Blessed Are Those Who Reconcile

When my family moved to the urban core of KC over three years ago, friends and family cautioned us, “It is more dangerous over there!” Some said, “It isn’t safe!” The narrative of our part of the City had been told in terms of its crime and instability.

The neighborhood alerts on our community boards do sometimes reach a fever pitch, announcing another suspicious person, another break in, or worse. But it’s the city. We expect that, right?

Violent acts and violent rhetoric seem to dominate our landscape. From suicide bombings in far off places to murderous rampages and vehement speech closer to home, violence presses in on us. We turn on the news or browse the headlines expecting it, even looking for it. It seems inevitable to us that certain places or certain people would be violent.

But violence is as close as our own hearts.

I have cringed at the sound of a mother berating her child at the bus stop. I have called the police when the argument heard coming from a nearby house sounded like it was turning dangerous or if I heard gun shots closer than I’d like. I have taken an alternate route on my walk when I encountered two women shouting and degrading one another. Yes, violence is pressing in, but it is also pressing out.

In 1 John 3:15 it says that, “anyone who hates his brother is a murderer.” That isn’t some flowery metaphor or shocking image. It is fact. An act of hate is murder.

So what makes me different from the mother berating her child at the bus stop? Nothing, really. I despise her behavior. I despise what she represents. I despise how she treats her child. Therefore, I despise her, hate her, murder her in my heart.

In the end I put myself in the place of judgement over these violent “others” and assume that they are just degenerates and perpetrators, forgetting that their story is most definitely one of victimhood as well, with complicated and traumatic stories that have played out time and time again.

So how do we battle violence?

Reconciliation.

Gentleness, forgiveness and reconciliation. These are the weapons we must use.

We see examples not only in the Bible but in Christian saints, modern day activists, and mystical teachers—of how peace can disarm violence. St. Seraphim of Sarov, a Russian saint entreated, “Acquire the Spirit of Peace and a thousand souls around you will be saved.” We see in the Beatitudes in Matthew 5:9 in the Bible, “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.”

Peace is this thing that we must acquire, hunt down, work for, struggle to maintain. We are urged to close the gap between ourselves and others in peace and reconciliation. Blessed are the peacemakers. Blessed are those who reconcile.

It seems an overwhelming proposition to me to take on a violent culture, the vehement rhetoric of today’s warmongers, the institutions and religions that perpetrate violence. That is why I must make my most strategic battlefield my own heart. This is where I begin my struggle to overcome violence. From there, who knows what may come!

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Article by Jodi Mathews

Casting Out Fear: Perfect Love and Veneration

Most children are afraid of the dark. Places that, when lit, are normally benign and ordinary, take on a foreboding quality in the darkness. The stairwell to the basement is the lair of ogres and monsters poised to snatch the ankles of the poor soul tasked with retrieving the family's Christmas decorations or a pound of meat from the storage freezer. The darkness is home to all manner of terrors conjured by the unknown.

I have a vivid memory of the first time I became aware of my fear of the dark. I was around eight years old. Of course, I had experienced fear of the dark prior to this moment, but I distinctly remember acknowledging my fear as something I could combat. I had awoken from sleep in the middle of the night by an urgent need to use the toilet. My room was located on the opposite end of a long and dark hallway that led to the bathroom. I dreaded the long walk to the toilet as if it were through the valley of the shadow of death itself! In reality, the distance was probably only a few meters. As I walked down the hall, I could feel the fear creeping up my back and materialize as a dark presence stalking my movements. For some reason, despite my anxiety and the cries of pain radiating from my bladder, I resolved to confront my fear. I resisted the urge to sprint down the hall and deliberately walked slowly. Part of me was attempting to convince myself that there wasn’t really anything to fear in the dark. Another part of me was challenging the darkness, the demons, and whatever other monsters lurked behind me and in the shadows. “Do your worst,” I whispered to the darkness, all the while hoping that nothing would do anything, especially not the worst. After what seemed to take several aeons, I arrived safely in the refuge of the bathroom and relieved myself. It was the bravest moment of my life.

Fyodor Dostoyevsky, through the mouth of a wisened elder in Brothers Karamazov observed, “[F]ear is simply the consequence of every lie” (Brothers Karamazov, 58) While it seems a little harsh to say that my childhood self was afraid of the dark as a consequence of lies, I certainly was afraid of fictions created by my imagination. Fear rears its menacing head when the unknown is filled with lies or untruths.

