Act in the Spirit of Mercy

   

Adam (right) with his community in New York City

   Working as an immigration counselor at Catholic Migration Services in Brooklyn, NY has been nothing short of an amazing experience thus far. Helping people to apply for immigration benefits that I, by virtue of being born here, have always taken for granted has been a humbling experience and one that has afforded me some perspective on the privileged position I have in our society. In just a few short months I’ve been able to learn all about and help people with legal matters such as the citizenship process, deferred action for illegal childhood arrivals, obtaining a visitor visa for the United States, and Freedom of Information Act requests. Although my lengthy daily commute might sometimes make it difficult to want to get up in the morning, I can genuinely say that I enjoy going to work and having the opportunity to help change a person’s life each day.

   That being said, my job unfortunately comes with its fair share of disappointment as well. This disappointment usually stems from having to inform people that they cannot become a citizen or obtain the legal right to work, and is not something that I’m particularly fond of. However, I understand that this is an essential component of my job and I’ve recognized these moments as times when I’ve been moved to feel genuine empathy, compassion, or dare I say, mercy, for another person. One such example of this happened recently with a wonderfully sweet, older woman that had come to the office in order to apply for citizenship. I was immediately moved by her kindness and wanted nothing more than to help her obtain citizenship and thereby fulfill what she had previously started before her husband had passed away. Unfortunately though, after beginning the application process with her, I was forced to advise her that she ought to wait an additional two years before she could file her application. When I broke the news to her, I could hear the sadness and resignation in her voice, as she was devastated to find out she would have to wait even longer to become an American citizen. But something amazing happened, and sensing the sadness and disappointment in my own voice over the telephone, this kind, elderly woman actually began comforting me and thanking me for trying to help her. I was shocked that instead of dwelling on the unfortunate reality of her own situation, this woman was comforting me and trying to alleviate whatever misplaced feelings of guilt that I was having. Ultimately, this client would even go so far as to bring me a container of sweets when she next came to the office as a token of her gratitude.  

   I know that this might seem like a rather mundane story, but I think it encapsulates what this year has been about for me so far. In signing on to be a member of Mercy Volunteer Corps and work at Catholic Migration Services, I was focused on all the ways that I would be able to help those at the margins of our society. However, I’ve come to realize how people such as the sweet, older, Greek woman that came to the office are helping me and teaching me what it really means to act in the spirit of Mercy. 

Adam Augustyn - Catholic Migration Services - Brooklyn, NY

One Little Act

Ben Petersen '13  (right) and Becca
Rybaltowski '11, '12 (left) at an immigration rally

It had been a long day and I was happy to leave the loud, crowded lobby, eager to escape the chaos of lines and paperwork and impatient people. I stepped out of the Mexican Consulate onto E 39th St. and into yet another chaotic world: rush hour. My feet hurt and my back ached from carrying my bag all day but I hurried on, down bustling Park Avenue and into the mass of commuters.

My first few days I walked through this, nodding at passersby, enjoying the moment and refusing to rush. But that day I walked as a part of it all; pushing past people on their cell phones, stepping around tourists with kids, barely stopping at lights, if at all. I rushed with this mass through the twists and turns of Grand Central Station, desperately trying to reach my line before the person beside me. The 7 came with a screech and a whoosh as the doors opened and the air conditioning spilled out into the hot tunnel. I stepped in and sat immediately, relieved to get off my feet, as others streamed past, packing into the car. I leaned back, closed my eyes, and settled in for the ride home.

At Vernon Blvd I was disturbed by a commotion.  The doors were ringing, unable to close as an old homeless man crept onto the train. Hunched with age he grunted and pushed his shoulder into people forcing them to move. People recoiled from his touch and quickly cleared a way. A young man in dress pants got up quickly and crossed to the other side of the car as the old man shuffled on and sat beside me. His skin was old and gray, his face ugly, sagging with wrinkles. His arms bore open sores and bandages. He smelled of urine and his button down shirt hung off his bare shoulder. He held an old Dunkin Donuts cup, jingling the few small coins in its bottom, and mumbled unintelligibly to the captive audience stuck in the car around him. In the other hand, he clutched a torn plastic bag, presumably all his current belongings. I inched away uncomfortably; being careful our arms didn’t touch, scanning the car for an opening to escape to.

