how to burst a bubble

The past election season made me painfully aware of Americans’ collective inability to actually listen to folks we disagree with. I say we because I’m not immune—every time I “unfollow,” “unfriend,” or pick the cable news channel of my leaning, I fortify my “bubble.”

This bubble effect not only produced mass shock on November 8th, but has characterized the political gridlock that now seems so commonplace in Washington. A contributing factor, I’d wager, is our misdirected discourse. We speak different languages on opposite sides of the aisle and usually fail to make our messages palatable to the other side or concede anything short of our full agenda. 

       One example concerns a hot-button issue in this year’s election: immigration—more specifically, refugee resettlement. One side uses a mixture of reason and fear to argue that all resettlement should be halted until…[fill in the blank]. The other side appeals emotionally about the victimhood of refugees, but also casts plenty of stones at the perceived xenophobia of the first side. If we learned to communicate on the same wavelength, I think we could take a few small steps toward progress. 

       This message is mainly for my fellow progressives: If you really care about refugees, learn to speak Republican. There’s common ground to be found with a little empathy.

       Historically speaking, the conservative perspective concerning immigration has generally focused on three things: families, economics, and safety. The US has tended to favor immigrants who are a part of a family (the 1965 Immigration and Nationality Act eliminated the country of origin quota system and gave entry preference to immediate family members), who work hard (Reagan’s ’86 legislation granted legal status to unauthorized laborers who had been working for at least 90 days), and who pose no danger (remember Japanese internment camps?). When talking to your conservative friends about immigration, these are three areas you’ll want to mention!

       Let’s start with security. First of all, even GOP stances on national security and the threat posed by outsiders have shifted wildly in the last 30 years. See this video comparing immigration views of Republican primary frontrunners in 1980 and 2016.

       A common concern is that refugees (especially from the middle east) are being hurried through the screening process and insufficiently patted down for criminal histories or ties to terrorism. This is where many conservatives use reason over emotion, or as the Alabama Governor put it, “My heart tells me to let these people in, but my head tells me I must protect the people of Alabama.” Progressives appreciate security too and should meet this type of rhetoric not with dismissal, but with reason of their own. You can familiarize yourself with the vetting process here.

       The other way progressives can appeal to conservatives is by talking money and values. Syrian refugees (the group most scrutinized right now) are more educated than the average American, with nearly 20% having a graduate degree. These are potential entrepreneurs, researchers, doctors, and professionals. This web page from USCRI (US Committee for Refugees and Immigrants) showcases the economic benefits of settling refugees, including work ethic, retention, loyalty, family focus, paying taxes, spending locally, trade skills, diversity, and language skills.

       I think we have more in common than we realize. I just need to pop my bubble every once in a while to see it. I hope you’ll join me.

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an Epiphany epiphany

This morning I helped decorate my parents' house for Christmas. I sipped my Folgers and put on the obligatory Mariah Carey Holiday Pandora station (I'll be darned if you can listen to "All I Want for Christmas is You" and refrain from dancing around your living room alone). 

I opened a cardboard box containing a small wooden nativity set and a plastic, light-up Star of Bethlehem. Illuminated by the star which I had plugged in, I began to arrange the whittled characters. 

Usually in these nativity scenes we see baby Jesus and the proud new parents at center stage, with the shepherds flanking one side, and the wise men kneeling at the other. But for whatever reason, as I placed the birch figurines on the table, I felt compelled to intermingle the gift-bearing rulers and staff-wielding herdsmen.

Many have read Luke's account of Jesus’s birth and how it invited and equalized the lowly shepherds and noble wise men. But what if it did more than that? 

What if under the light of that star, the shepherds and wise men knelt hand-in-hand to give thanks and pray for each other? What if the two parties walked away from the manger together, broke bread, and shared stories? What if that evening's encounter forever changed their vertical relation to God AND their horizontal relation to their fellow man?

This year—perhaps more than any year I’ve experienced before—we’re in desperate need of the unity and solidarity that this season can bring. I hope that the celebration of Christ’s coming causes us to kneel and reflect, AND that it compels us to stand up and act. I pray that we "quake at the sight of love's pure light" AND that we join in song to declare that "in His name all oppression shall cease."

I'm so thankful that in the brilliant light of God's love, we're all the same. AND I long for that realization to not be the end, but the beginning of the story. 

if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere

A couple weeks ago, I felt the familiar disposition to get out of New York City for a while. I stashed my passport and a hundred bucks into an envelope, loaded my backpack with a book and a change of clothes, and hopped a northbound Amtrak for Montreal.