1 John 4:18 says that “perfect love casts out fear.” I have often wondered what is meant by perfect love in this passage. In verse 12, John says, “No one has seen God at any time. If we love one another, God abides in us, and His love has been perfected in us.” God’s love is perfected, or completed, in us when we love one another. God’s love is complete when it is participated in. This is a profound statement and lies at the heart of the mission of RS to venerate the living icons of God in our community. John says that no one has seen God but that we abide in God when we love. Loving the other is a way of “seeing” the invisible God. John takes this idea so far as to say that no one can love God when he doesn’t love his brother. Loving one another is loving God. This is the perfect love that casts out fear: the love of the other.

I am not all that different from my eight-year-old self. I still fear the darkness, but instead of the darkness in the bathroom hall, it is the darkness of my ignorance. When someone walks into RS behaving strangely or is dealing with life challenges that seem insurmountable, I am gripped by fear. When I alienate someone I radically disagree with in politics, faith, or philosophy, I am gripped by fear. Like a child, I make monsters out of people when I imagine what resides in the darkness. But, as Dostoyevsky said, this fear is produced by a lie – a lie I create. My fear of the other is birthed from a lack of relationship, a void filled with assumptions and untruths. This fear is cast out when I receive God’s perfect love and choose acts of veneration - respect and honor toward others.

Veneration is best practiced in much the same way I combatted my fear of the dark as a child. In order to see others as living icons of God, I need grace to slow down, to challenge the darkness of my ignorance and to listen. Although it may be uncomfortable and every part of me may long to run away in terror, perfect love would have me linger. Perfect love—the love of God extended to me and to those around me—desires to illumine my darkness. Perfect love invites me into relationship with those that I fear; it invites me to see God.

Article by Jonathan Reavis

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.

Veneration as Celebration

As a mother of three boys, I know the power of celebration. It is one of a mother’s many responsibilities, to celebrate. I rejoice in the accomplishments and milestones of my guys. I watch them grow and learn, always looking for moments to celebrate, to venerate. And when the awards don’t come and the race is not won, I still encourage my kids, I still value them, I still celebrate and venerate them.

It is easy to celebrate a child, especially our own. We see such joy, such potential. We may even see our own strengths and influences in those celebratory moments. And in their innocence and humility, children see little shame in seeking praise. So, we readily celebrate small things. We honor the mundane. We venerate them simply because of who they are.

At Reconciliation Services we talk often of the mission to see each person we come in contact with as a unique person created by God and therefore worthy of veneration, celebration, honor. That word honor is synonymous with both venerate and celebrate.

That connection between celebration as veneration was so tangible to me recently.

It was a very active Friday night meal at RS. It was a cheerful energy, the kind that good food and intense conversation can conjure. Sometimes in that crowd there is a quiet celebration waiting to happen. Sometimes I am blessed enough to get to be in on it.

David walked in and greeted me as he often does.

“Do you remember me?” he asked. “Of course I do, David. I haven’t see you in awhile.” He told me he had a birthday recently. “I turned 52,” he said. I congratulated him of course and told him that I, too, recently had a birthday. He pointed out that I share a birthday with his uncle and then he named several people he knew with birthdays near my own. He recalled each person’s age and birthdate.  “You’re really good at remembering dates,” I told him. “Yeah, people say I am pretty good with numbers,” he said.

Then he reached inside his big winter coat and pulled out an envelope. He opened the envelope, which had his name neatly written on the front. “Would you like to sign my birthday card?” he asked. “Of course I would. Thanks for asking.”

David is a tall, quiet man. There is no arrogance in him. He is guileless and simple and gentle. He often wears multiple coats and carries a black leather satchel. You won’t likely see him without his hat on or a hood pulled up over his head. He is poor. He is homeless.

At first, I felt quite sad for him. Had he been carrying that card around for days just hoping someone would know, would ask to sign it? Only, David wasn’t sad. He was smiling, like he always does, and he was excited to see me sign his card. It wasn’t a sorry attempt at pity or attention. David didn’t announce his birthday to the room full of people gathered for the Friday night free meal at Reconciliation Services. Surely we would have sung to him, congratulated him, patted him on the back. He didn’t make his way around the room adding signature after signature to his precious birthday card. He asked me, just me.