Sitting, I could only see the waists and shoes of those around me. Business shoes and slacks headed home, skinny jeans and converse rushing to the nearest dive bar, pastel shorts and Sperrys on their way to the US Open; all of us packed together as we rushed somewhere else. But within this cramped mass there was a space, as people shifted and shuffled, away from the homeless man. Eyes met across the car, brows raised and noses wrinkled. I looked pleadingly to a Korean girl in front of me, hoping she would make space for me to get up. Then, at Court Square, a seat opened up across the car, thank God! The Korean girl lifted up her elbow and nodded her head at the seat. I put my foot out and leaned forward to get up and take it, but then, sat back down heavily.

The words “whatever you do for one of the least of these…” flashed through my mind. The Korean girl stared at me, confused, as another woman filled the empty seat. I shrugged my shoulders, paused, and then smiled. “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me also,” I mouthed these words to myself as I thought and received even more stares from the commuters around me. I thought of how foolish I had been and immediately began to pray. I relaxed and took the full seat, letting our knees touch and elbows brush. He shifted away and grunted but I said, “It’s alright man,” and smiled. Two stops later a teen hurrying out of the doors knocked the old man’s bag to the floor. I bent, picked it up and handed it back to him, cringing as his dirty hands touched my own. He nodded at me, grateful yet puzzled, and continued mumbling.

Ben Petersen '13

           And that was it. I didn’t continue to talk to him. I didn’t share the gospel with him or give him my spare change. I was just there. I treated him like a human being. As a human being. I wasn’t on my way home, I was there, on 7 train, sitting beside him.  Maybe I should have said more. Maybe I should have given him some food or helped him retie his bag. But who knows.

           What I do know is that this moment, and this man, forced me to look at myself. It forced me to see that little things matter; that this one little act, though perhaps small to the man, or weird to the people on the train, mattered to me, and mattered to my Maker. Compared to that, what else matters? 

Ben Petersen - Catholic Migration Services - New York, NY

Same Mindset

Mariah (left) talking with other volunteers during orientation

This year I am serving in St. Michaels, Arizona where I am teaching high school math at St. Michael’s Indian School.  Although it is far from my hometown in New Jersey, I know that this experience will be amazing. When my parents dropped me off in Pennsylvania for Orientation, I have to admit that I was very nervous about this year of service.  However, after meeting the staff of Mercy Volunteer Corps as well as the other volunteers, my nerves have gone away.  I cannot wait to learn more about the Navajo culture and to fully immerse myself in their many traditions.  Also, I cannot wait to go see the beautiful land which I will be living on for the next year.  Everyone who has told me about my service site has told me about the cows and horses we will see roaming around and all of the different places we should visit, all of which will be very new and exciting to me.

Mariah (right) getting pinned during Commissioning Mass

Although some of us have nerves and excitement heading out to our service sites, it is very comforting knowing that we have so much support from those involved with Mercy Volunteer Corps.  Being surrounded by those who have the same mindset as me has made this decision much easier.  I cannot wait for each of us to get our feet wet and to embark on this new journey we have all started together.  This year may be difficult at times, but I know that talking to the other volunteers and keeping my spirituality will help me get through those difficult times.  I hope that this year helps to bring out the best in each of us while teaching us many lessons. I know that I have already been impacted by the people I have met during Orientation, so I can only imagine how much the Navajo community will impact me.

