from Notre Dame High School in Lemay last May. During my junior year there, I was in our required Social Justice religion course and was told to choose a woman who made a difference in a social justice area to research. I guess that Mev’s name was on a list from the teacher, but I don’t really remember how I came to choose her to “research”…….anyway, I found some information, wrote what was necessary, and moved on.

Thoughts about college and future plans were beginning to take over and it was not until the summer after that school year when I was teaching arts and crafts in the poverty of southeastern Missouri that I began to think that maybe, just maybe, I could find a way to put my love of art and my passion for peace and justice work together. Well, senior year came and that thought was always at the back of my mind, but not central, other than the idea that maybe I could keep doing the same kind of work that I had done over the summer, in southern Missouri, with the same organization, all the same.

Summer 2005 found me back down there teaching art and loving every minute of it, but beginning to really wonder if the major that I had chosen to begin here at Mt. Mary would really fulfill, if art education and art therapy would really give me the opportunities that I was starting to sense somewhere on the edge of my consciousness…so I kept working and wondering, searching the eyes of the children for answers, for the reason for their joy and hope, for where that was leading me.

August and Mt. Mary came…….I went to my first education major class and knew that it was not what I needed. After more searching, praying, consulting, and then not really knowing for sure why, I decided to double major in art therapy and theology. The art therapy part was clear to me as my work had been very much a healing process for the children, but to choose theology over behavioral science or fine arts was not so simple…..it seemed to just happen.

As the months passed and I became more and more involved in social justice activities and was able to travel to the SOA vigil with the sisters that I lived with during the summer (one of whom was a POC for her own crossing of the line), I realized that I was being drawn more and more to the people and culture of Latin America. I have yet to even leave the country and our trip to Guatemala this spring was canceled, but the connection somehow seems to transcend that…….I realized very recently that this is part of why I was drawn to study theology……the religious experience is so central to the lives of Latin American people……..and that could be a part of the healing, also. Art and the experience of the Transcendent are forever entwined………

Where am I going with all of this and why do I tell you my life’s story??!!! Maybe I am crazy, but I feel so connected to Mev’s and your story that it doesn’t seem to matter to me. Maybe no one else can see the same strong connection that I see/feel, but I guess that does not matter either. Mev’s quote, “When I was in my early teens, a thought took hold of me…” has stuck with me and when Mary Beth told me that you are coming and loaned me her copy of The Book of Mev, the true meaning hit me again. I read the first 2 or 3 pages and was struck by how incredibly similar my background is to Mev’s……I grew up off of Ballas Road, between Manchester and Clayton, so maybe 2 minutes from Viz……Catholic grade school in that area, though I had to escape the attitudes that I have seen come with the increase of wealth, at least in our parish, and went elsewhere for high school. A packed schedule has prevented me from reading much more, but all I had known before was that she was from St. Louis, not that close to home!

So…….I have been thinking a lot lately about the similarities and wondering what it all means……Mev’s use of photography and my currently broader vision of using art in some way to tell the stories of those without a voice…..I am definitely being called to learn from her work.

I wanted you to know how Mev’s story continues to touch people. Thank you for sharing the gift of her life. I hope that this means something to you, as Mev’s husband, as a theology professor, as someone involved in peace and justice work (Karen House is an awesome place!). If nothing else, thanks for “listening” to me process all of this!

Peace,

Beth Huggins

In my Social Justice class, I ask students to keep a commonplace journal on the books we read: They take note of significant passages from the text, and reflect on its meaning for their own lives. I am happy to share the response to The Book of Mev by Kristen Schenk, one of my students in Social Justice from fall of 2006.