David offered me a personal invitation to know him, to celebrate him. He made himself so vulnerable to me and in turn challenged me to be vulnerable too. I don’t like to feel vulnerable. I like my boundaries. I can serve the Friday night meal with a smile and willingly pour cup after cup of lemonade and wipe table after table. I keep moving. I keep doing.

David’s invitation was immediate and profound. It couldn’t be hurried or brushed aside. He cut right through my walls and said, “See me.” Was he an angel sent by God to test me, to prove me? Was it the voice of God Himself, saying, “I invite YOU”? Perhaps.

I’ve never carried around my own birthday card, seeking signatures. But I do long to be known, to be celebrated. David’s openness really challenged me. It brought me back to that place at my very core that longs to be close to God, to welcome his participation, his presence. Being vulnerable with one another makes this closeness possible--closeness with one another and closeness with God. We return to that celebrated state, that place of veneration, where we honor and are very much honored as well.

Can celebration be as simple as signing a homeless man’s birthday card? Yes, it is a good place to begin.

I remember you David. I see you. Thank you for inviting me to celebrate you, to venerate you. And thank you for venerating and celebrating me also.

Article by Jodi Mathews

Approaching the Homeless as Icons of Christ or as Problems to be Fixed

Sometime last Fall, my wife and I went to see a movie. I cannot recall the film’s title, which might speak to how forgettable it was. The events that transpired after we left the theater however, left a lasting impression in my mind. As we walked toward our car which we left in a grocery store parking lot, we encountered a couple, a man and women in their mid to late forties, asking passers-by for help acquiring the items on their grocery list. The two were homeless, which I gathered from the repeated petition offered to multitudes of disinterested strangers: “Will you help the homeless this evening?” This man and woman were “the homeless,” and I was the “not-homeless.” As the couple approached us, I directed my attention toward the man, a tall, thin figure with tired eyes, and answered his question timidly, “I might be able to. What do you need?” Before he could answer, his companion interjected, “oh no, he doesn’t want to help us.” She obviously picked up on the poorly masked hesitation in my voice. I was used to being asked for money while walking the streets of Kansas City and had prepared myself to resist a sob story that culminated in asking me for whatever spare change I had in my pocket.

The man gestured for his partner to be quiet and went on to explain to me that they were indeed homeless and that they had two kids. He explained that his family hadn’t eaten properly for about a day and hadn’t bathed for longer. He told me that if I could just get them something to eat, and maybe some toothpaste, it would help them out a lot. As he was explaining their situation, the woman watched me skeptically. I was unnerved by her cynicism, but I was even more shaken by the fact that she had called me on my feigned generosity. So, in an effort to prove to her (and perhaps to myself) that I was actually a really caring person, I entered the grocery store, bought a couple boxes of Cliff bars, a tube of toothpaste and a pack of toilet paper, and presented the couple with my offering. The man looked almost surprised that I had actually come back with something and that I hadn’t just pretended like I was going into the grocery story only to find a covert way back to my vehicle. He thanked me with a smile and then timidly asked me if I wouldn’t mind also buying them some soap. In my eagerness to yet again prove my kindness, I bolted for the grocery store doors before the man could finish his sentence. As I entered the store, the woman shouted after me to pick up some soda for the kids, if I could. This last request gave me cause to stop momentarily, but moments later, I emerged with a shopping bag containing two bars of soap and a six pack of orange soda under my arm. As I presented the couple with my second round of gifts however, I was met with looks of disappointment. The couple preferred a two-liter bottle to the six pack and liquid body wash to the bars of soap. I became immediately embarrassed and slightly offended. Why were they being overly demanding and weirdly specific about the things I purchased for them out of the kindness of my heart? In my frustration, I quickly ended our interaction and hurried off to my car explaining that “I had to be somewhere.”

As my wife and I drove away from the parking lot, I reflected on my reaction to the couple’s requests. Then I remembered, from an experience traveling without a guaranteed place to stay, that it was ideal to minimize the clutter I had to carry with me. Perhaps the couple preferred the two liter bottle because it was less unwieldy than six loose cans. Maybe they didn’t want bars of soap because they probably didn’t have a personal bathroom. It’s much easier to carry around a bottle of liquid body wash that has a lid and can be easily stored. It was well into the evening by the time we had encountered the couple. They had likely been asking for help most of the afternoon and had probably been met with mostly cold shoulders and aggressive rejections. Perhaps they weren’t being overly-demanding, they may have just wanted to get what they actually needed when I offered to help.