We crossed the Canadian border just before nightfall and I bid adieu to the hectic existence I had come to know while a serene Quebec sunset quietly silhouetted fleeting silos in a barren landscape.

When I checked in at the hostel, the clerk couldn't believe I had come to Montreal to "get away." I suppose most of the people he encounters come to the city to party or sight see. But when you live in a place like Manhattan, Montreal is a perfectly acceptable destination for a quiet weekend escape.

He pointed me to the nearest coffee shop where I enjoyed a steaming cup of joe and breathed in the relative peace that Canada so graciously offered. But despite my best efforts to spend a three-day weekend completely removed from even the thought of New York City, I often found my mind drifting that way.

It first began when I wandered down into a Montreal subway station to ask the attendant how to get to the Quartier Latin. He handed me a colorful, pocket-sized subway map that clearly marked the city's three subway lines. After mastering the Big Apple's sprawling, interconnected nebulous of underground tunnels, I wasn't too worried about finding my way around Montreal (even if I couldn't interpret most of its foreign signs).

After lunch the next day I had plans to meet my friend Alexandre for coffee, so I asked the waitress for walking directions to Mount Royal Avenue. "You want to walk?" she clarified doubtingly. "It's a really long walk," she warned, "Probably thirty minutes."

"Thirty minutes!?" I sarcastically thought to myself as I pulled my cap on tight over my ears and bounded toward Mount Royal Avenue. "I'm a New Yorker; I walk everywhere."

Later that afternoon, after coffee and a stroll in the park, I was chatting with a friendly park ranger named Andre. Andre asked me where I was staying while in Montreal and I told him the Latin Quarter. "Oh that's a nice place," he said as his smile relaxed and he leaned closer, "Just be careful after dark--there are lots of homeless."

"I'll do that," I assured my new Canadian ami, though I really felt like saying, "Please...I live in Harlem...this place feels like Midtown to me."

Lately I've found a lot of resonance in the classic Sinatra lyric, "If I can make it there (New York), I'll make it anywhere."

There's no doubt that New York can be a tough place to live. But an uncomfortable setting can forge an enduring character and I know that I'm stronger because of my experiences here. How is your environment challenging you to be a better character?

smile because it happened

Immense doesn't begin to describe the range of emotions I've felt over the past few days. After completing one of the toughest, yet most formational experiences of my life and leaving a city that has become home and friends that have become family, I'm emotionally exhausted.

Me and the roomies at Coney Island

Bittersweet doesn't really capture my mood either--there isn't much sweet about it.

But at a time like this, a familiar saying comes to mind: "Don't cry because it's over; smile because it happened." 

I've been smiling a lot recently.

There's the ear-to-ear smile brought about by uncontrollable laughter and sheer exuberation.

There's also the teary-eyed kind that, despite the look of it, comes from a deep sense of satisfaction and profound accomplishment.

Best team ever. No question.

And of course there's the kind of smile that I've found myself wearing most often in recent weeks. It's almost a one-sided grin with a sparkle in the eyes. It's the one belonging to someone who knows something that you don't. Someone who's completely content and supremely at peace. Someone whose thoughts and experiences can't quite be put into words or onto paper, but whose memories are rich. Memories which won't fade.

The memories are all I could ask for. I smile.

from heartbreak to hope

A week ago, today, a tragic event shook the school where I work and the community where I live. One of our 5th graders named Joel took his own life. You can read the story here. 

I was in the room with the other 5th graders when our principal broke the sad news. I watched them wipe their tears and write goodbye letters to their friend Joel. I didn't know him well, but all signs say he was a smiley, happy kid, as any 5th grader should be.

Our school community is still figuring out how to cope with this awful situation and it has stirred my pensive mind. Was there more I could have done? Are there more Joels out there that I can reach?

It's hard for me to imagine what drives a 12-year-old to believe that no life at all is better than the one they have, but I suspect that it starts with one little misfortune, frustration, or bad day--then another and another.

My heart grieves thinking about this, but I know that the opposite is true, too: it takes just one smile, one high five, or one short conversation to give someone hope.

Through Joel's tragedy, hope is blossoming.

In the past week I've cherished my time more, held my students a little tighter, and reached deep to find energy when I thought I had given all I had.

In the past week I've seen a community come together and support each other the way that it should.

And in the past week I've seen students rethink the ramifications of what seems like innocent bullying--a conversation that I pray will continue.

A Coldplay lyric comes to my mind at a time like this: "Every siren is a symphony and every tear's a waterfall."  