“Ellacuria once offered a spiritual exercise for the present age of atrocity that called people of good will to struggle so that others can experience a more abundant life: ‘I want you to set your eyes and your hearts on those people who are suffering so much—some from poverty and hunger, others from oppression and repression. Then (since I am a Jesuit), standing before this people thus crucified you must repeat St. Ignatius’ examination from the first week of the [Spiritual] Exercises. Ask yourselves: What have I don’t to crucify them? What do I do to uncrucify them? What must I do for this people to rise again?’” (Page 108)

“Carlos Mesters…had said to Mev, ‘There’s a poverty in every human life. When we’re aware of our limits, we’re more open to change and conversion. If our limits are at the individual level, like alcoholism or alienation, our awareness can provoke a change so that we can grow beyond this. Here in Brazil, our limits are very much at the social level—hunger, homelessness. We struggle to become aware and change these things. But sometimes after engaging in a long social struggle, we realize that nothing grew inside of us. Maybe in the U.S. your limits are more at the personal level. But sometimes when you are struggling individually, you realize that you have to address the social dimension to arrive at the personal dimension. Without integration of the personal and the social, we won’t be full persons. We may start at different points, but we arrive together. THE STRUGGLE IS ONE.’” (Page 139)

“The struggle is one” really struck a chord in me. Right now, I am very interested in the idea of solidarity and of working directly with people to achieve some goal. I feel that, more than anything else, solidarity demonstrates commitment to a cause and willingness to sacrifice some aspect(s) of one’s life in order to work for something greater. I was inspired by Mev’s dedication to the poor, mostly of Central America, and her willingness to do without many things in order to be one with them. She worked tirelessly to promote their lives to those of more prominent standing who might be able to aid them. Moreover, I think solidarity can be seen in people separated by distance but working for a common goal. I don’t think you have to physically move to some poverty-ridden neighborhood or foreign place to live with the poor if you are to demonstrate your commitment to them. Some people may be most effective doing this, but without others working for organizations or trying to get funding or attempting to change legislation, living in solidarity with people can only do so much. In the book, Pedo Casaldalíga said, “As long as there’s a First World, there won’t be peace because there won’t be justice or sharing” (page 146). I firmly believe that, until we all unite for the same causes—the ideas of justice, equality, and decent lives for all people, everywhere—we will never fully bring God’s Kingdom to the earth.

“‘We also came to learn that to be in solidarity with the poor we didn’t have to give up everything or stop being who we were. I’ll always be middle-class, even if I lower my salary. We’re middle-class by the very way we understand society, our level of education, our access to persons and power. We can’t deny our own history! But we do have to place our gifts and our work at the service of changing society. We have to use our goods to serve the grassroots struggle.’ –Lori Altmann” (Page 141)

One thing I often tend to overlook is the idea that no matter what I choose to do with my life, there will always be an unbridgeable gap existing between myself and the people I hope to serve. Due simply to my luck of being born into a stable, loving, and middle-class life, there will always be places where I am unable to connect with the less fortunate. Not only because I have been given more in some cases, but because, in plenty of others, they are the privileged ones and can teach me things. As Lori says, these sorts of characteristics and mindsets that have been ingrained in a person since birth cannot be dispelled. Instead, I must figure out how best to use them in my service to the poor. I remember when I heard Fr. Sobrino talk about liberation theology and his work in El Salvador. He said that we—the people of the First World who are in the upper and middle classes—will always be differentiated, and there is no reason we will be punished for that. It would, however, be a sin if we chose to remain comfortable in this place and refuse to help ease the misery or suffering of our brothers and sisters. Lori reassures me that it is not necessary to sever ties with the past in order to carry out Christ’s mission in the present and future.