Most people know what they need, and if they don’t, why would I make assumptions? Christ himself, who by all accounts is the most qualified person to make such judgments, served people first by listening to them. In Matthew 20, when Jesus healed two blind men that were being silenced by the crowd, He listened to them. He ignored the mob and asked, “What do you want me to do for you?” When Jesus met a Samaritan woman in John 4, he first asked her for a drink of water and offered her living water while unpacking her life story. In my interaction with the homeless couple, I didn’t listen to them. I was too distracted by how their need reflected on me and my virtue. I didn’t approach them as people, but as problems to be fixed.

The overarching value that drives the work of RS is veneration–the act of honoring and reverencing everyone as living icons of Christ. Catholic theologian and philosopher Jean Luc Marion makes a profound distinction between icons and idols. He says, “Whereas the idol results from the gaze that aims at it, the icon summons sight in letting the visible be saturated little by little with the invisible” (God Without Being, 19). In other words, idols are static images created by us; icons are persons that bear the presence of God. Idols reflect the image of the self, icons reflect the image of God. I created idols out of the homeless couple when I only saw them as objects of my philanthropy instead of the very presence of Christ.

Regrettably, I don’t remember the names of the couple I met last Fall. At the time, they existed only as members of a category: the homeless, and I made homeless idols from them. I could only hear and see what I wanted to hear and see. But veneration requires that I listen. It requires humility and the admission that I don’t actually know all the facts. It requires patience and an awareness that a person knows their own story better than I do.

I am grateful for what I learned about myself through interacting with this couple. They were a gift to me and a catalyst for a change of heart and attitude within me. My desire is to be able to cast aside the idols of my own insecurity and learn to really venerate the living icons around me.

Article by Jonathan Reavis.

Making a Heartfelt Connection

At Christmas time so many people are moved with compassion to volunteer. They come to help others but often by the end of the meal I hear them say, “I got more out of volunteering than the guests received tonight!”  I know from experience that what may seem like a passing comment is actually a sign of God’s presence. So, I listen in! Often, in moments like these a heartfelt connection is being made between the person who is serving and the people who are being served. This is a connection that can be kindled and can grow with time. Youth volunteers, in moments like these often make heartfelt connections that impact the course of their lives: to believe, to love, to let down defenses, to become a neighbor to someone in need. I want to share a story from my own life that illustrates the point.

I was only seventeen when I left Kansas City one Fall bound for Reynosa, Mexico. I was one of twenty rowdy teenagers traveling in a conversion van loaded with plywood, tools and song books. We were going to Reynosa to build homes for the homeless. Our work site for the next five days would be a dry lake bed that had been turned into a city trash dump. This pile of decaying waste, just across the border from San Antonio TX, served as a squatters camp for the most vulnerable of this little barrio.

Jose and his family lived close to the edge of the dump. He worked odd jobs and his family picked through the trash for recyclables to sell or reuse. They had just enough money to survive but not enough to afford proper shelter. Every night the family of nine crammed into an immobile, beige and rust colored station wagon to sleep. I worked with my friends to build a “house” for Jose’s family. In reality it was little more than the shed my parents used for storing their lawnmower. I felt so good about how we were helping Jose’s family and my part in it. Truth be told however, I had not actually spoken with Jose and I only knew a sketch of his life story from our group leaders. The distance dividing my life from his was vast. In spite of my sincere desire to help and be really present, I realized I didn’t have a heartfelt connection with Jose or his family.

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On our final day in Reynosa, as the last shingle was nailed down on Jose’s new roof, he surprised us by preparing a special meal. On metal folding tables, surrounded by multi-colored plastic chairs, was a spread of food. To us twenty teenagers it seemed like a spread intended for the show Bizarre Foods. There were meats of unknown origin sitting in uncovered dishes in the hot sun. There were sugar cane coca colas in glass bottles, boiled cactus and all manner of other supposedly edible things. Honestly, I was afraid to eat most of it and I wasn’t the only one! Our group leader who sensed a rapidly approaching and, potentially disastrous moment, whispered in English, “You are all going to eat everything on that table and smile! This meal represents months of wages for Jose and his family. They want to eat with you to thank you.” We blessed the food and I cautiously nibbled my first bit of cooked cactus. Soon I was gobbling up the scrumptiously authentic Mexican feast!

