Give the Gift of Self-Sufficiency this Holiday Season

Getting an ID can help people take crucial first steps towards self-sufficiency. Without it, you can’t get food stamps, apply for a job or housing, secure healthcare, enroll kids in school, visit a sick child in the hospital, get a library card, or even vote.

Recently a man came to RS who desperately wanted to work but didn’t have the ID required to complete a job application. He had so much he wanted to be … but without his ID he was trapped. He had been living out of his car, trying to start over again. But when his car was stolen so was nearly everything he owned, including his ID.

“Without an ID people are left vulnerable, unable to prove who they are, and are cut-off from privileges, services, and even rights,” Fr. Justin Mathews pointed out in his recent blog, “Beyond the Vote: Why You Should Care About Access to IDs.”

It only costs about $25 to pay for an ID. However, for many of our clients, the cost and the lack of understanding of the process puts that ID just out of their reach.

This year RS launched the “I’D BE Campaign” and helped over 800 people secure ID’s and take that first step towards self-sufficiency. Your generous gifts enabled caring RS staff to evaluate needs, work together with clients to navigate the complicated application process, secure needed documentation, and provide a voucher to pay for their IDs.

Please consider giving a gift this holiday season that could change the course of someone’s life.

Will you donate $25, $50, $100 or even more to help at least one person get their ID? Join the I’D BE Campaign today and sponsor someone’s chance to be employed, educated, housed, healthy, involved.

Article by Fr. Justin Mathews, Executive Director of Reconciliation Services.

Thank you—together we have achieved incredible things!

As we near the last couple months of 2016, it strikes me how exceptional last year was and so I'm so excited to share all that you made possible!

With the launch of this new website, thousands have joined our cause and subscribed to ‘Venerate’, our compelling bi-monthly e-newsletter. In 2015, your support helped expand Emergency Services staff to include a full-time intake specialist and two new full-time case managers; Self-Sufficiency Services grew too and helped reveal the strengths of our vibrant community by providing group therapy to 62 women and individual therapy to 24 women. We also launched our RS Internet Café, transforming Troost from a dividing line into a gathering place where 687 people found a place to belong while participating in our "digital survival" classes, enjoying coffee, computers and gigabit internet. 

A SnAP Women's Therapy Class with Program Manager Sylvia Goodloe, LMSW pictured top center.

Our economic community building programs connected hundreds to stable income and meaningful work. The Foster Grandparents program mobilized an army of 100 low-income senior citizens who volunteered over 91,000 hours in 30 schools to mentor at-risk children. For the 12th year, RS served as fiscal sponsor for the Troost Festival to foster friendships and dialogue across Troost Avenue. In November, RS Social Ventures, Inc.—a C-Corporation and wholly-owned subsidiary of RS—was established to create new jobs for our community and to enhance our sustainability. 

On behalf of those we serve, thank you for your generosity, prayers and encouragement as you have so faithfully given to support our work! If you'd like to read our 2015 Annual Report in its entirety you can do so here.

Article by Fr. Justin Mathews, Executive Director of Reconciliation Services.
 

Veneration and the Hidden Redline

When I was a child my siblings and I used to divide our playroom with masking tape to keep each other out. Now as a father of three boys I see my children doing the same thing. Why is the instinct to separate and divide ourselves from each other so strong? You've likely heard of a form of legal division in real estate development in the US called “redlining” which began in the 1930’s. At that time, literal red lines were drawn on city maps. Development proposals and home appraisals divided our cities into so-called desirable and undesirable investment zones. The real purpose was to limit investment to artificial boundaries so minority communities and the white majority could live legally integrated while functionally hyper-segregated. The practice of redlining may no longer be legal, but we are still finding ways to separate from each other.

The by-product of redlined investment was sharp disinvestment that cut deep social and economic divisions into the heart of our city, the scars of which can still be seen along Troost and in our community today. While beautiful new plazas, suburbs and public amenities were developed on one side, the other side of the redline saw development of a whole other kind, hidden from the view of the majority. Redlining built communities where traumatic life events are so common they are considered a rite of passage for some children. Redlining paved financial dead end roads that led to sweeping economic stagnation when businesses closed and jobs went south, figuratively and literally in KC. Redlining landscaped a built-environment of social instability that eventually fractured the pillars of traditional community foundations from the internal and external pressures caused by poverty, fear and hyper-segregation.

