Instead of Writing a Cover Letter

Yesterday I realized that Lima was normal for me.  I have known this for a while, but yesterday it hit me hard.  Maybe this is because-sad to say-I have been thinking (or avoiding thinking) about returning to the States in February, and hence forth thinking about what is normal/ has been/ will be, etc... Normal is not perfect, it is not always what I want, it is not always something that I want to stay as is, but it is something that I experience and connect to my life here.  Regardless, for me, as of yesterday, this was normality:

-The San Juan boys.  I have been with them since February, and one since last September.  They have been the main part of my ministry, life in Ciudad.  
-All of the Ciudad boys.
-Joyful encounters with the boys
-Frustrating conversations with the boys
-Life-Giving conversations with the same boys
-Boys screeming Mikey! Hermano Mikey! Hermano Michael! HER-MA-NO MI-CH-AEL.... (Gracias Niño Jesús chicos) 
-The volunteers, past and present.  Laura, Ryan, Laura, Ben, Jeanette, Tania, Hannah, Harriet, Rosanna, Evie, Christoph, Jess, Jenn, Isabella, Sonja, Cossima, Jocelyn.  Constant gratitudes to all of them.
-Did we really think of that? Are we going to do that? We are doing it.
-Prayer nights, turned into community nights, turned into CC-Time! (Cap Corps Time)
-Cake days
-Greeting from the tutors, staff, hermanos, mothers and fathers
-Hermana Vita: "Hermano Michael, you should really cut/comb your hair..."
-Coffee flowing.  Healthy eating turned into cookie baking.
-Rice, potatoes, bread, and beans (still haven't put on weight)
-Mangos! Four for less than a dollar! Can't get better than that... but, wait, 4 avocados for less than a dollar! Paradise...
-The hills of Lima
-Poverty.  Frustrating family lives.
-How did you spend your salida? Internet, television, more internet.  Get a book to read!
-Alabanza songs and the constant urge to dance to them
-The craving for Ceviche, Anticuchos, Chicha Morada
-Crowded combis and the occasional and blessed empty one
-Stray dogs (don't even realize they are there these days)
-Overcast, cloudy skies.  A white sheet tossed over Lima.  Sun! Well, some cloud cover wouldn't hurt...
-Huayno music coming from the peñas outside of Ciudad 
-A sense of removal
-A sense of belonging
-A sense of wanting to scream and leave
-A sense of only wanting to be there, in this place, in this beautiful moment
-A sense that the only thing I want to do is love
-A sense that that is not enough; a sense that that is exactly what this broken world needs
-Interior debates about the role of the Church in Lima, Peru, Latin America, the World
-Humility when I am told that God will judge me not on how I judge how others live out the gospel but on how I live out the gospel.  Humility, to know that I do not know everything... far from knowing a lot... anger when I am certain that we are far removed from the gospel call to love.  Peace of mind meeting people who live out this love no matter the challenges.  You are inspirations, exemplars, challengers, and you make a doubting heart remember that the preferential option for the poor is still lived out here.  
-Meeting people who name drop Gustavo Gutierrez.  Being able to name drop him myself!
-Realizing that the theology of liberation is not something that is stuck in the past meant to be studied, but something that is being lived and changing every day.  Astonishment that people my age are creators of their own theology of liberation.
-Being challenged to open myself up.  Seeing the complexity and richness of the Catholic tradition.  Realizing that I still have a lot more spiritual growing to do
-"Wait, wait, let's hold on a bit..." tell myself that too many times... is that bad?
-Wake up calls in the study hall
-Accomplishment when I can get and explain math
-Remorse that I have resigned to trying to understand chemistry
-Amazement that one day can produce joy, sadness, frustration, happiness, humor, stress, annoyance, a feeling of love, and a desire to want more.

This and so much more.  I love this place.  I have been changed by this place.  And I am not ready to leave this place.  Luckily I still have time.

paz, bien, y amor.

Michael

Good Reflection

Reflection from Fr. James Martin, S.J. on today's Gospel.  

"Today's Gospel: "It will be hard for one who is rich to enter the Kingdom of Heaven," Jesus says today. "Again I say to you: It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for one who is rich to enter the Kingdom of Heaven." 

"The more I've thought about this passage over the years, the more it seems that Jesus is not being condemnatory, as he is simply stating a fact. It's not that he hates rich people as much as he pities them. His ministry is always about compassion. 

"Why does he pity them? Because he knows that the more someone is tied to wealth (or possessions or status or power) the less one is tied to God. In his classic text "The Spiritual Exercises." St. Ignatius Loyola talked about "disordered attachments." We can all become "attached" to something like the desire for wealth, or physical well-being, or advancing up the corporate ladder in a way that is not "ordered" towards God. How do we know when our attac

hments are "disordered"? When they prevent us from moving closer to God, from loving more and from being free. Anything that prevents us from following God, as Jesus tells the "rich young man," in another Gospel passage, needs to be relinquished. The rich young man knows this. That's why in the story, he "goes away sad."