As we broke tortillas together and shared a bottle of soda, I felt God’s presence. I realized at that meal there were no longer rich volunteers and a homeless family, we were simply friends breaking bread and giving thanks. Right then my relationship with Jose and my understanding of his “needs” and my role in “helping” radically shifted into proper alignment. As we finished supper and prepared to leave, I was unexpectedly moved to tears and my chest ached hard. I had made the heartfelt connection with Jose that was initially missing between us. I know I received more from Jose and his family than they received from me! I am forever indebted to them.

Do you remember a time when you made a mutual heartfelt connection when serving someone in need? I would love to hear about it. Share your experiences in the comment below.

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

 

Practicing the Art of Thanksgiving

Last Friday I wiped tears and a bit of drool from the unshaven chin of Stevie, an elderly African American Korean war Veteran leaning against his walker as he sobbed and said, “I still love you…” He wavered as he watched a much younger woman wearing a blonde wig get on the bus in front of RS at 31st and Troost. I wasn’t sure of their connection but I was sure of my role in that moment: to help him begin to give thanks in the midst of his circumstances to overcome his sadness. Stevie and I went inside and sat down to eat a hot meal together.

Thanksgiving is a powerful weapon against sadness when practiced well. It is a way of life and a worldview. Some even say it is what we were created to do - to give thanks. But I will be the first to admit that giving thanks takes practice. I see much around me that I am not thankful for - violence, drugs, poverty, apathy, trauma, abuse, and neglect. If I were not careful to daily practice thanksgiving I know I would be overwhelmed.

I believe every person can find strength in difficult circumstances by practicing the art of thanksgiving. Here are four of my practices that you may find helpful:

1. Look for things worthy of thanks. I’m learning to look for things worthy of thanksgiving everywhere. Sometimes giving thanks can be hard because my eyes are not trained to see thankfully, so to speak. There is so much negativity in this world that glimmers for my attention. It is easy to squander time on unworthy things but all around me, even in blighted neighborhoods, war zones and crumbling circumstances, there are things worthy of thanks and praise. I just have to refocus to see them. This means slowing down, becoming more aware and paying attention to the beauty that is actually there - everywhere present and filling all things. I have walked Troost since 2008 and I have seen the purple chicory that pushes through cracks in the sidewalk concrete, I have heard the laughter of friends at the bus stop, I have gazed at artful old building cornices and celebrated the diversity of people living in the city. When I refocus, thankfully all is transformed!

2. Get to know the people in your neighborhood. I’m learning that the more I build relationships with people the more I am thankful for them. I call this living like Mr. Rogers: “Who are the people in your neighborhood?” I’m an extrovert so talking to new people is easy for me. But building relationships can be hard for others. I’ve seen this especially at our Friday night meals where some volunteers find it difficult to come out of the kitchen. It can be hard to bridge the gap, but more often than not it’s worth the hard work. Without relationship and connection, people can become viewed as only stereotypes - black, white, lazy, rich, poor, powerful, weak, etc. What I’ve learned is that once I take time to get to know someone’s story the stereotypes fade and it’s easier to find common ground. Then, I can give thanks for them. An added benefit is I get to share my own story too.

3. Let the history around you infuse the present. I began studying the 200 year history of Troost Avenue when I began volunteering with RS in 2008 - I was amazed. I found out I work near to where famous people used to live at the turn of the century. Geographically, this was one of the the highest points in KC (years before the skyscrapers were constructed) on land that was once a 165 acre plantation with forty slaves. Across the street stood the old Majestic Theater where jazz legends played. All of a sudden the floor tiles of the old department store in the building RS now calls home, echoed with the heels of shoppers and vacant lots came alive. I’ve learned that the way things are now can make more sense by understanding the way things were then. I value the history of Troost and its people more by understanding how Troost got where it is today. By reading about the history of the place in which I find myself, I venerate it and give thanks for it.

4. Give thanks with others. I love sharing songs and stories. In doing so I am practicing the art of giving thanks by giving thanks with others. Without this sharing aspect my thanksgiving is somehow incomplete. I’ve found that people who share their thankful thoughts are contagious. Their thanksgiving can brighten my day or de-escalate a tense conversation. When I feel overwhelmed by my own circumstances giving thanks is a quick way to gain perspective again. Sometimes I even keep a journal of thanks and return to it when I need encouragement.