Born in the late 70’s it's hard for me to imagine a society where this all made sense. In my work at RS I have tried to distinguish my perspective and my belief about people who are different from me from the beliefs of previous generations. In all honesty however, as I have worked in struggling low-income communities, I have come to recognize there is much inherited partiality in my heart still needing to be healed. In tense moments I catch myself wanting to find a way to control others or push people away. I am tempted to treat people as though they are an interruption rather than a neighbor. There is a hidden redline in my heart. I do not intend to draw it, but it is there, inky and bold. Maybe you have seen this hidden redline in your heart too?

The redline in my heart doesn’t appear as classic racism or focus attention on certain people; its boundaries frequently surprise me. Sometimes the redline has to do with issues related to someone’s religion, cultural values, dress, speech, attitude, etc. I will attest, when the redline appears it is demanding and dogmatic. It is as if a person’s mere presence threatens what I believe, my sense of self and what I know to be true. Sometimes it feels like the ground would quake if the tremor of emotion could escape the laces of my shoes. Sometimes I want to lash out and make the redline loud and clear - you and I are different! Why is this instinct to separate from each other so strong?

I recently finished a book by a modern Orthodox Christian monk, Elder Thaddeus, who said, “Everything, both good and evil, comes from our thoughts. Our thoughts become our reality.”  While reading this book I was reminded that it is not actually an instinct that compels me to want to separate from others who are unlike me - the tendency to redline is not a part of my God-given nature - but the redline is a product of entertaining a whirlpool of negative thoughts, conscious and unconscious, about another person or their community. The redline in my heart is a result of the sinful thoughts I cultivate and these thoughts have the power to shape my reality. 

I have asked myself what to do about this problem. Can I erase the redline in my heart? Can I really change the way I think about the complex and difficult people or places I encounter? If so, how? I have come to believe that this side of heaven only the greatest saints erase the redline - people like Mother Teresa, St. Maria of Paris, St. John of Kronstadt are a few modern examples. I know from these Holy ones that there is more I can do to erase this sinful division between myself and the other, but it takes real work and intentionality.

A prominent architectural feature of Orthodox Christian churches, the iconostasis, is a contrasting type of division to the division created by the redline, but the iconostasis has helped me understand what to do about the hidden redline in my heart. 

The Iconostasis is a wall of sorts that partitions the sanctuary, where the priest stands before the altar, from the nave, where the faithful stand to sing and pray. On the iconostasis hangs icons of Christ, Mary, St. John the Baptist and other holy men and women. I remember the first time I attended an Orthodox church service how troubled I was by the iconostasis. I saw it as a dividing line separating the clergy and the laity, like a redline in the church. When I spoke to my priest about the iconostasis he challenged me to change my thinking. 

He said, “try not to see it as a dividing line but as an acknowledgement of the division between God and man that was created by man’s sin. Face the iconostasis,” he continued, “and pray deeply ...The icons adorning the iconostasis, those holy men and women, are the proof of the possibility of real transformation and reconciliation with God, and with others.” He was saying that the iconostasis does not function to divide us but to make present the possibility of our ultimate reconciliation through acknowledging and facing the division that exists.

I was totally blown away by this explanation! Over the years as I’ve prayed in church facing the iconostasis I have discovered how this holy partition functions just as he said, as a place of meeting, transformation and reconciliation.

Although the iconostasis is a holy symbol of reconciliation and the hidden redline in my heart is a sinful symbol of division, the idea that I have taken away from the iconostasis is this: I will only be transformed by acknowledging and facing the redline in my heart and praying to Christ for healing grace. I can’t simply ignore it or think cultural diversity training or some other program will erase it. It is a human stain too deeply imbedded within my thoughts for simple solutions. I must acknowledge and face the division that exists within. That is what RS is all about for me, a place where the dividing line is acknowledged and faced, prayed before and transformed by grace so that the true strength in each person can be revealed. With every gift given, every act of service delivered, every job created, I am given the opportunity to acknowledge and face the redline in my heart and to love the other in front of me, whoever they are. I want to be more like the saints on the iconostasis. Their witness encourages me to press on towards the goal.

So when I meet that difficult person and my thoughts begin to race as the redline is drawn, I pray for help to seize the opportunity, to see the person in front of me as a living icon, someone to venerate not someone to push away.  And in choosing not to redline the other by acknowledging and facing the division in my heart on a daily basis I believe we can find real healing and transformation together.

Article by Fr. Justin Mathews, Executive Director of Reconciliation Services.

