Deep Listening

In our weekly meetings for the Beatitudes Society, the Bay area fellows gather either in downtown San Francisco, at the Regeneration Project, or at First Congregational Church in Berkeley. For me, these weekly gatherings have been refreshing; the other Fellows and their insights have provided me with new perspectives and ideas with which to approach my own work here at the Ignatian Solidarity Network. In a recent meeting, we spoke about deep listening – how such a practice would aid us in our time with one another. I have to admit that it is a practice that over the past few years I have consciously attempted to inculcate in my life, but still find to be a challenge. I was struck this time around by this practice as I began to consider how the initial work of constructing a network among Jesuit parishes requires this practice.

As I reflect on this practice further, I realize that good organizing, good theology and good leadership find a basis in deep listening. True dialogue and conversation hinge upon it; any form of government or administration becomes more or less representative of the desires of persons and the common good in direct proportion with its ability to listen to the needs of all (as much as this is possible). Particularly in the situation I am dealing with, this network only gains momentum by being a project arising from the needs of the people it serves. And for this to work, deep listening must take in what these folks are saying.

This is all a bit pedantic, but it is a lesson so carelessly ignored by much of the Church these days. I think that lip service (or is it ear service…?) is given to the notion of listening to someone, but listening is an active practice. In fact, I think the initial listening is only the first step; what follows requires attention as well.

During most of my phone interviews, I’ve developed the habit of listening to someone’s idea and then repeating it back, shaped up and packaged so that it is recognizable as the person’s own idea, but maybe put a different way. And I ask for validation of these statements: is this what you mean? A couple of years going to spiritual direction have ingrained such a habit into my own questioning and listening! From this moment of understanding what the person is saying, I take notes and then begin to find parallels with others I’ve talked to, consider new points, and continue to construct an idea of what to propose for a concept of the network. The end goal is to offer something that both mirrors what people desire and presents something new to consider.

And of course, in order for the network to continue past its inception, deep listening must continue from ISN’s perspective – as the facilitator – and among those who are in the network. Solidarity and mutual learning will only arise from this fundamental practice.

Delving Deeper

“Only open your human heart your Christian heart, and ask yourselves the three questions Ignatius of Loyola put to himself as he stood in front of the crucified world: What have I done for Christ in this world? What am I doing now? And above all, what should I do?”

I have been reflecting further on this quote from Ignacio Ellacuría and its implications for a life of Christian discipleship. To add another lens to this quote, what are the implications of a life of Christian discipleship when lived within community – as a Church? If we accept (and I think we must) that our Christian faith is essentially ecclesial and therefore, communal, then the asking of Ignatius’s three questions above becomes a group exercise, carefully discerned, yet courageously engaging. It becomes an ongoing task of the parish community and opens up possibilities for solidarity among parishes in their struggles, challenges and joys of social ministry. It is in this light, that Ignatius's questions can be considered anew.

The opening lines of the Second Vatican Council’s Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World (Gaudium et spes) read as follows: “The joys and the hopes, the griefs and the anxieties of the men of this age, especially those who are poor or in any way afflicted, these are the joys and hopes, the griefs and anxieties of the followers of Christ.” In the Gospels, we find Christ accompanying the poor, the oppressed of society; we also find him ‘proclaiming the year of the Lord’s favor’ (Lk. 4:19) following the many ways in which he (in the words of Isaiah) promises the liberation that only God can inaugurate fully. If the Spirit of the Lord which anoints Jesus in the Temple is the same Spirit which founds, enlivens, renews, re-awakens and surprises the Church, then it is in this same Spirit that we identify with the joys, hopes, griefs and anxieties of those who are poor and the bearers of social injustice. Therefore, the first question can be restated: what have we, the church, done for Christ – the Christ we see so clearly in the Gospel – in this world? In what ways have we humbly served the Lord? In what ways have we been lacking – fearful, ignorant or indignant? In what ways might we be driving the nails of crucifixion further into the crucified of this world and thus stifling the Spirit? These questions are just as applicable at the local, parish level as well.

I must admit that the above paragraph is somewhat incomplete – much more could (and should) be said. And to some, it may appear that the first paragraph is obvious – this is the perennial challenge given to the Church. To others, it may appear slightly discomforting or even off-putting or maybe even somewhat difficult to relate to. This is valid when we consider the reality of parish life and the incredibly rich variance in how each parish is established, functions and lives as a community. I want to suggest that the second question of Ignatius can be considered on the local, particular level: what are we doing now for Christ? When we look around at our parish, what are we doing? What are the many gifts of the same Spirit that woven together make up the single thread of our community? What is our social outreach to local and global communities? Do we educate one another on the status of the crucified in the world? Do we run soup kitchens and food pantries, but neglect to ask why it is that these things are necessary? Do we go about our social ministries seeking to ‘put ourselves out of business’? Do we make the connection between the poor persons we encounter and accompany and Christ who reveals himself in them (Mt. 25)? Are we asking the why questions related to those we serve and do we take action to address them when they spell out injustice?