Mariah Iapicco - St. Michael's Indian School - St. Michaels, AZ

Mercy Day

On September 24th, 1827, the very first House of Mercy was opened under the leadership of Catherine McAuley, foundress of the Sisters of Mercy. Mercy Day is celebrated throughout the world, and I thought I’d commemorate it by reflecting a bit about my time as a volunteer with Mercy Volunteer Corps.
I am where I am today, and indeed, who I am today, in very large part because of my interaction with the Sisters of Mercy. I have known Mercy Sisters from the time I knew what a nun was, and I’ve always loved them. As I thought about what I wanted to do after college, I started looking at volunteer programs. I was drawn to Mercy Volunteer Corps because I’d always had such positive experiences with the Sisters. In August of 2002 I was accepted and offered a position at Marian House, a home for women in recovery. The program sounded amazing. There was one catch: it was in Baltimore, MD. I was finishing my senior year at a smallish college in the mountains of North Carolina. Baltimore could not be further from home or my comfort zone. Still, I decided to go, and it remains one of the best decisions of my life.
I lived with three other volunteers, Lara, Margy, and Rachel. We lived in the rectory of St. Peter’s in southwest Baltimore, where we were immediately welcomed by the church and the neighborhood. I even received a baptism by fire of sorts, as my car was broken into within a week. Our work sites were fantastic, though not without their challenges, and I could not have asked for better roommates/community members.
We were–we are–The Baltimore Girls. We have a monthly phone call so that we can all stay in touch, and we get together every couple of years. Our most recent reunion was in May 2013 - though everyone came to my wedding on the 14^th of this month, it was a little too chaotic to call that a proper Baltimore Girls Reunion. Though it’s been over ten years since we lived together, it still feels like yesterday. It’s hard to explain my relationship with my Baltimore Girls. We are so much more than old roommates and friends. We have a connection that simply cannot be broken.
As a volunteer at Marian House, I worked primarily in the Education Center, tutoring women and helping them prepare for the GED or readiness classes. I also worked with families in the program, tutoring children and coordinating family activities. By the end of my first week there, I knew that I was meant to be a social worker and am now a therapist for children and families in the Baltimore County Public School System.
I learned so much in my year there. It was the first time I’d encountered and dealt with substance abuse in a tangible way, and I have vivid memories of times when I witnessed some of the incredible challenges faced by people who live with addiction. We had a movie night not too long after I started, and one of the movies was 28 Days, featuring Sandra Bullock as a woman who enters a rehab facility. I learned more watching the reactions and listening to the commentary of the Marian House residents during that movie than any course on substance abuse could have taught me. One of the most difficult days I experienced  there was when a resident’s boyfriend overdosed, was hospitalized, and nearly died. He had been clean for nearly 20 years, and he relapsed. That was the day I truly realized the power of addiction and the daily battle that a person in recovery faces. I’d already had tremendous respect for the women in the program and for others in recovery, but that day, I was simply blown away by the strength they demonstrate each day to remain clean.
My year in the Mercy Volunteer Corps brought me to Baltimore, to a city that baffles me daily and yet sucked me in so deeply that after a few years away, I was ready to come back. I returned to Baltimore in 2008, and much to my mother’s dismay, I’m not planning to leave any time soon. I credit my initial year in Baltimore for my profound conviction that I am a social worker down to my very soul.

And so on Mercy Day today, I remember that my MVC year taught me about service, about living in community, and about living simply. It taught me that as a young, sheltered, white woman from the South, I have even more to learn from my clients than I have to offer them. It taught me that friendship can stand the test of time, of distance, and of differences. It taught me that Phase 10 is hands down the best game EVER, that having PBJ for dinner several days in a row in order to finish a ridiculously challenging butterfly puzzle is worth it, that while there are indeed bats in the belfry there is also a beautiful view, and that the Circle of Mercy is indeed both kindness and timeless.

Janet Price Mercy Volunteer Corps Alumna '02

Invite The Light

Corbin Gardner '13 (right) speaking with
a guest after our Commissioning Mass

              How will I ‘allow the light’ this year?  Such is a worthy question no matter who you are, but especially so for the 35 Mercy Volunteers preparing for an upcoming year of service in the name of love and mercy.  I consider myself lucky to be among these 35 and yet genuinely challenged by the theme of this week’s orientation—‘Allow the Light’.

