An Interview with J

          J bounds up to me every Thursday afternoon. Long, dark pigtails flying in the wind, she wraps my waist in a hug. I tutor her once a week at a local elementary school. I’m lucky, after I semester of cleaning up deliberate juice box spills and threatening time out, I was assigned to J who loves math, loves to read, loves computer time, and loves being tutored. Every week I hear a bit of what she’s making of the world. Though her words don’t quite flow as Ryan’s do, she’s making something of the world nonetheless.

What do our times together assume about the way the world is? They assume that some children have a more difficult time in school than others, that coming from a low-income neighborhood without family support (which is the case for many of the students) is detrimental to learning. They also assume that hour by hour a volunteer can help them overcome that hurdle.

What do our times together assume about the way the world should be? They assume that there shouldn’t be a disparity between students. They assume that people in a community should care for one another. This program draws nearly one hundred volunteers each year who show up to tutor and share in life with a child who really needs help to reach their grade level in reading and math.

More than most tutor/student pairings, my time with J shows that on occasion the way the world is and the way the world should be can draw near to each other. She loves recklessly; giving hugs to anyone standing still enough and encouragement to the other students in our room. She is reading and doing math along with the rest of the kids in her grade; I rarely have to help her with her homework and instead get to push her to think more deeply. And what is J making of the world? She enjoys being with her family, they went on vacation together for spring break to a theme park. She doesn’t like church, she has to sit too still, but the tacos for lunch afterward make it worthwhile. She likes to read Sarah, Plain and Tall to me, even though she’s read it before. My “interview” with her came out in a series of likes and dislikes; I guess that’s how we all begin to make something of the world. I “like” this and “dislike” eventually become our means for evaluating what is true and good.

An Interview with Ryan

My friend Ryan has been kind enough to walk through this class with me all semester. We meet up every week or so to talk about any number of topics related to the class title, “Cultural Engagement.” It probably came as no surprise to him that I came to him with another huge, seemingly unanswerable question a few weeks ago. “What has been your most spiritual experience?” I asked over a French press at Shenandoah Joe’s. He knew the answer right away, “Seeing Picasso’s ‘Guernica’ at the Reina Sophia in Spain.” 

I’d been abroad for the whole semester studying in London, Zach and I went to Spain at the end of the trip. I was exhausted at that point; we’d been backpacking for a while, exploring cities by day and staying in hostels at night. As we neared the end of the trip I really began to ask myself what this whole experience had meant. Did I just spend a semester and my parents’ money enjoying Europe or was I really coming home changed somehow? What had I gained or done that’s positive?

One afternoon we wandered into the Reina Sophia. As we were going through the museum, I saw some of Picasso’s studies of tortured faces for “Guernica”. As you go along the wall there are dozens of them and I expected to turn the corner and see the whole huge painting. Instead I turned around and it was right behind me, it hits you all at once in an absolutely overwhelming way. It was faith affirming. On one hand it’s a very compassionate painting; it’s a call to action in which Picasso says, ‘we can’t stand for this!’ On the other it’s a reminder that we do terrible things to each other, the painting shows the agony of faceless violence. The figure on the right is looking up as if to call ‘why?!’ The chaos of it; the broken bodies and mangled forms are stark. The painting is in black and white and you just can’t look away. The pain was a shared experience but the healing is too, you’re viewing it alongside other people who are having the same reaction. That moment affirmed for me that art can have an impact; we don’t always have to work through politics. Everything we create has an impact. 

Guernica, Picasso. 1937

Listening Is an Act of Love

"Poverty is not just a matter of lacking financial resources; it can also simply mean being cut off from cultural power. To be poor is to be unable to 'make something of the world.'"

From Andy Crouch's Culture Making (p43)

            Culture Making projects for Professor Bradshaw’s class on Cultural Engagement can take just about any form. He asks that we stick to the parameters laid out by Crouch in his book:

1.      What does this cultural artifact assume about the way the world is?

2.      What does this cultural artifact assume about the way the world should be?

3.      What does this cultural artifact make possible?

4.      What does this cultural artifact make impossible (or at least very difficult)?

5.      What forms of culture are created in response to this artifact? 

You could ask these questions of any object or event. Neighborhood block parties or even something as simple as an omelet assume things about the world and make certain things possible. I’ve chosen to ask these questions about a series of blog posts generated by interviews of people whom I encounter daily. My inspiration is a book entitled Listening is an Act of Love and is filled with the transcripts of interviews conducted through the American Story Corps Project. The premise is simple: take someone into a recording booth for an hour. Interview them about anything- a profound loss, their experience in the Civil Rights Movement, a brush with a natural disaster, or the regular events of their daily life. They receive a copy of the interview and second one is cataloged in the Library of Congress to preserve narratives about the lives of Americans today.

What does this book make possible? At the very least you learn a bit more about the life experience of someone whom you’ll never meet. At the very most these stories are profound expressions of human dignity. It’s often difficult to appreciate the depth of the dozens of people walking along side us everyday; there’s not enough space in a grocery store check-out line or the corner office of a financial advisor to let a life’s story unfurl. This book reminds me of the privilege it is to be human; we are each filled to the brim with stories, desires, dreams, and disappointments. We are all making something of the world, but some people’s ‘makings’ are more easily herd and seen than others. What the book (and this blog, hopefully) seeks to make possible is a place for those ‘makings’ of the world to be shared.

Making Things

Compelled by my professor, Wade Bradshaw, along with a personal love for the blogging community, my blog journey begins here. I'm working on "Culture Making" project inspired by Andy Crouch's book by the same name. My classmates and I each have to "make something of the world." Having spent nearly eight months as a Trinity Fellow, I have fed richly on what others are making of the world through reading, conferences, and lectures yet I’ve barely paused to digest.

 - How does each of these pieces fit together? 

- How will they affect the way I relate to the world around me?

- What am I making of the world? 

            Sometimes I’ll share what others have made. I love words just about more than anything and would relish the opportunity to share some good ones with you. Sometimes I’ll share what I’m making. Recipes, thoughts, photos, who knows! You’ll have to tune in and find out. I’d also like to extend the invitation to join in… what are you making of the world? What patterns are weaving through your life? What songs are drifting into your ears? What images can’t you get out of your head? Comment and tell me (and whoever else happens to be checking in) all about it.