The Contrasts of Place

Today is a day of contrasts. 

This morning from 9-12 was my second shift of what promises to become a regular Thursday morning commitment: volunteering at God's Little Acre (GLA).  GLA is a house owned by Seattle Mennonite that the church converted into a drop-in center.  A year and a half ago when I was the pastoral intern there, the community ministers had just gotten the new building permit approved and God's Little Acre was up and running for the first time.  Now, eighteen months later, it is open at least five days a week for showers, laundry, food, hanging out, and Stop, Drop, and Roll, and it is staffed by a diverse team of volunteers.  It smells like bleach, coffee (Folgers, or whatever's cheap), and stale cigarette smoke, and one of the rooms is stocked from floor to ceiling with food and clothes.  I could rave about Seattle Mennonite's commitment to the homeless, about how they have responded to the need in their neighborhood, about how they have answered the call of God/justice/hope in their midst, but you can actually read about that here. 

What I will say is that this morning keeps me grounded.  First, it cuts back on the mindless television, Facebooking, etc. that threatens to consume my days off.  It gives me, instead, something purposeful to do: at GLA I am a pastoral presence, a companion, a listener, a provider of the morning paper, a server and cleaner, stable person, a de-escalator of conflict.  It also reminds me to look for and to see the people who slip through the cracks of society, the people who rarely make it down to Richmond Beach Congregational.  It reminds me of the poor and how we must constantly be striving for justice and constantly finding old and new ways to tell the truth.  I also am touched by the people I am with there.  Some of the GLA folks are incredibly honest and authentic - not inhibited by the trappings of class and wealth that choke the rest of us.  Others have an ornery streak - not all that different from the teens I work with, testing boundaries, manipulating with charm or insolence.  Here is humanity, stripped down past internet connections and ipods.

Today, when I left God's Little Acre, I headed for University Village.  U-Village is an upscale shopping and dining center not far from the University of Washington.  It features stores like Crate and Barrel, Tiffany & Co., Apple, and others that I've never heard of because where I come from, JC Penney is good enough.  But I'm getting ahead of myself.  Here I met a wonderful group of UCC youth leaders to talk about the upcoming senior high mid-winter retreat.  We met at Starbucks.  They don't serve Folgers there.  There were people walking around in their brand name clothes with those skinny jeans that seem real popular these days.  I also saw many shopping bags, lot's of made up women, and high-class strollers.  Don't get me wrong - the meeting was great and the people I met are awesome.  The atmosphere, though was the wrong place for me after my morning.

I could try to bumble out some more of the major contrasts between my morning place and my afternoon place, but I fear I'd fall further into stereotypes.  Instead, I'll leave you with this thought:

The places we occupy are infused with morality.  The market that works to influence our decisions about where we go often obscures economic assumptions hidden within itself.  We consumers experience those assumptions as reality, as we are not equipped with the proper leverage to question those assumptions.  As a result, we experience the places we occupy as morally and ethically neutral despite the way that each place carries definitive markers of class.  Perhaps, as one great minister said to me several years ago, the first thing we need to do is to pay attention.