               Fortunately, we have been given some excellent food for thought on how, exactly, we might allow the light that is mercy to penetrate and permeate our lives and service.  Speaker Tony Medwid, director of the Bethesda Project of Philadelphia, put it to us like this: light can only get in through cracks.  What are my cracks?  As much as I would like to believe that my strengths will carry me through this year, I am beginning to think that it might be my weaknesses, vulnerabilities, or the cracks in my armor that will actually serve as the vehicles that transport me toward my intended destination.  Do I truly believe that entering into my weaknesses could enlighten my life? Is vulnerability the path to deep joy?

            “Allow the light, in order that you might become the light”; such was the challenge Sister Megan Brown, RSM posed to us.  Although such words can be cryptic, confusing, and cliché,  (here I sympathize with Happy Gilmore and Danny from Caddyshack—“be the ball”) I know there is some wisdom in them.  How do I ‘become the light’?  Perhaps a hint lurks in the name of our organization—mercy.  Mercy, like compassion, can only be expressed to another person after we enter into his or her life in all of its messiness.  In order to do so, it may require that I admit that, beyond a few cracks, my life is downright messy.  If I have the courage to confess that my life is messy, that it is in fact riddled with cracks, then perhaps the illusions of my person that I have attempted to piece together can give way to a drowning light, a light that gives life and hope to others of all backgrounds and a light which invites persons to consider the goodness of its source.  Thus, I make the words of our theme my prayer as we begin our year of serving those who are poor and marginalized. I invite the light.

Corbin Gardner - Witness to Innocence - Philadelphia, PA

Ignited and Fueled



Kelly Mihalik '13

I can vividly remember taking the last box from my car and carrying it into my dorm room at Saint Xavier University. As I looked around my room, I saw a space full of hope and opportunities for the next four years. Nerves and excitement flowed through my veins as I began to meet my fellow dorm and classmates that I would grow and learn with while pursuing my nursing degree. I never expected what would follow in those next four years.  

These same feelings have resurfaced as I prepared for my year of service with the Mercy Volunteer Corps. I am about to embark on a foreign adventure; one full of service, spirituality, community, and simple living. I'll be fully immersed with the Navajo culture while volunteering as a Registered Nurse. Not only will I be experiencing a new community, but a new culture on the reservation. Needless to say the anxious feelings accumulated as I thought about the differences I would encounter. But then I realized there is beauty and lessons in differences between cultures, and the nerves began to fall and the excitement grew.  

Orientation this past week has ignited and fueled the light in my heart for service, justice, and mercy. Being surrounded with fellow young adults who share a fellow passion has only exponentially increased my anticipation in embarking on this spiritual journey. Though I am still anxious, my eagerness and hopes for the next year have stifled those feelings. I am hoping to grow in my spiritual life by experiencing various forms of prayer by learning and living with the community in Arizona. But my biggest hope is to be changed and touched by the lives of those I am serving with on the reservation. 

Kelly Mihalik - St Michaels Association for Special Education - St. Michaels, AZ

Perspective-Shaping Moments

Christine (right) with a participant

A recent victory in my year of service with Quinn Cottages was being a part of the first move-in day for our residents after their cottages had undergone rehab.  It was a long process in which participants were forced to pack up and move their stuff from one quad to another before they could finally settle in to their newest home.  This construction and rehab had been a work in progress since my arrival in August, so it was rewarding to finally see what it looked like to hand a key to such a grateful and deserving recipient.  Each of them showed ample gratitude, remembering what it was like not too long ago to be living on the streets.  I have been able to witness many perspective-shaping moments in which participants open up to me about their past and the darkness (as far as homelessness, addiction, abuse) they escaped from by coming to Quinn.  Stories like these have kept me coming to work every day with an optimistic attitude, happy to serve these people that have been through more than I can even feign to imagine.  Each person that lives here in these 60 Cottages has touched my life, each of them moving in their own way, and I hope that they feel the same about my role in their own lives.

Working at Quinn Cottages has changed me in ways I could not have predicted before moving to Sacramento.  I have found a home here amongst the participants that inspire me on a daily basis.  I have come a long way in my journey: arriving as a business school graduate with no experience in the field of social work or with low-income housing, and have since then been able to “learn the ropes” and get to know on a personal level each individual that lives here.  I even upgraded work space to my very own office complete with a “feelings couch”.  My participants are always eager to show their gratitude to me by bringing me coffee, splitting their sandwich, or earnestly presenting me a flower picked illegally from the garden next door to adorn my already overly-decorated office.