I am reminded at this point in my reflection of an essay written by Karl Rahner, SJ, an important 20th century Catholic theologian (and teacher of Ignacio Ellacuría), on the Church as a critic of society. His main argument is that in order for the Church to exercise a credible and truth-based critique of society, we must be always self-critical in the sense that we are attentive to how our prophetic message is applied and lived in our own ecclesial situation as we seek to hold it as the standard by which society is critiqued. Rahner notes the centrality of the Gospel for this:

This critical perspective as applied to social realities and changes in social politics can, to the extent that it is opened up by the Church, only be the gospel which the Church preaches and lives by, though of course this is not to deny, but rather to maintain, that the Church herself needs to be brought back ever anew by her own Spirit to this gospel as providing the perspective for social criticism. (“The Function of the Church as a Critic of Society,” 235)

Therefore, when we seek to do social justice, a critical self-awareness must accompany the critical look we take to the injustice we see present. To put it another way: if we are to ‘proclaim a year of the Lord’s favor’ in the Spirit of Christ; if we truly seek to become ever more fully a sacrament of the kingdom of God, then we must do so based on the gospel and with humility.

The third question of Ignatius, ‘what should I do?’, is related to that point and is about conversion and hope. It is an acknowledgement that the current reality of worldwide injustice in its many forms and our complicity in it (personally, socially, even ecclesially) is not the full expression of the kingdom of God. Asking ‘What should we do?’ causes us to realize that not only have we not concretized the kingdom fully within history, but we alone do not possess the means for making this happen. Our realization of this and our consideration of the kingdom as an ongoing project of God’s grace acts as the catalyst for conversion. At the same time, this project is one of hope that is truly eschatological; it is rooted in the difficulty of the present and cannot forsake that reality, but looks ahead to through the lens of the gospel to new life, a new creation.

Theologically, all of this is logically sound (I hope!). But practically – realistically – we need to work out what it means concretely. To ask what should we do for Christ in a world of the crucified is a question that certainly requires the theological reflection given above, but it cannot get lost in reflection. Using Ellacuría’s terminology, these concepts of ‘kingdom’, ‘eschatology’, and ‘grace’ must be ‘historicized’ – brought into conversation with historical reality. This is where the rubber hits the road. ‘Historicization’ is the process by which we ascertain if our theology and praxis are mutually informative – in our concrete living out of the gospel.

Given the realities that many folks at parishes face in their social ministries, it is easier to see how conversion works for one whose eyes are opened to the massive injustice surrounding them. For example, when a parish organizes a program to provide shelter, food and clothes to the homeless in the wintertime, conversion occurs on many different levels. First, conversion occurs in the realization that a situation of homelessness exists for people in one’s own community. Second, it occurs when one begins to reflect more deeply on this reality and considers why homelessness exists. Third, conversion to the gospel continues to flourish when one begins to consider the ways in which s/he can begin to change that reality – to transform it. And at a parish, this can occur not only individually, but communally, leading to advocacy work on behalf of the homeless within the city. In this process of conversion, the kingdom finds steadier ground and grace finds a welcoming, yet necessarily ongoing response.

This last point – the ‘necessarily ongoing’ point – is crucial, yet perhaps more difficult. I think this is the crucial lesson of parish ministry from my observer’s standpoint: the ongoing willingness to be converted. And it is this willingness that arises from Christian hope. Looking ahead to the fullness of the kingdom in prayer and in praxis means openness to conversion to new possibilities, new ways of ministering, new ideas of advocacy work, new ways in which God might be communicating to us about how best to serve others. This is particularly true in the mundane work that goes on or in the troubling reality of budget shortages, lack of resources and burnout.

Therefore, a part of the answer to ‘what should I do for Christ?’ is: be open to the voice of Christ in history – in the reality of the crucified of history. For the parish: what is the particular reality of the community and what is the greater global reality? How must we engage it? How must we continue to engage it when it is difficult and when we might even be persecuted?

This is theological reflection that thus provides a buttress for a solidarity network among Jesuit parishes – to seek one another in the strength that comes from community in Christ. The openness to doing for Christ, for being open to conversion is a task for an individual certainly, but even more importantly, for a group in solidarity with one another and with the poor.

Disclaimer

Part of my blogging naivete is realizing that perhaps I should make clear that this blog is a space for speculative reflection and thus does not necessarily represent the views of the Ignatian Solidarity Network, although in many cases it clearly resonates with their principles. This blog acts as a blank canvas for me to experiment with ideas and thus also can be regarded as a work in progress where I might stretch and bounce around ideas, speak favorably for some and then disregard them later, or introduce random ideas to see how they match and interact with one another.