Every Thanksgiving holiday I recite at the dinner table Thank you, O Lord, the last sermon given by Father Alexander Schmemann given on Thanksgiving day 1983. These powerful words were uttered in the church at St. Vladimir’s seminary, where he was ordained just two weeks before he lost his swift battle with cancer. He begins his sermon by saying, “Anyone capable of thanksgiving is capable of salvation!”

As we seek to practice a life of thanksgiving may it become salvific for each one of us. May thanksgiving help us discover joy in unexpected places and people and may this joy be contagious to those around us.

As you seek to practice the art of thanksgiving, what often overlooked things are you thankful for? Leave your comments below.

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

What I Do Have I Give You

We are continually confronted with those in need. Sometimes it may seem obvious. Other times it is not as easy to see the need. One Thanksgiving I drove up to an on-ramp for the highway and a man, who looked homeless, held a sign that read, "Why lie? Need money for beer." Another time, while working at the Nashville Rescue Mission, I had a woman tell me that in one day she made $400 while panhandling. Then there was a time I was driving to church in Tennessee and noticed a man lying in the ditch next to the off ramp. He was shaking violently and obviously in need of medical attention.

At first glance or first interaction, we might balk at someone's motives or assume many things about their character or how they ended up where they are. Only in relationship with people do we begin to understand their story, what brought them to this place of need. After a little bit of time and conversation I found out that the guy with the beer sign didn't really want to buy beer. He was trying to use humor to attract attention, hoping someone would offer to help him get home since he was stranded. The woman who seemed to be raking it in by panhandling, was living in fear for her life due to abuse and the only place she had to stay was the shelter. She lacked the confidence and know-how to move herself beyond the street corner. And I picked up the guy in the ditch. As I drove him to the hospital, I learned that he was a veteran with severe PTSD and was suffering demented tremors due to alcohol withdrawal. 

Yes, some people who panhandle are lazy, but many are infirm, abused, traumatized, alone. Without relationship, how can we discern these things? Truly, anyone who is standing on a corner begging, who places themselves under that scrutiny and possible humiliation, has some secret sadness, longing, something in need of redemption and restoration.

These interactions, and many more like them, have forced me to think more deeply about the panhandler, the beggar, the drunk. We often ask the wrong questions when we come in contact with someone panhandling. Do they really need my money? What if they buy beer or drugs? Why don't they get a job? Don't they have more dignity than to beg?

These are not the most important questions. This approach does not put us face-to-face with a person in need, but rather a nuisance or problem to be handled. Rather than trying to justify their need or our role in rescuing, I propose that we instead practice mercy, stewardship, veneration, and preparation. 

Practice Mercy: Mercy is hard. Mercy gets in the way of what we really want--justice and fairness. Mother Teresa said, "If you judge people, you have no time to love them." When we turn our hearts towards mercy, we find that it is difficult to judge. It is difficult to accuse and suspect. Mercy can be a powerful act, especially when dealing with our enemies or those we feel are undeserving of it. Mercy means you see the other person, even in their sin and brokenness, even in the consequences of their own choices, and you love anyway. Jesus said, "Blessed are the merciful for they shall obtain mercy." It can mend the heart and restore faith. Consider how others have shown you mercy ... even when you didn't deserve it. 

Practice Stewardship: There really is no such thing as a "self-made" man. We are who we are because of the love and labor of those who came before us and those who surround and support us. We cannot regard ourselves as powerful possessors, but rather as faithful managers of all we have. The Scriptures remind us that to those who have been given much (and I would add earned much), much is expected. St. John of Kronstadt was a faithful priest in Russia at the end of the 19th Century who served the poorest of the poor. He said, "As the sun, the air, fire, water and earth are all common to us, so also in part are food and drink, money, books and in general all the Lord's gifts shared in common; for they are given in common to all, and yet are easily divisible for distribution amongst many." Inasmuch as you are a member of a family, a community, a human race, steward rightly your time, talent and treasures. Part of being a good steward is giving. Give for the good of others and out of gratitude for what you have been given.