Christine (left) with a participant

 I feel so blessed looking back on my time so far and am sad at the thought of no longer being here in a few weeks, which, many of the participants have reciprocated in their own refusal to “let me leave”.  I have recently been inspired by one of my more let’s say lyrical participants (while he was laying on my feelings couch and loudly singing along to my favorite Beatles Pandora station) to create a Quinn documentary, so to speak, for when I am missing them months from now or just to look back at down the road and remember my time here.  I plan to make a point of cherishing my time in these next few months and really soak in everything that these wonderful people have to taught me.

Christine Poletto - Cottage Housing - Sacramento, PA

Forge Ahead

Leila (center) working with clients

For the residents of Detroit, the city itself has a somewhat bittersweet feel to it. It’s the city with amazing energy and great innovation. It’s the city home to the Detroit Tigers and Sugar Man (A.K.A. Sixto Rodriguez) a musician whose music gained notoriety in South Africa during the Apartheid and whose documentary won an Oscar this year. Detroit was at the center of civil rights movement, not to mention the auto industry.  However, Detroit is also a city facing depopulation, inadequate public services, and has appointed an Emergency Financial Manager to oversee its finances. Having been in Detroit for almost a year, I find myself identifying with some of the city’s dreams and challenges.

I work at Mercy Education Project (MEP) in South West Detroit teaching classes for preparation of GED examinations, as well as tutor middle school students.  The service provided by MEP addresses one of the challenges facing Detroit residents—illiteracy. Initially, like many who do not reside in the city, I was skeptical about the prospects of having to live and work in Detroit. Over time; however, this view has morphed into an appreciation at having the opportunity to teach and also learn from the women and girls attending the program. The women I teach are extremely dedicated. Many come from very challenging backgrounds and at some point in their lives had dropped out of school. In spite of their circumstances; however, they persevere daily wanting to improve their livelihood with the goal of attaining a formal education.

The experience at MEP has been extremely valuable and meaningful to me. Each day I am reminded not to take life for granted and when or if challenging circumstances arise, to simply forge ahead with a determination to succeed. Many of the students at MEP embody and convey this positively infectious attitude.  

Leila Manongi - Mercy Education Project - Detroit, MI

A Common Ground

Many people would classify me as an extrovert by my relative willingness to meet and converse with new people in unfamiliar situations. In regards to working at Clean and Sober, I carry this quality with me day to day, always making time to get to know everyone who comes into our office for intakes and those who are already present within our program. I have been blessed throughout my experience to find a majority of people who are more than willing to open their hearts and minds to me, illustrating the situations that have placed them in their own unfortunate circumstances.

Four weeks ago we brought a woman into our program who had been dealing with substance abuse for a few years, attempting to begin her early recovery journey after hitting rock bottom and ending up homeless. When I first met her, I did my standard "Hello! My name is Maura, nice to meet you!" while holding out my hand for the customary handshake greeting. She casually looked down at my hand, stoically looked back up at me and uttered one word- "Hi." After a few failed attempts to begin conversations with her that day, I began to lose a little bit of hope that I could form a relationship with her like I had with the rest of the residents at the program. The next week, I went to the program and was met again with the same resistance in engaging in conversation with one another, leaving me unsettled but very eager to find where we could connect. Little did she know, she had ignited a fire within me to find where our common ground would be, resulting in the forming of an art class for our program. One Tuesday, I came into the program with an art project to show the residents and have them participate in. The art project consisted of placing paint into different containers filled with soapy water and blowing them onto a canvas, deemed "Bubble Painting". When I arrived at the program, I tried to entice many of the residents into joining me with this artistic experiment, and one of the few people to agree was the woman that I had had such a hard time talking to. As we began to figure out the experiment, and ultimately fail at performing it correctly, she slowly started to talk and laugh more, gradually becoming comfortable both with myself and where she was living. Even though the "Bubble Painting" did not work out artistically speaking, it did work in bringing many of the residents together and creating a more family-like atmosphere within the program.