“‘There’s a tendency to lose your human vulnerability and responsiveness for those tragedies and become, not just hardened as in bitter or cynical, but aloof, or your compassion becoming an automatic response where you can be kind, but you are on automatic pilot, not from the heart, because if you let all that tragedy touch you, you might just fall apart…How do you keep your heart vulnerable and genuinely responsive and not just going through the motions?’ –Ann Manganaro” (Pages 184-185)

Insensitivity is a risk to which every person is exposed in the modern world—or, at least, the modern American world. I mean, evil, cruelty, death, destruction, and war are among the dominant issues shown in our media. After seeing so much of it, a person’s natural response would be to shut down and refuse to be affected by such things. I find that, in the case of the war in Iraq, I have unfortunately become insensitive to the thousands of people who die each day. At first, I cared so much more about each soldier and each civilian who was reported dead. I thought about their families and the losses they were feeling. But as time has passed and nothing has changed, I have stopped paying attention and stopped empathizing with the families of those lost. While I am not trying to justify my response, I think it is all too common. When faced with so much heartache, how can one look at it and not feel discouraged and depressed? At the same time, however, I think sometimes, for people working to solve issues such as oppression and starvation, it is necessary to create distance between oneself and those suffering. If a delicate balance between compassion and “auto pilot” is not achieved, the person will be either too hardened to care or too involved to accomplish anything.

“‘What would it mean for St. Louis University, as an institution, to more fully embody the social dimension of the faith and make an option-for-the-poor universitariamente? There have been good efforts throughout SLU’s history—community service, scholarships, shaping the public debates. My own moral consciousness was shaped at SLU—through the example of professors and campus ministers—in a way that inspired me to devote my energies towards building a more compassionate and just world community. And yet, I suspect this is not the case for most SLU students.’ –Mev’s letter to Fr. Biondi” (Pages 216-217)

When I think back to what brought me to SLU, I know that God’s hand was definitely at work. I am ashamed to admit that I nearly became a cadet at the Air Force Academy—something totally contradictory to the beliefs I hold today. However, in my defense, I was doing so because it made sense financially, and I would have job security for basically an entire career, plus the opportunity of living in various places. However, two weeks before the deadline, I changed my mind and decided on SLU because I felt something deep within me calling me to be here. SLU’s explicit focus on forming men and women for others did not influence my decision at all, but, like Mev, it has definitely shaped who I have become and who I will be. That said, I, too, find myself struggling in some situations when I see how SLU administrators and students approach them. First, I find it absurd that tuition is so high that most students are forced to carry large student loans. This is absurd to me because, if I am called and encouraged, by my SLU education, to serve the community and give back to my world, I must also consider my financial responsibility to the university. I think this really limits a lot of people in their quest to do any type of volunteer work after graduation. I have also found that the students who are active in issues of service and social justice tend to be the same core circle for most issues. Perhaps SLU students (myself included) are not doing a good enough job of promoting the importance of these issues among our peers. Unfortunately, I know that a lot of this lack of involvement comes from, simply, a lack of interest, and I’m not sure how students or administrators could go about changing this. I think Mev’s letter raised a great point about incorporating social justice more into the overall mission and atmosphere of the university. I mean, when freshmen are told at orientation that anywhere around campus is dangerous, as are people who look suspicious, how are the Jesuit and Christian ideals being practiced? They are not. I also have issues with the promotion of the number of service hours the SLU community has contributed. The way I see it, service should not seem like a requirement that must be fulfilled or a contest to be won. We should truly enjoy and want to give back to others and help provide people with some of the same opportunities we have had. We say we are a university for others, but there are definitely many areas that need improvement—although there are many areas where students and administrators/faculty are also doing great things.

“‘Still trying to make sense of Mev’s experience. If I understood, I think part of her passionate response to injustice included regarding injustice as incomprehensible: Why? How can a human being act this way to another human being? One terrible aspect of injustice is that it strips away the dignity of the one who is abused. But the opposite of injustice, love, affirms human dignity.’ –Nora Archer” (Page 289)

One of the most frequently-written words in my journal this semester might be “why.” I use it almost nonstop as I am exposed to so many new perspectives on previously-known issues and so many new issues. I use it when asking why I was so lucky to be born into what some consider the best country on the earth and into such a loving and supportive family, when so many people have neither. I’ve even used it to ask how come I’ve had to learn about everything wrong in the world and why it had to spark in me some sort of unquenchable longing to do something to change it. “Why” questions never seem to escape from my thoughts. Mev’s life seems to have been driven by such “why” questions. She wasn’t able to provide answers to most of them, but she saw God in all situations, and it seems to me that she saw God working in ways that put these why’s into perspective. Everything was happening for a reason in the big scheme of things, even her cancer and her ultimate death. “Why” is such a tough question to answer, and often one that cannot be answered, but because of that it should drive us even more to want to change things.