We're all connected. Our pain is collective and our burdens are shared. We have the capacity to affect each other in ways we don't realize. We can choose to tear each other down or we can decide to build one another up. God, help us choose the latter. Let us see the divine in each person we pass. Let us see each other as brothers and sisters.

trayvon martin is why i go to church

Yesterday afternoon, as I was opening the refrigerator to find something to drink, my roommate Esteban abruptly asked me, "Nate, why do you go to church?" Hmm...bit of a strange question, I thought to myself as I searched for an answer and a bottle of water.

"Well, I guess it's because it helps me stay focused on my faith," I responded half-heartedly. Growing up in the Bible Belt, I learned from an early age how to respond to theologically-complex conundrums like the trinity or original sin, but this simple query caught me on my heels.

Why do I go to church? I began to ponder.

This morning I went to Metro Hope Church, here in my neighborhood, East Harlem. Most people in the congregation were wearing hoodies in support of Trayvon Martin, the black teen who was gunned down last month while walking home from his friend's house in a gated community in Florida. Trayvon's killer was never arrested and currently faces no charges (as of February, 2012; Zimmerman was later arrested).

Wearing our hoodies, we had a time of prayer and reflection. We asked God for justice, healing, and reconciliation. We confessed our shortcomings and prayed that God would remove our deep-seated prejudices. We prayed that the church (the followers of Jesus) would be the institution that leads the charge in confronting racism and hatred.

In that moment I was reminded of why I go to church.

We live in a broken world, marred by unclean hands and hearts. The sad truth is that the natural human tendency is to hurt rather than to help. The injustices we see in our neighborhoods and in our homes are a result of that flaw. I believe that God's love is the answer--the only force strong enough to overcome human hatred.

As long as there is hatred in the world, I want to be on the side of love. As long as there are hurting people in my neighborhood, I want to be a part of the cure. Trayvon Martin is why I go to church. Injustice is why I go to church. I go to church because, when my own love runs empty, it's the only place where I can be refilled with an abundant source of life-giving, world-changing love.

MLK Day: leave a legacy of service

This is an op-ed I was asked to write for City Year's upcoming MLK Day of service. These opinions are mine and not necessarily affiliated with City Year.
 
“Everybody can be great because everybody can serve.” I doubt this is the first time you’ve read these famous words of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and I know I’m not the first service-based non-profit volunteer to quote the revered activist whose life we commemorate on Monday, January 16th.

But even if King’s words have been belabored to the point of redundancy, we can never overemphasize his simple message: service equals greatness. This is why I choose to spend MLK Day by serving in East Harlem with City Year New York.

As a tutor and mentor at PS/MS 57 in East Harlem, I often find myself telling the students I work with that they can do something great with their lives. That’s not just something I say lightly; these kids are truly special.

Jalen is one of the fifth graders in our after school program. He is a great athlete. Sometimes at recess we play basketball together and of course I have to let his classmates score on me every once in a while. But when it’s just me against Jalen, there are no deliberate bricks; I try my hardest and he still beats me.

Tony is another of the gifted students I work with. He has a great mind. When his fourth grade class was studying haikus, most other kids were stuck counting syllables on their fingers while Tony was analyzing the poet’s word choice and conceptualizing ideas like tone and metaphor.

But regardless of athleticism or intellect, I know that every one of my students has the potential to achieve greatness because they each have the ability to serve.

Dr. King, however, would be the first to tell you that true service involves more than just ability; it requires a “heart full of grace,” as he put it, and a “soul generated by love.” When we’re able to serve others with no personal agenda, we are exhibiting the truest sense of love and what it means to be human.

Unfortunately, it’s harder to teach a fourth grader “a heart full of grace” than it is multiplication tables. And “a soul generated by love” doesn’t come as easily to middle school students as does subject-verb agreement. But if there’s one lesson I hope to teach—or better yet, to learn—during my year of service with City Year, it’s that being a servant is the greatest thing you can ever do.

Exactly two months before his death, Martin Luther King concluded his famous Drum Major Instinct speech by envisioning the eulogy at his own funeral:

[Don’t] mention that I have a Nobel Peace Prize—that isn’t important. Tell them not to mention where I went to school [or] that I have three or four hundred other awards—that’s not important. I'd like somebody to mention that day that Martin Luther King Jr. tried to give his life serving others.

January 16th, 2012 is your chance to carry on King’s legacy of service and to begin your own. For many, MLK Day has become “a day on, not a day off.” City Year New York, alongside community volunteers and corporate sponsors, will spend the day building bookshelves, constructing planter boxes, and painting murals for several East Harlem schools and organizations.

Indeed it’s true: everybody can be great because everybody can serve. But we don’t do service because we want to be considered great; service is never a selfish thing. We don’t do service just to bolster our resumes or to be quoted in newspapers. We serve because it’s what makes us human.