Practice Veneration: When we practice veneration we find that we cannot despise anyone for their appearance or their asking. We should be respectful and hold good intentions towards everyone, especially the poor. Everyone is worthy of compassion and respect as each person is a living icon of God, made in His image. To disrespect this icon is to cruelly wound our own soul. But it is difficult to love and venerate our neighbor. Sometimes they are very unlovable and the image of God is hard to see. In learning to practice veneration we should attempt to be without suspicion, doubt, or a tendency towards minute investigation. Jesus said, inasmuch as you have done it unto one of the least of these, my brethren, you have done it unto me. To be kind, brotherly, open-handed and loving towards our neighbor is to share and participate in extending God's love to all around us. 

Practice Preparation: Oftentimes I carry a dollar or two with me during the day to be sure that I have something to give, at least to the first few people that ask. Practice preparation by thinking about how you will respond before you are asked. If we do not have money to give we can still give our attention, a smile, and the respect of listening without judgement. I try to prepare myself not to question or judge the story that goes along with a request for money. But you do not always have to give what is being asked of you in order to be merciful. In the book of Acts the apostles were walking by a man who was begging for money and when asked, Peter responded, "Silver and gold I do not have, but what I do have I give you." 

One simple way of practicing preparation is to direct someone to professional resources that are available at places like Reconciliation Services, where trained staff and volunteers are ready to help those most in need. On our website under the programs tab you can find out more about the many services we offer.

As the Thanksgiving holiday arrives, how can you express your thanksgiving by practicing mercy, stewardship, veneration and preparation? Follow us on Facebook and leave a comment about how you practice these things. 
 

Thanksgiving: A Time For Expressing Gratitude

The season surrounding Thanksgiving is perhaps my favorite. As family members make plans to visit, we begin preparations for the highlight of the holiday: the Thanksgiving meal. Not only do we make room for our guests during this season, we welcome extra hands ready to perform various tasks. In the kitchen, everyone is given a role. Perhaps an uncle runs to the market to fetch the turkey, a sister boils and mashes the potatoes, or a brother prepares a pie pan for pumpkin filling with the help of mother. Around the Thanksgiving table, everyone has a place and everyone has a job.

The Thanksgiving meal bears a lot of similarity to the high point in Orthodox Christian liturgical worship: the Eucharist. This word comes from the Greek word meaning “thanksgiving,” and is best expressed as the bringing together of many to share in a holy meal. A Eucharistic act—an act of Thanksgiving—is truly recognizing that everything we have is a gift, our gratitude compels us to share what we have with others. In so doing, we receive the invaluable gift of the presence of God and the joyful presence of others. This Eucharistic vision of generous thanksgiving is at the heart of our work at RS. We strive to create an atmosphere where everyone has a place because many of the people that walk through our doors do not have that important sense of belonging.

A couple of months ago, a young man named Thomas came to us needing assistance finding a job. A major barrier to his acquiring employment was the fact that he didn’t possess any form of identification and did not have the $25 to secure it. After completing our digital literacy training program, which gave him the tools necessary to search and apply for a job online, Thomas was able to acquire a state ID through our Document Assistance Program. He then spent weeks applying for jobs online using our internet cafe, and his efforts were rewarded: Thomas accepted employment as a cashier at Home Depot. This Thanksgiving there are so many others like Thomas coming to RS to find a place to belong.

For many within our community like Thomas, RS exists as the only place that offers the kind of love and warmth that surrounds the Thanksgiving meal. Our work to provide that place is only made possible through your gifts.

This Thanksgiving will you consider giving a generous one-time gift of $25, $50, $100 or even more to provide a place of belonging and the hope that so many others need? Your help would mean so much right now. Please join us and all our guests around the table of Thanksgiving by supporting the work of RS with your kind donation!

Our Reason for Existence

The word 'Venerate' sums up what we do and how we operate here at Reconciliation Services but what does it mean?

Recently a close friend visited Diveyevo Convent in Russia while on pilgrimage. This was the very place where a famous Orthodox Christian monk, St Seraphim of Sarov, labored as pastor. In 1921, the fourth year of Soviet rule, the Diveyevo Convent was destroyed; the bells were silenced, churches and cells were emptied but in recent decades it has undergone a renewal and has been restored as an active monastery.

