Experiencing Elizabeth Seton's New York

photo taken from sacreddestinations.com

In the World Financial Center, photo by S. Kati

Following the Elizabeth Seton tour led by Sister Regina Bechtle in Downtown New York, a volunteer commented that she had a greater sense of Elizabeth Seton's humanity-- both her challenges and generosity.  Seeing the places she walked and house where she lived reminded us that her experience was not so far removed from ours. If she had the same banal struggles and joys as young women like us today, then we can believe in our potential to live and work meaningfully.  As long as there is poverty, there is an opportunity to serve.

Encounters After Hours, The Midnight Run

Reflections by volunteer, Adrienne C., age 23.

Adrienne just completed her Masters in Education at Boston College, where she also received a B.A. in Education and Spanish. She will be teaching Spanish at a junior high in a suburb of Boston this fall.

Last night was a first. I’ve never gone out looking for homeless men and women before; on the contrary, I, along with mainstream America, have tried to pretend they do not exist. I am guilty of turning away on the street and walking by as if the sidewalk were empty. Last night, though, we were on a mission. It was out of my comfort zone to approach someone experiencing homelessness, as I think it is with many people. Homeless men and women are one of the most obvious examples of not only the “other” in society, but also our society’s failure to take care of its weakest and most vulnerable members. As the night went on and I talked to some of the individuals we visited on the streets of midtown, I realized that they are daughters, sons, mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts, nieces, nephews. One man asked us to watch his things while he went to the van parked around the corner because someone once stole a bag with his teeth and diabetes medication in it. He had to wait a month before he could get his prescription renewed, and, fortunately, his son purchased him some new teeth. It took a moment for the word “son” to register with me. Why on earth would anyone let their father live on the street when they have the means to finance a new set of teeth? After talking with Bill, the “Mother Theresa” of the Midnight Run, I slowly grasped that the issue of homelessness is much deeper and complex than I can even begin to understand. Every homeless individual, like every individual with shelter, has a unique story, set of circumstances, and baggage to deal with. There are a million possibilities why this man’s son cannot take him in, as there are with each of the other people we encountered last night.

I was most struck by the dichotomy of lifestyles in Midtown. Our largest stop, at a church on Fifth Avenue, is perhaps thirteen steps from the Harry Winston store. Someone could feasibly walk into the store, spend a year’s rent on a piece of jewelry, which really serves no purpose other than to look pretty, and then walk by several individuals who, for whatever reason, cannot afford to pay even one month’s rent in Section 8 housing. Well-heeled young women walked by this same spot, and one girl audibly uttered, “That’s so sad.” I’m aware that passersby saw us interacting with the homeless. Their countenances ranged from disgusted to surprised to confused. One man walked by the first client we visited and actually covered his mouth and nose with his shirt, making no effort to conceal his disgust with the man’s stench. Maybe people do notice the homeless, but few actually do anything to meet neither their immediate or long term needs.

The majority of the clients we served were gracious, appreciative, and courteous. This is much more than can be said for some people who can afford to go out to eat at swanky locales and complain about every single aspect of the dining experience, down to the volume of the music in the restaurant. Too many people with privilege take too many things for granted and do not realize that one bad decision, one instance of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, or one unexpected medical expense can cause things to change drastically. Like my mother says, “There but for the grace of God.”

Sometime in the next week, I’m going to buy $40 or $50 worth of Dunkin Donuts gift cards and keep them in my wallet. Then, when I see someone one the street who is looking for money for food, I can give them one of these gift cards. It is not the most healthy or nutritious food, but at least they can have the privilege of going into a restaurant, choosing what they would like to eat, and having someone else prepare it and clean up after it. Simply doing this and engaging in a conversation, even a short one, with an individual experiencing homelessness or abject poverty reinforces their humanity. It’s possible that someone who I’m with or someone walking by one the street will think I’m crazy for fraternizing with a dirty, smelly, possibly mentally ill person, but what they believe does not concern me. These men and women are the “little ones” in society, and if they’re good enough for Jesus, they’re good enough for me.

Week-Long Service Experience, St. John's Bread & Life

 photos by Goma

Reflections by volunteer Emily H., age 21

Emily will be entering her senior year this fall at college in Pennsylvania where she studies English and Japanese.

Tuesday, June 8

Today was the third day I’ve worked in St. John’s MSK (Mobile Soup Kitchen)—two more to go, and it’s definitely been an interesting experience. I’ve worked in soup kitchens before, but never on wheels or for this amount of time.

I chose to work at St. John’s because we had already done one day there as a group and I thought it would be fairly simple. It’s true that spooning vegetables into hundreds of Styrofoam containers doesn’t require an awful lot of brain power, but that means I get to think about other things, like the people to whom we’re giving the food. Unless I’m handing out the meals there aren’t a lot of opportunities to people-watch, and even then I still have to concentrate on moving as fast as possible.

However, I have stolen moments here and there to wonder about the hungry people in line—how old are they? How long have they been receiving meals from organizations like St. John’s? Why do some stand off to the side for a half an hour and then join the line? And of course I will never know.

The thing that bothers me most is that I have to assume the worst. Since we can’t give more than one serving to a person unless they have children with them or there are no more people in line, sometimes people will eat and then get back in line and pretend not to have done so. I dislike handing out the food for this reason; I have a very bad memory for faces and probably won’t remember if someone does double back.