Alright, I feel better now.

Passion

Over the course of the week, I have managed to have a couple conversations with folks who work in Jesuit parishes and deal directly with the social ministries at the parish. The conversations were somewhat directed by some questions that I have regarding how best to get Jesuit parishes to talk to one another:

-Do you think you would talk to one another, given the opportunity and the availability of a space for doing so?

-What does it mean to be a part of a Jesuit parish as opposed to a parish run by other religious orders or the diocese? Put another way: what is distinctive about being a Jesuit parish and how does that shape your social ministry?

-What are the benefits of having a network? What needs would this fulfill?

These questions are not terribly exciting; I realize that! But they are important and lead to the excitement that I encountered with one person I contacted (refered to as "J"). During the course of our conversation, I asked her about if being a Jesuit parish mattered. J answered with an exasperated, YES! And went on to add that at her parish, there is determination to be socially aware and active in the community. They offer various services, or at least provide resources for people to get access to those services, and are sadly ill-equiped to deal with the mounting needs that exist in the community. She added that the other parishes in the area were not doing nearly enough. With regards to social justice education, she quipped: "Catholic Social Teaching never gets mentioned anywhere else from my observations." This last point resonated with a comment I heard during an undergraduate course in Social Ethics that Catholic Social Teaching is the best-kept secret in the Church. The truth of such a statement is somewhat humorous at first glance, but becomes somewhat disheartening and frustrating when one considers the invaluable wealth available within our Catholic tradition to try to analyze the social problems before us.

A further point that J made was that a huge need she saw for why a network between Jesuit parishes would be beneficial was the prospect of greater solidarity. Solidarity, in this case, fits in quite well with the Vision of the Ignatian Solidarity Network:

Grounded in the spiritual vision of St. Ignatius of Loyola and committed to “the gospel of Jesus Christ in which faith and justice are undivided” (Pedro Arrupe, S.J.), the Ignatian Solidarity Network (ISN) unites Jesuit institutions and the broader Ignatian family for a transformative experience of solidarity.

Inspired by the witness of the Salvadoran martyrs, ISN is committed to serving the next generation of leaders who will shape the church’s work for faith-justice. ISN strives to create a community of empowered individuals and institutions rooted in Christian faith, committed to Gospel justice, and united in a common purpose.

I truly believe that we have an opportunity here at ISN to strengthen and deepen our community in solidarity if we include Jesuit parishes. J's own experience at her parish - including great challenges and frustrations as well as joy and success - is something that she wishes to share with others across the country. If we at ISN provide space, the directors of social ministry could have a place to build solidarity and be truly empowered by and empowering for others. And they would be united in the Gospel, the vision of Ignatius and towards the common pursuit of justice and peace.

Of course, ideas like this sound good on paper (or on a blog!), but require creativity, time and collaboration to find their way into the concrete. But this insight into the power of solidarity in the midst of overwhelming social injustice and struggles can produce hope if we trust in the Spirit of Christ to guide it.

Starting Out

I must admit at the outset that I am not a 'blogger'. In fact, for those who know me well, I tend to occasionally lash out against blogging, although it usually in response to the fact that so many truly bad blogs exist. But I do recognize that many good blogs exist; I hope that this blog fits into the latter category.

With such an auspicious preface, I think a word on what I am looking to do with this would be good. I've been brainstorming recently on how best to chronicle my time at the Ignatian Solidarity Network here in San Francisco. I am a Beatitudes Society fellow in the Bay Area from June until the end of July and ISN is my placement. One of my tasks at ISN is to begin developing a network of Jesuit parishes, particularly between their various social ministries. Basically, I am trying to help create something that facilitates conversation, dialogue and mutual sharing of practices among the Jesuit parishes. The task of how to go about doing this is not difficult, but it does require a lot of 'grunt work' - figuring out who (if anyone) is in charge of social ministries at each parish, what sorts of programs they currently run, and also trying to figure out a way not to burden these folks with yet another thing that they have to do. And even before these tasks can be addressed, gathering information on what we desire for this network is important.

At the 2010 Ignatian Family Teach-In, a group of people (some from parishes, some from the ISN board of directors and others who were interested in the topic) gathered in a breakout session to discuss what a Jesuit Parish Social Justice Network would look like. Since beginning my time here at ISN, I have had the opportunity and privilege of talking further with some of these group members about their ideas for the network. The initial group discussion and now the ongoing communication between people provides a good initial effort to collaborate on this project. If the network is to survive at all, it must arise out of collaboration and continue collaborative work.