“As a college student, [Mev] wrote: ‘When I was in my early teens, a thought took hold of me. Jesus didn’t die to save us from suffering—he died to teach us how to suffer, to be with us in our every anguish and agony, to give meaning to our pain. Sometimes I actually mean it. I’d rather die young, having lived a life crammed with meaning than to die old, even in security, but without meaning.’” (Page 327)

“[Mev] came to a resolution about how to respond to this crisis and she describes it later in the introduction to The Struggle is One: ‘Yes the way up the hill to Christ the Redeemer is a bumpy, sometimes dangerous ride. And I have come to believe that we, the privileged, are invited to get off the bus and plant our feet squarely beside the journeying people, walking with the God who is present in those on both sides of the road.’” (Page 328)

“‘I am called. I am called forth to say no to injustice, war, the preparation for war. I am called forth to yes to life, yes to diversity, yes to the stepped-on ones standing up and claiming what is theirs…God, empower us to strive and struggle with integrity, love, and humility for a better world, to strive and struggle courageously, willing to risk, willing to be inaccomodated, placing our freedom on behalf of others’ unfreedom—empower and inspire us to act creatively and justly and lovingly and disruptingly. Life as usual cannot go on, as it grinds the poor into the dust and sand—sick, sick, sick. God, heal this sick world and let us be your hands. Condemning no one and afraid of no one.’ –Mev’s journal” (Page 372)

Mev’s mission statement would be an ideal one for any person who truly wants to follow the Christian path in life. Instead of focusing on strictly following the rules of the church or being pro-life in the sense of anti-abortion, Mev’s ideas about calling and vocation span the spectrum of social justice issues, touching on many areas of concern. Sure, many people can be disgusted with the current state of the world, but that disgust has to reach a certain level and function in conjunction with a desire for betterment if anything is to come of it—and this is precisely what Mev did. I think that, in some way, all Christians have this same vocation of unconditional love for our brothers and sisters around the world. How we put it into action differs between people, but we should always focus on standing up for life and liberty. As stressed above, those of us who come from situations where it is easier—albeit safer—to take a stand on politically-charged issues should do so as much as possible to help those who cannot do so. Mev could not live with herself unless she knew she was doing all she could to work for a better world—a world with less “sickness.” Neither should we concede to living in prosperity and security when it could just as easily have been us on the other side of the issue.

I recently received this reflection from a former student, Nina Lotfi, who studied with me in the spring of 2003 at Saint Louis University. Having grown up in Iran, Nina knew what war was like and she often reminded the class–then debating the the U.S. invasion of Iraq–of the human consequences. My friend Layla once said that Nina’s face just gives off light. I wish you could meet her. Here’s her piece:

I’m Tired of Debating
Nina Lotfi

For a moment close your eyes and think of an event…happy or sad. An event that shaped who you are today…An event that was so powerful that it was forever frozen in your memory…Think of the psychological power this event had on you…did it influence your personality….your view of the world, your cynicism or optimism?

Consider the personalities of your parents and why they are who they are…..and how they have influence you to be or not to be….

These events…whether they are seconds or years of our life can either brighten or taint our experience in this life. They don’t just shape who you are, but through you it may impact the lives of your friends, your children, your children’s’ children and so on…..

Now imagine living through a war – on either side. Can you imagine the emotional or physical damage to people? I bring this up because I feel, I, along with the rest of the US have focused entirely too much on should we have gone to the war…should we leave now…or should we add 20,000 more men?