"The disciples know that this is hard. They're not stupid. "Then who can be saved?" they ask. Jesus tells them that they will be able to do this with God's grace. Even the things that we think we cannot possibly live without, turn out to be not so important at all, in the light of God's love.

"Everyone needs some possessions and some money in order to live. Of course. Jesus worked for many years as a carpenter (or craftsman) in Nazareth. He wasn't stupid either. Jesus knew what it meant to earn your "daily bread." But most likely, he also had seen what happens when people cling to wealth. So in today's Gospel, in his typically blunt style, he's telling us what to do: Let go of stuff. Don't be attached to wealth. Be free."

Lima: My Obscure Obsession

This is the blog post I recently wrote for the Cap Corps Midwest blog.  Enjoy!  

I remember last February clearly.  I was “coffee shop hopping” in Omaha, trying to discern, write, and eventually finish my Cap Corps application.  It was a slightly stressful, yet amazingly joyful time in my life.  I knew I wanted to volunteer, and I was near certain that I wanted to be with Cap Corps.  I remember sitting in class, hearing Shelly talk about the program and the Franciscan spirituality that was the heart of all Cap Corps stood for.  I was excited.  My friends kept commenting that the program would be perfect for me; that it had all that I was looking for.  Which it did.  A faith based community and an emphasis on social justice, spirituality and simplicity.  I was set.  Well, not quite.  I was always at odds about whether I wanted to volunteer internationally or domestically.  Then I was at odds about whether I really was called to go to Lima.  I kept doubting.  I kept questioning myself.  I wondered if Ciudad de los Niños was the place for me.  I thought, “would I get to know the real Perú if I was living in the walled-in city of Ciudad?”  When I came to Lima, I found out that all my doubts and reservations could be put to rest.  Now, seven months into my time, I am coming to find within Lima, within Ciudad, something that is pulling me. 

Lima is a city I have grown to love.  Yet, I have no idea why.  Last week I was talking with a friend who has spent years in Lima.  Asking me why I loved the city, I could not respond with any clear reason, except for the fact that there is something here that moves me, that gives me life, that confuses me, that makes me want to understand more.  He could relate.  Lima is not the most glamorous of cities.  It is a city of 9 million people, settled in a desert, with only two seasons—cold and overcast, or hot with a strong sun.  Inequality is a great word to describe it.  Sandy Pueblos jovenes are contrasted by pristine parks, paved roads, and gated apartments.   The view from my apartment is sand hills filled with haphazardly built houses; one next to another, a constant reminder of the realities of this city and country.  Traffic is constant.  Ancient cars from the 80’s and 90’s spew fumes out as they make death-defying merges in traffic.  Horns sounding.  People yelling.  Stray dogs barking.  Quite the soundtrack.  Crime in the city has made people suspicious of one another.  An article in a Peruvian newspaper, El Comerico, stated that only 25% of Limanians trust their neighbors.  As you can see, glamorous.

But why do I love it?  A few ideas have crossed my mind as I have thought about this.  One of them is that it is complex and rich in experience.  Modern Lima was formed by mass migration from the selva y sierra because of extreme poverty and violence connected to the Shinning Path.  People saw Lima in terms of their own survival.  They believed that if they came here they would be safe—which was almost true—and that they would find some sort of economic balance.  Because of this migration, there is this complexity that has attached itself the life of the city.  People came from all parts of the country, bringing with them all that made them who they were.  Some of it beautiful, some tragic.  A few days ago, I was walking in the market close to Ciudad.  While getting dish soap, I started to talk with the shopkeeper, Olga.  We started off with simple conversation.  “Where are you from?”, “What are you doing in Lima?”.  Then she started to open up and tell me her life.  She talked as though she was withholding her story, waiting for someone to share it with.  It was tragic.  She is from Ayacucho, where the Shinning Path was started and focused.  The violence from the Shinning Path, and military resistance was centered there.  She told me how, 25 years later, she is still traumatized by all that she saw.  She said her pain was passed onto her son, who has been ill since he was a child.  Her pain is something that is a constant in Lima.  She said it best by saying that, from the outside, this pain can be overlooked, but when you talk, a whole world is opened up before you.  If I were to just walk by and buy soap from a different stand, I would have thought nothing much of her.  She looked happy, energetic.  She was in pain.  During the weekends, families can come to Ciudad to visit their sons.  I see them and I ask to myself, what stories do they hold?  What pain, what trauma do they carry with them?  People on the street, in the market, riding in the combi; what is their story?  Lima is complex, and their stories make it so. 

