Righteous Indignation [revised]

Friday morning I was seething. Presented with yet another instance of the poor being treated as second class citizens, I reacted immediately with anger. Later, my anger turned to sadness.

I have been looking for a place to begin volunteering regularly. It's tremendously important to me to continue to serve, especially since service is no longer my full time job. It would be easy for me to slip into academia and be a full time student, filling all of my free time with books, salsa dancing, and socializing. But I would not be fulfilled. And I would not have been true to my passions.

I did a bit of online research and came across an organization that operates very similarly to the one I just left. "Perfect!" I thought, and I traipsed on down there to turn in my volunteer application this Friday morning.

The address on the web gave me the impression that this organization was free standing in its own building, but on that block, all I could find were a giant church (who I'd read was affiliated with this non-profit) and a firehouse. After trying several locked doors, I finally found my way to the church office to ask about the organization. The church is beautiful. It's well decorated, and their technology looks great. There are signs up by a couple of the doors advertising an approaching church expansion, too. They're building a beautiful new courtyard and upgrading their lovely facilities. A man at the desk pointed me to the back of the building, an alley entrance, where the non-profit I was seeking is housed, and I headed on my way.

The aesthetic contrast of these two facilities was more than striking. The organization I was seeking is essentially located in the church basement. Its walls are bright 1970s orange and soiled. The wooden railings on the staircases are worn, and the floors are tiled, industrial. There's a sign on the entrance to the kitchen reminding patrons that camping on church property is strictly forbidden.

The church above is doing well enough financially to improve its already beautiful facilities, while the poor below sit in rooms that look like they haven't been redone in 30-40 years. The hierarchy inherent in this aesthetic statement makes me sick. And oh so angry.

Upon further investigation, I discovered that this non-profit is financially independent from the aforementioned church, but it depends largely on religious organizations for monetary donations. I wonder, how many of the church-goers above donate to the poor below? How many of them have taken it a step further to volunteer in the basement? How many of them have noticed the grungy facilities? WHY AREN'T THEY DOING ANYTHING ABOUT IT?!!

I walked away in anger, initially thinking I could never be a part of such flawed thinking. I cannot perpetuate that kind of hierarchy. I cannot believe that the poor deserve less.

Later that evening, I shared my indignation with some friends who kindly reminded me of my own growth process. I did not come to realize these flawed hierarchies and assumptions until I was surrounded by a conversation of hospitality and hope. I did not understand what it meant to love thy neighbor until I saw it modeled before me. Abandoning this service, or this faith community, because I disagree with their way of doing things (or their apathy), only allows the flawed beliefs to continue. It allows the poor to continue to be treated as second class citizens.

So I think that I'm going to try to spark some conversation, to shake things up a bit. And maybe we'll all learn to love a little better in the process.