We are all curious to know where others stood before the war and where they stand today. But we should not make the mistake of making this about us and our opinions. Instead maybe we should focus on something bigger than the actual decision to go to war or the decision to leave Iraq…the morality of it all.

Doesn’t it seem trivial to debate a decision, when the social consequences of the war have already occurred? Whether we stay a bit longer or leave tomorrow, the damage is done.

Is it enough to take accountability and accept that we made a mistake in going to war and that we need to re-strategize? In the business world, we preach that accepting accountability is also accepting responsibility. To accept mistakes or faults means that we are also willing to take ownership…to come up with an action plan and how to fix it.

What about the US soldiers who will return with post traumatic stress disorder….after the war is long forgotten will they still get support and treatment if needed?

What about the soldiers who saw the horrors of war …. the eyes of the innocents dying……the injustice in the world …the discrepancy between our nation’s lifestyle and those in a developing nation….will they be able to forget all of that and go back to watching Deal or no Deal…spending Sundays watching football?

What about the psychological impact of violence to the general population…How will the daily exposure of violence and death shape the futures of Iraqi children?

What about the increasing number of orphans, who will care for them? Who will be their voice?

What about the limited numbers of psychiatrists in Iraq to help the people overcome their grief, their losses….to gain their sanity….

But the battle in Iraq only starts with discontinuation of violence…what about all that remains after the violence? Is a humanitarian need such as this the responsibility of a nation, those within geographical approximately, or even those that are likeminded?

Perhaps the problem is not that we went to war in Iraq…but that all around the world we are unsympathetic to suffering…..we debate and discus because it’s our citizens dying, our politicians who mislead us, or our tax dollars being wasted….but not because of the social consequences.

Take a look around…open up any world news source and you will see Iraq is not alone. What about …

• The fact that globally, there are twice as many conflict-induced internally displaced persons (IDPs) as refugees (13 million in Africa alone)
• The fact that in 2001, bottom 50 percent of the world’s adult population owned barely 1 percent of the world’s wealth; while the richest 10 percent of adults accounted for 85 percent of assets.
• The millions of people (majority children) living in temporary camps in Afghanistan?
• AIDS in Africa?
• The situation in Darfur?
• The two-thirds of Palestinians in the West Bank and the Gaza Strip who are now living in poverty.
• The conflict between Somalia and Ethiopia

I’m no different than the next guy….I do not flip the channel when I see a news piece on the suffering of the world no matter how my day ends….I am aware of what’s going on around the world, but am I any different than the person who is unaware? Either way criticism should be given when it’s due. At the end I also did nothing….I too watched from miles away as another genocide was recorded in history…

Wednesday 10 January 2007

Tonight, Megan Heeney and I spoke on Social Justice with 115 SLU students who are Resident Advisors in the various dorms. Were were invited by the ever vivacious Mollie Mohan to join the students this evening as part of the Res Life’s Winter Workshop, the theme of which is “Making a Difference…Every Day!!” It was a pleasure to chat with former students like John Carroll, Samantha Howard, Megan Kinney, Nani Makia, Kelly Hartman, and Sara Bronder. Megan H spoke for the second time in her life about how she got involved in anti-death penalty work, and befriended and was befriended by Donald Jones, who was executed in Missouri two years ago this April. With her usual humility and candor, Megan recounted this journey into the awareness that, just like you and me, Donnie was a person. So simple, right? But there are some whole groups of people we write off, like death row inmates, like Arabs, like Muslims, like gays. I hope Megan continues to find ways to tell that story of awakening–we all need to hear such powerful yet gentle examples of how change occurs and how community is born, in the seeming most unlikely of places. See her letter to Sister Helen Prejean and a letter to Donnie here.