The majority of the people who come to the van do understand that we will give seconds when everyone else has eaten, but just those few who don’t make me uneasy and also sad, because for all I know they won’t be eating anything else until the next day. I really wish there weren’t reasons to be skeptical or suspicious of those who are hungry, and maybe eventually there won’t be.

Week-Long Service Experience, Sharing Place Thrift Shop

photo taken from Little Sisters of Assumption website

Reflections by volunteer, Adrienne C., age 23.

Adrienne just completed her Masters in Education at Boston College, where she also received a B.A. in Education and Spanish. She will be teaching Spanish at a junior high in a suburb of Boston this fall.

Sharing Place Thrift Shop at Little Sisters of the Assumption
East Harlem, NY
June 7-10

I spent five years learning about culturally-responsive teaching, biases that exist in standardized testing, and why “minority students” and “underprepared students” are quickly becoming one in the same, but it took volunteering in the thrift shop for me to understand, in part, why the substantial achievement gap between white and nonwhite students exists in this country. As I sorted through piles of children’s books to prepare to help the clients better, I saw some of my favorites from childhood like Chika, Chika, Boom, Boom, Strega Nona, The Very Hungry Caterpillar, Stellaluna, and Corduroy. As I picked up some of these classic titles and conversed with Sabrina, I slowly realized that not every child residing in the United States today received the same literature-rich upbringing I did. These titles, and others, which comprise considerable cultural capital in American society, were both available and well-known to me. My mother always took us to the library, and I had a plethora of books to choose from growing up. This picture is a far cry from the lives that many children who enter the doors of Little Sisters of the Assumption on 115th Street lead. It is difficult to take your child to the library if you’re a single parent and work three jobs to make ends meet. Bed bugs, an abusive partner, and cut off utilities are much more important than sitting down to read at night with your child. Teaching phonics, vocabulary development, and reading comprehension is a formidable challenge when the book is published in a language you don’t understand.

The creators of most standardized tests in this country, who more or less hold the keys to the success of America’s youth, do not realize these realities. Or, if they do, they choose to ignore them. All students in a specific state are held to the same standards when they are required to take the state exams to pass high school, and most students wishing to gain access to an institution of higher learning in the United States must take a standardized test. The problem is, students are not standardized, so why should the tool designed to assess them be? To be blunt, students raised in East Harlem with the aforementioned issues have little to no chance of performing as well as me on standardized tests. Period. That may sound harsh, but the truth isn’t always tidy and clean like we want it to be. Expecting the same results from both groups-- the “haves and the have-nots”-- is like expecting two sprinters to finish the 100-meter dash at the same time when one starts 20 meters behind the other. These twenty meters are the endless Clifford, Dr. Seuss, and Boxcar Children books I read or were read to me in my childhood-- it’s pretty damn hard to match “success” as defined by the white, male, straight, English-speaking world when you had no opportunity whatsoever to mitigate your deficit.

Encountering the Sisters of Mary the Queen

Reflection and Photos by volunteer Goma

Goma comes from Nepal to study nursing at the College of Mount Saint Vincent.

Today we went to the Convent of Mary the Queen. This is the place where I started volunteering every Friday or during the weekends since September 2009. It has been my summer home as well. When I first came to this country, I was missing home and had no place to go on the weekends. So I requested Sister Ceil at my college's campus ministry to find me a place where I can visit. This is how I came in touch with the Senior Sisters of Charity. Their unconditional love and guidance has made my stay in this country enjoyable.

We went to the Convent of Mary the Queen around 2:30 pm. Sister Mary Kay Finneran and Sister Linda Giuli gave us an orientation about the convent. The whole purpose of our visit was to meet the Senior Sisters, introduce ourselves, and let them know that we are trying to keep the spirit of Vincent de Paul and Mother Seton, as they did throughout their life. We gave some hand massages to the sisters, and shared our experience about how it feels to serve the poor these past few days, especially when we provide them with their daily meals. All of the sisters appreciated that we were doing this two-week “Charity in the City” program, which according to them is almost like a previous program, “Summer in the City.” It doesn’t matter what it is called-- the whole point was to bring back the spirit of doing something for society, and to continue the spirit of Mother Seton and Vincent de Paul.

When we talk about New York City, we often forget to think that behind or somewhere in the corners of these huge buildings and fancy markets, there are communities who live in poverty. I am so inspired by the Sisters of Charity for their contributions in education, health, and social justice, which have been nurturing society. Mother Seton says “All are Welcome," and that’s how they take care of the community regardless of caste, color, religion, sex, or citizenship. I have been thankful to God and all the Sisters for their unconditional love and guidance. I cannot thank them enough for what I have learned from their inspirational lives. I now do not just want to open a nursing home for the senior citizens in Nepal, but I want to spread the spirit of Vincent de Paul and Mother Seton, and want to make sure that no one dies of hunger or because they did not feel loved. I want to open a place like “Elizabeth Seton Pediatric Centre,” “St. John’s Bread and Life,” or “Midnight Run” and feed, love, and bring people back to society who beg every day in the streets of my beautiful but sad Kathmandu, Nepal. All are welcome to contribute their love, and prayers. God Bless.