So far, I have given a very brief summary of the nuts and bolts of the project which is important, but also a bit dry. As I was thinking about how this blog would best help flesh out this project, I figured some theological reflection would help. And I turned to one of my favorite theologians, Ignacio Ellacuría, SJ.*

For those who aren't familiar with Ellacuría's life, he was the Rector (i.e. president) of the UCA (University of Central America - a Jesuit university in San Salvador) during the turbulent years of the Salvadoran Civil War (throughout the 1980s). Ellacuría often spoke out boldly against the social, political and economic injustice that was occurring throughout the country and even left the country twice for his own safety. However, he was eventually killed along with 5 of his Jesuit brothers, their housekeeper and her daughter on November 16th, 1989. The spirit of Ellacuría and the other UCA martyrs of '89 has been a large part of my life and studies since I first encountered them in college as a freshman. And in one of those quirky grace-filled moments, I discovered this opportunity to work for ISN as an opportunity to work for an organization that also breathes from the same spirit of the '89 UCA martyrs in its work. It is out of this confluence of interests that I am here at ISN working on this project.

One piece of writing by Ellacuría immediately came to mind as an accessible entry way into his thought and its connection to the Jesuit Parish Network. This is not easy to do given the difficulty of his writing and the unavailability of much of his writing in English (see his essay: "The Church as Historical Sacrament of Liberation" and you will know what I mean!). The piece of writing is Ellacuría's commencement address that he gave in 1982 at Santa Clara University while accepting an honorary degree. The key question he posed to the students and the university itself that day was: what should a genuine Catholic, Jesuit university be doing in and for the world?

In many ways, his speech raised again the difficult question that Pedro Arrupe, SJ asked Jesuit university and high school alumni in his famous speech in 1973:

"First, let me ask this question: Have we Jesuits educated you for justice? You and I know what many of your Jesuit teachers will answer to that question. They will answer, in all sincerity and humility: No, we have not. If the terms 'justice' and 'education for justice' carry all the depth of meaning which the Church gives them today, we have not educated you for justice."

Arrupe's answer is quite negative, but in a way that opens out into a discussion of how the Jesuits could improve their educational method for seeking justice in the world. In a similar vein, Ellacuría asked Arrupe's initial question, but left the answer open as an invitation to Santa Clara University and all Jesuit universities to consider the two functions of a Catholic, Jesuit university:

"The first and most evident is that it deals with culture, with knowledge, the use of the intellect. The second, and not so evident, is that it must be concerned with the social reality--precisely because a university is inescapably a social force: it must transform and enlighten the society in which it lives. But how does it do that? How does a university transform the social reality of which it is so much a part?"

Ellacuría admits that each university's response will be different because the reality in which each university finds itself will always differ to some extent. What is inspiring is that El Salvador's reality of oppression and violence against the poor majority is the precise reality that Ellacuría and the UCA attempt to address and transform - amid bombings on campus, the death of a student and what will eventually be Ellacuría's own death. At the end of his speech, Ellacuría asks, and 'how can you help us?' His question speaks primarily for the people of El Salvador and the work of the UCA, but I think it can be extended to the masses of poor and oppressed throughout the world. His answer speaks to our vocation as Christians:

"And how do you help us? That is not for me to say. Only open your human heart, your Christian heart, and ask yourselves the three questions Ignatius of Loyola put to himself as he stood in front of the crucified world: What have I done for Christ in this world? What am I doing now? And above all, what should I do? The answers lie both in your academic responsibility and in your personal responsibility."

Certainly, Ellacuría's words offer a difficult challenge to Jesuit (as well as Catholic and Christian) universities and colleges, but I think I link can be drawn to the work of Jesuit parishes. Certainly, the Jesuit parishes of the United States serve different communities that vary in their socio-economic, cultural, and political elements, yet the boldfaced portion of the quote (which is one of Ellacuría's favorite passages of St. Ignatius's Spiritual Exercises - §53) is applicable across each context. And it is clear that for Ellacuría, it is not enough to simply feed the intellect in order to provide graduates with opportunities for jobs. Similarly, Jesuit parishes cannot simply center themselves on prayer and liturgy to the exclusion of social ministry. Discerning how best to respond to one's situation - which is always in need of some transformation - requires discerning before Christ who remains crucified in the oppressed of history with an eye toward the hope of resurrection.

So the question I hold before me looking forward at the scope of this network and its possibilities is: how will this Jesuit Parish Network allow each Jesuit parish and its congregation to 'open their human hearts' to the crucified Christ present in their reality? It is obvious that each Jesuit parish is already doing this work - I certainly don't mean to imply otherwise! Yet the possibilities for ever greater dedication to social justice (for the magis) present this network with an opportunity. This question forms the ground of this project; I hope to till this ground further in the coming weeks.

*For more information on Ignacio Ellacuría's life and thought, see these two books: Ground Beneath the Cross: The Theology of Ignacio Ellacuría by Kevin Burke, SJ and Love that Produces Hope: The Thought of Ignacio Ellacuría ed. by Kevin Burke, SJ and Robert Lassalle-Klein.