It’s obvious: the great blessing for teachers is to meet students who give the class their all. One of these is Patti Silverman, who graced our Tuesday-Thursday 11 am Social Justice class in fall 2006. For her insertion, she worked at Karen House on Fridays. At the end of the semester, I invited students to share a message with their classmates. Here’s what Patti had to say…

Tomorrow is the last day of Social Justice class and I am almost at a loss for words. How do I even begin to describe what has transpired within and outside of the four white walls of room 2096. I came in here in August not knowing what to expect, figuring this would be like any other class. A teacher who doesn’t care to learn my name, exams, lectures—how wrong was I. This may sound odd—I even feel weird writing it, but this class(or maybe the people in it) have changed my life. I have been taken out of my comfort zone, educated on topics I wasn’t even aware of, and opened up to the possibility of a better future. I honestly feel I am a changed person. This class has brought me to tears, made me laugh, angered me, and disturbed me, but this is the first class where I actually had some sort of feeling. Can I even call it a class—I think it should be called a “life journey.” Never would I have thought I would spend each Friday among the poor working at Karen House. I have always felt a drive to help the poor, but never would I have thought I could actually make some type of difference in their lives. Never would I have thought I would come to a class where people actually talk to one another. I have met some of the most remarkable people in this class, people who actually say “hi” to me as I pass them on campus, people who push me to be a better person.

Thank you Romaytha for spending a Saturday night talking with three questioning Catholics about Islam. Thank you Rachel for revealing so much of your life and letting me feel it was okay to reveal mine. Thank you Jessica for your news events as I entered class. Thank you Chris and Sarah for making me realize how little I actually do in the world. You gave me a call to action and I admire your relentless pursuit of social justice. Thank you Ryan for being the cynical voice, as you were often “sick of discussing feelings.” If I go through this whole class I would have to fill up the rest of this journal. But to those I haven’t named—you all left an imprint in your own way.

Never would I have thought I could come to a class and talk about me—my struggles and failures, and find people who really want to listen. What am I going to do next semester from 11-12:15? Go to a philosophy class or history class? I am sure the professor would not allow us to sit in a circle, ring a bell, and meditate. Wow, how much am I going to miss this class. In a way I am scared to leave that door today—am I going to forget everything? What will I do without reading assignments and agendas? How will I know what is going on in the world and find people willing to discuss issues beyond their new crush or Friday night plans? I know I won’t let go of these lessons because they have become a part of who I am. I now consciously stop myself when my thoughts turn negative and tell myself “just like me she wants to be happy, she doesn’t want to suffer.” I spent Thanksgiving in a new mindset, which my family definitely noticed. Every comment they made, whether relevant or not, was followed by a social justice remark: “I don’t like that company because they fund this social injustice…” “I am thankful for this meal because there are people hungry in Saint Louis, in Burma, in Haiti, in our neighborhood…” Every time I talk to my mom on the phone I usually end up reading her some quote related to our conversation from a book we read. Recently she sat by as I read her an entire chapter from The Book of Mev.

As exams are approaching I find myself stopping and saying, “Breathing in I calm myself, Breathing out I smile.” I have realized among all the evils in life—that these moments—this moment really is wonderful.

So lastly, I want to say thank you—even though that doesn’t even voice my appreciation to Dr. C. Thank you for caring about each of us as individuals, actually learning about what is important in our lives. Thank you for sitting in this circle with us, as one of us, instead of standing in front of a board. Thank you for making us write in this journal and read so many books. Thank you for introducing us to your personal life and your wife—who I would have loved to meet and talk about photography with. Thank you for making us stop—for making us feel like we can make a difference. How can I get so sentimental about Social Justice class? Because it isn’t about a book—it is about our lives, and before now I was blind to most of it. Thank you Dr. C for honestly being the best teacher I have ever had. You were not just a teacher of a college course, you are a teacher of life. I admire you greatly—your strength is empowering.

I hope to walk out of this door today and never again turn my back on the world or the struggles of humanity. I challenge myself to continue my action for change, and I challenge each of you to do the same. Our eyes are now open, let us only being to see.