But it is not all pain.  There is joy, hope, revival that flows through their veins.  They hope for a better life, a better world.  A few nights ago, Ryan, Tania, and me were walking back from a mass in a neighboring town, Villa El Salvador, when the group we were with stopped us and led us to a park near by.  At the park there was a youth group practicing a traditional Ayacuchan dance.  They were there by their own volition.  They were interested in the culture of their family.  Talking with people over the past few months I have found that they love to talk about where they came from.  “In the summer, the fields are deep green.  Fruit and olives everywhere.”  Religious celebrations are revered.  La Candalaria, processions for saints dear to their hearts, devotions.  But the beauty is that they talk of their homeland with reverence, but they have found themselves accustomed and settled with Lima.  Is that just a way of giving up?  Or have they found a home here that they can feel comfortable in?  Maybe both are true.  Whatever the answer may be, these people have fought for this city to be theirs, and in doing so they have made it their own. 

In writing, I still don’t know why I love Lima.  Maybe it is because I am in this new “honeymoon” period, started off by finding new friend and religious communities in Lima.  But I think, and I hope that there is something more to this.  Vamos a ver. 

Paz, bien, y amor.    

Michael Melaniphy

Learning to be Taken in by the Moment

It is amazing what happens when you allow yourself to be taken in by the moment.  This afternoon was a perfect example of that.  For the last month, and for the next few weeks, we have been on summer vacation.  The boys are back home, relaxing, studying, continuing to develop their soccer skills to further humiliate me, along with other diversions.  Therefore, we have an empty Ciudad, and no responsibilities.  Yay!  After a few weeks of travel, I decided to use the final two weeks of break to reorganize my life and prepare myself in all ways for the start of what will appear to be a very busy year.  One such aspect of my life was the spiritual side.  In a place like Ciudad, some sort of spirituality/prayer/reflection is necessary.  Without it, you will get burned out, irritated, or, a favorite of mine, impatient.  I decided that developing a spiritual base outside of Ciudad would be healthy, especially since I already live, work, eat, etc... in Ciudad.  This, so far, has involved finding a parish in Lima and having a spiritual director who is unconnected with Ciudad.  Of course, I will have things that will challenge and develop my spirituality within the walls of Ciudad, such as a place to reflect, write, or pray daily.  I have yet to schedule a spiritual guidance appointment (but I have numbers!), but I have found my parish.  A 20 minute Combi ride (which I can pick up right outside the gates!) brings me to Nuestra Señora de la Paz in Villa El Salvador, an active and connected church, and a life-giving community.  What more does one need?!  

As I said, it is amazing what happens when your are taken in a moment.  Before mass last night at Nuestra Señora de la Paz I was looking out over the dusty landscape that is Villa El Salvador.  I was out, letting my eyes and mind flow wherever they choose.  Any one could have snuck up on me without my notice; that is what happened.  Before knowing, I felt the bar I was leaning on shake, only to discover that the person behind the movement was a 12 year old girl who immediately went into questioning me about anything and everything.  "Where are you from?", "What is your name?", "Do you know how to swim?" (there were two pools next to the school used for summer workshops, and we were close enough to the beach, so it was a pertinent question).  Then from there the discussion went from her questioning me to her divulging details of her life from her dislike of math (she was in a math workshop instead of the swimming one-that would cause many to resent a subject), what she liked to do for fun, her admiration of her math teacher, who, to her amusement, was in love with math (who knew?), and her admitting, denying, and admitting again that she cheated on tests.

I don't write this account merely because it is a fun tale, or that it was the start of a very life-giving night-but you may take it as such, if you desire, for there is truth in that.  I tell it because it was a humbling experience that reflects all of my failures of the last few months at Ciudad.  My ministry at Ciudad is very much a ministry of presence.  I work as a mentor for boys who, because of their backgrounds, put up walls between their history and those they encounter-especially the tall, awkward gringo, who, on very bright days blinds people because of his very pale skin (shows that I do wear sun screen, mom).  To accompany boys such as the ones I work with, one needs patience.  They wont let you into their lives, or even partially into their lives if you do not give yourself to them, break down any pedestals that you think you may stand on, and become humble.  And, after all that, you cannot make them come to you, only they can choose.  Get where patience comes in?  One of my failures of the past few months was that I was not patient; I assumed that if I was in the pabellón enough that eventually boys would be lining up to have my ear.   I imagine someone putting a stand out like Lucy's psychiatry stand from Peanuts would have more success than I had.  Henri Nouwen says that for a person engaged in ministry, the best they can do is admit their own brokenness, humble themselves, and bring them to equal levels as the people they are ministering to.  I am broken, you are broken, let us learn from one other and journey together.  To return to the story from last night, this 12 year old entered into my life when I was vulnerable.  I was lost in thought, I had put down all of my own walls, and she saw that.  Of course, she could have been an extremely extraverted girl who was curious about the new visitor to the parish.  But there is something in this.  I wasn't trying to be anyone; I wasn't acting in an authority position, I wasn't pretending to do something, I was just there, lost, present, open for anyone.  We shall see if it will have the same affect with the boys.  ¡Vamos a ver!  


paz, bien, y amor.  


Michael