Paying Attention is a Form of Veneration

Recently I tried something dangerous with my sons: forging! Fires ablaze, molten hot steel, and heavy hammers wielded by an 11 and 13 year old; not usually a recipe for a successful outing but the Boy Scout troop we are a part of decided to give it a try last weekend. Like the other dads, I was brimming with manly excitement on the day the campout began. I knew nothing of forging but I made a quick study on youtube and purposed to pound out three railroad spike knives and a few great memories with the boys. However, in the process of working on our first project something happened. Through it I learned three valuable lessons about the importance of cultivating my attention rigorously in order to live a life of love and veneration.

After our first few blows against the cold anvil steel, I placed our railroad spike in the flame of the forge to heat up again. I then turned to reposition the tools but by the time I turned back, half of the spike had melted away! One minute we were making a blade worthy of the Dwarfs of the Lonely Mountain, the next all we had was a molten twig like the leftovers from a sparkler on the 4th of July! In an instant I learned that when you are forging, nothing, not one thing, can overtake your attention.  

Cultivate attention to preparation
Here in lies my first lesson. I should have spent more time surveying the setup, prepare the tools, and coordinating roles with my son before we began. The Scripture says in Luke 14:28, “For which of you, desiring to build a tower, does not first sit down and count the cost, whether he has what is needed to complete it?” Attention to preparation is an essential part of any work worth undertaking but I was too excited to slow down and prepare properly. Additionally, my son’s excitement to get started was hard to resist. Like a young man with zeal but little knowledge, I thrust the project into the fire before all was prepared and ultimately paid the price. I believe this lesson is as true in forging as it is in my work, my prayer life, and especially in my relationships. 

Cultivate my attention daily and purposefully
You should have seen the disappointment on my son’s face when he realized that the early form of his blade was now only slag in the fire. Slag is what you dig out of the coal ash when you make a mistake like this—molten rock and metal fused into a useless lump. His disappointment lingered almost as long as the oily soot on his cheeks that day. I felt terrible as if somehow I had caused his distress directly. He tried to hide his frustration as he sat on a stump near the forge but would not speak for a long while. Here is where I learned my second lesson: if I do not cultivate my attention daily and purposefully, accidents happen and these can strain the relationships with those I love the most. Now, I can rationalize this accident, size it up against “real trauma” and say it wasn’t my fault, but I know that would be just another distraction. I needed to pay attention to my son’s disappointment and look into my failing, the slag in the bottom of the forge of my own heart, to remind myself of why deep intentionality with my attention is worth the effort.

Cultivate attention to the state of my heart
As my son and I returned to salvage the project the best we could, another problem arose. It kept taking longer to heat the spike and make it pliable. The fire was quickly waning. A more experienced friend taught us why. In forging, slag builds up over time as a natural process of creating and can plug the fan beneath the flames and kill the fire. A good blacksmith, he said, pays attention to the flame and periodically sifts the coals, dredges up the slag, and removes it. 

As I reflected on this later, I remembered that St. Paul wrote about slag in his letter to the Church in Rome when he said, “All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God...” (Rom 3:23).  Slag builds up in my heart and removing it is critical to keeping the fires of inspiration hot. Simply put, I need to cultivate attention to the state of the flame in the forge of my heart. I know to do this but regularly I let my attention get drawn away by distractions. I know how to remove the slag too. For me this is regular confession to God in quiet reflection daily. I’m embarrassed to admit how difficult it is to make time to do that. In my heart there are projects incomplete, bits of intentions left undone, and parts of prayers dangling mid-sentence—all melted away in moments of distraction. No wonder the fires of inspiration flicker somedays! I am so thankful for learning this third lesson.

My wife has a quote on the chalkboard in our house by Simone Weil, a French philosopher, Christian mystic, and political activist, that says, “Attention is the purest form of generosity.” I appreciate that reminder. Learning to cultivate my attention is a form of charity, veneration and love that takes sacrifice and practice, especially in my work at RS and with my family. 

There are so many exciting projects but without attention to preparation, accidents will happen. There are people who count on me and our RS team daily who are struggling to survive and succeed, and without my cultivating attention daily I will inadvertently disappoint and fail those who I care for the most and finally, I need to lead by example in cultivating attention to my heart and removing the slag to keep the flame burning hot enough to be effective. There is no greater gift I can give myself and those I love than well cultivated attention. 

By the end of the weekend my sons and I had completed three railroad spike knives and polished them to a brilliant shine. We were exhausted but I had learned a lot about an ancient art and the cultivation of my attention as an act of generosity, love, and veneration.

Article by Fr. Justin Mathews, Executive Director of Reconciliation Services.