Just when I thought that I had social justice figured out, that night served as a jolting reminder of my privilege and complacency.
I’ve come to realize this past year that the striking contrast between being a JV and a capitalist actor manifests in the relation of myself to the rest of the world — a cataclysmic shift from freely and generously giving my time to speculating and assessing the monetary estimate of my productivity.
With Dis-Orientation just completed for the current JVs, I feel obligated to reminisce on where my heart was just twelve short months ago.
I can attest that JVC’s foundational enshrinement of solidarity is just as alive and beautiful today, because its raw power and emotion has bled outside of my JV year and pierced my life in small, tender ways as an FJV.
Most of the things I do on a daily basis now, I do alone: commuting, working, exercising, and eating, just to name a few. I find myself in these moments wanting to invite God to join me in the accompanying bus seat or at the dinner table. In these moments, I find God in the comfort of remembering my JV community. Their presence pervaded the minute details of my routine in Houston, and I can’t help but think of them every day.
While I try to maintain a sense of the past year through conversations and this blog, nothing captures it as poignantly as my dreams. They beg me to question how my life after JVC serves people besides myself.
There were many factors that flew me down to Houston, Texas, for my year as a Jesuit Volunteer. However, as I suspect may have been the case for others too, a sense of doubt accompanied my answers to curious and slightly disapproving questions from family, friends, and even my own internal inquisitions.