Fortunately, the art class is still thriving and becoming more and more successful each week, rallying up an increasing number of residents and steadily heightening the morale within the program. Through this experience I learned that an individuals' background can stand in the way of initial conversations, but that there is always a common ground that can be found and expanded on in order to create that necessary bond.

Maura Dunn - Clean and Sober - Sacramento, CA

Humbling Experiences

Jake (back left) with his community members

The past two weeks here at St. Michael Indian School have truly been life changing for me as a person. There have been a number of times in which I have simply stopped, taken a step back, and said, "Wow! I am here on the Navajo Reservation experiencing life in ways I didn't know were possible." One particular experience in which I was really struck with awe was about a week ago at our all school liturgy in honor of the newly canonized Saint Kateri Tekakwitha. For this mass, I was asked to participate in a couple ways that I have recognized made the experience extremely special for me.

A couple days before the liturgy, I was asked to help carry the Saint Kateri statue in during the opening procession and then out after mass. Immediately, I said yes and was excited to do it. But, I certainly didn't realize the feelings I would get while doing such a simple action. Once the native drummers and singers started the opening song and I began to help carry it, the feelings hit and were overwhelming. The entire congregation focusing on the statue of a woman that changed perspectives for years to come - and I was carrying her forward! Unbelievably humbling to say the least is how I would describe that experience. And you can bet that at the end of mass as I helped carry her out, the same feelings returned once again.

The other part of the mass that I was asked to help out with was being a Eucharistic minister. Again, I said yes without any hesitancy. However, I think I forgot how much of a humbling experience being a Eucharistic minister can be as well, especially when you are providing blessings to many of the students and faculty who are not of the Catholic faith. Words cannot describe the feeling of providing God's blessing to kindergartners, first graders, fifth graders, faculty, community members. In essence, these two experiences at the liturgy honoring a Native American woman struck me as life changing humbling experiences that I will never forget.

Jake DeMarais - St Michael Indian School - St. Michaels, AZ

Vehicle for Social Justice

Sometime during mid-October, I attended a hearing on solitary confinement at Temple University. One of our members, Shujaa Graham, was chosen to partake in a panel and give his testimony on the subject. I accompanied him during the hearing and that was my main reason for attending. Shujaa is an amazing and resilient individual who spent three years on death row and in solitary confinement, but he had spent many years in prison before that. While he was giving his testimony, his preacher-like charisma filled the room and many of us were brought to tears, including myself. He spoke about the absolute torture that is inflicted upon solitary confinement prisoners and that many of them are placed there, not because of their potential danger to other inmates, but because of their political views that could influence other prisoners to advocate for themselves against an unjust system. His testimony was well received and as he finished, people stood up, applauded and praised him for his powerful yet heart wrenching words. I was so honored to be in his presence. Shujaa is a true survivor; he won his freedom and affirmed his innocence “in spite of the system.”

          Being a part of Witness to Innocence has made me a more aware individual about the injustices surrounding Capital Punishment within the U.S. We are the only Western society that continues to practice legal homicide. The death penalty continues to perpetuate the cycle of violence within our country and it condemned our members to live a life that they wouldn’t have otherwise. Many of them deal with addiction and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) because of what they went through and had to endure during their incarceration. It is a grave injustice that innocent people can fall through the cracks within the criminal justice system because of its racism, poor legal representation and overall flawed protocol. Upon being exonerated, former inmates are not entitled to any type of benefits such as compensation, mental health services, and/or transitional resources. Even though they have been exonerated, their records still indicate that they have committed a felony and it serves as a tremendous road block within their lives. But through their resilience, they are able to travel throughout the world and share their stories while educating the public about the death penalty and innocence.

The road to world-wide death penalty abolition is far from over, but here at Witness to Innocence, I am able to be a vehicle for social justice and help those who have been inflicted by an unjust system. It is truly a blessing to serve our members and to be there for them. I am very grateful to have been chosen for this year of service and it continues to inspire me in my everyday life.

Veronika Castellanos - Witness to Innocence -Philadelphia, PA