St Seraphim of Sarov

St Seraphim of Sarov

​While visiting, a priest of the Convent began to share with my friend something unusual that had been happening in last two years. The priest related that a painted wooden icon all covered with soot, previously unknown, had been discovered on the monastery grounds. All sensed that it was very special but the soot obscured the image entirely. So they began to perform prayers in front of the icon every day in the church. After several months the faithful found a little spot on the hands and on the forehead that began to be lighter. They continued to pray and within a year they saw a face appear. Within two years the icon was miraculously and totally restored! Under the soot was none other than St Seraphim himself!

When I heard this story I thought it was a powerful image of the human condition and cure. Rather than political rhetoric and argument usually wrapped up in blame, this story gives us a way to sidestep the pitfalls in discussing how to "serve the poor" and opens a way for both the rich and the poor to seek mutual healing and reconciliation.

Each of us is in fact a living icon, created in the image of God but striving to recover our likeness. Each of us is covered over in layers of soot; various trials, experiences, passions, addictions and struggles. Through contact with the love of God communicated through the tender actions of other fellow strugglers, the true person is revealed. This story has become the primary way I understand the work of Reconciliation Services and thus the meaning of the word Veneration.

There are many ways of speaking about human beings, especially those of our neighbors who are in need who come to 31st and Troost. At RS we seek for every action—be it emergency services, self-sufficiency services or economic community building—to be an act of veneration. What we have found is that by treating each person with authentic respect and seeking to reveal their hidden strengths rather than "fix" visible deficits, people who otherwise felt hopeless find dignity, strength and solutions.

Welcome to The New Reconciliation Services Website!

You may notice our brand is updated, including a new website, logo, mission, vision and colors. The RS staff, in conjunction with our communication team, Morse Brown Creative, have been laboring for months to craft what you now see. I hope you love it as much as we do!

In reworking the RS communication elements I knew that we needed a mark and online presence that was an extension of our real work and vision of veneration (read about Veneration and the work of RS in my previous blog post).

Choosing the color and style for the website, especially the new patterns required much thought and prayer. The new brand had to honor our history and founders Fr. Alexii, his wife, Matushka Michaela, Mother Nicole and others (read more about our founding here). The brand needed to feel indigenous to our community and clients so it could be 'theirs' also; it needed to cast a vision for the future while incorporating the aesthetic of the historic buildings and peoples around 31st and Troost and it had to reflect the Orthodox Christian faith that is the heart of our work. The vibrancy of the cultures around us and the strength of our clients, as well as the history of racism and struggle for dignity all played a role in shaping the visual language of our brand.

Crafting a new mark for RS was really fun. As a logo it emphasizes RS, rather than our full name, as that is how we are known on Troost (friends from long, long ago in the community still lovingly call us "the bookstore" from time to time too, remember when Desert Wisdom Bookstore used to be in main lobby instead of on the side). The new RS logo emphasizes our mission; revealing something hidden - the strength of those we serve and the work of reconciliation. It also was influenced by the iconography of Eastern Orthodoxy. 

This website is less about RS than it is a gallery of living icons; people who have found strength within themselves and healing at RS. I hope you will take time to read their stories and celebrate with us each month the miraculous taking place in our community. Get to know our friends and neighbors at RS right here on RS3101.org. Thank you for your continued prayer and support.

Fr Justin

Reflecting on the Year

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Most of us know the pain of falling and bruising or worse, breaking something. Feelings of embarrassment or loss of dignity and vulnerability often follow. In gifting every person who comes to Reconciliation Services with the dignity and respect that we ourselves need when we are hurting, places us on a level playing field with our clients. This is a step forward on the road to our mutual healing. The many practical services that we provide with the generous help of our donors flow from the awareness of our own vulnerability and our desire for love from our fellow human beings. In partnering with us in our mission, you are helping us achieve our vision that those who come to 31st and Troost who have fallen through the cracks find dignity, strength and the solutions they need to build vibrant community together.


This year has been an amazing year of growth for RS in furthering our mission to build community by revealing the strength of those we serve, providing emergency services and promoting self-sufficiency. In 2014 our assets grew by 30%, new revenues by 10% and we helped 2,800 people receive emergency services! To increase our success even further in 2015, continued participation and collaboration between businesses, government bodies, non-governmental organizations and individuals like you is critical.

I want to thank all of our donors for your vital support and belief in our vision. We’ve been on an amazing journey together so far but the best part is just beginning. I look forward to seeing what we achieve in the coming year.

Fr Justin