A Blog for the Blog-less

I wrote this as a part of our IISC blog at work, which will be launching in May.

I find this video fascinating. My girlfriend showed it to me a few months back as she presented on theology and social media for her graduate program. Aside from the breadth of topics that bloggers can post on, this video gives us an insight on how vital technology, and specifically the Internet, is becoming to our everyday lives.

There is no denying that blogs allow individuals to have a voice. If that voice is read and responded to, communities are created, not limited by physical space. These virtual, content-oriented communities are especially strong in arenas such as Twitter. Twitter is a dynamic and responsive interface for conversation. Blogs have the same ability, though the conversation is not necessarily as seamless as it can be on Twitter. Regardless, the powers of shared thought, understanding and education are alive in these worlds and there exists a great potential to create real action, and even social change.

What I often question is how this will all play out over time, because though blogs are a tool which are not limited by physical space, access to their creation and use is limited. Blogs, and social media overall, are limited by the resources one has at their fingertips (pun somewhat intended), be it a computer, Internet access, electricity or even literacy.

History shows us those with technology often grow at an exponentially greater rate than those without it. So how do we most effectively create sustainable social change with the aid of social media, without further separating ourselves from the majority of the world (which doesn't have constant access to a computer)?

Hugh Jackman, Australian dreamboat and actor, recently said he wanted to donate $100,000 to charity and asked his Twitter followers who he should donate to. After thousands of suggestions, Jackman said he would donate $50,000 to two different charities, Operation of Hope and Charity:Water. Both are incredible organizations. Most inspiring though is that this a success story on the power social media has to aid in social change. (Credit where it is due, my knowledge of Jackman's charity donation is again the result of my girlfriend.)

Today we can communicate in ways rarely dreamed of five years ago. To have a voice, to contribute to conversation, to act, are all invaluable to the promotion of justice in our world. From Iran to Twitter, our need to bridge the gaps has never been more pressing, and our potential to create sustainable social change has never been so great.

Finding the Harmony in Worship

I am Catholic and have been finding my way to Mass often recently. I enjoy this very much, and my girlfriend and I have found a wonderful community to share in prayer. The Masses are lively, in Spanish, with upbeat music, fantastic homilies and very kind people in the pews. However, I have found that when I am in another mass, I have a trend of making jokes while at Mass, I think to lighten the mood a little.

The church we attend on Sunday's does not look like your typical cathedral. It is a simple building, with a flat roof, uninspiring flat columns save for the light and sometimes palm placed at the top. The alter area is deep covered in red carpet, with a clean, wooden cross under spotlights on the back wall. The altar sits at the front of this space, with a good thirty feet between itself and the back wall. That space holds a large basin for water, and nothing else. There is so much space that the young children sporadically run around the space during the Mass. I like to think the kids are carefree, either because they are filled with God, or because they are just playing. (I am guessing it is the latter, which, after all, is simultaneously inspiring to and created by the former). There are three chairs to the left of the altar as you are in the pews and the choir sings to the right of the altar. Without the community, the church would not necessarily be the prettiest a Catholic or Christian or anyone has seen. But when the people enter, the R's start to roll, the clapping and music begin, the children start to run, the strangers greet each other as the celebration commences, the church erupts with life. It is exciting! And joyous! To the point that all of us who ever doubted that we could enter Mass as a Catholic and ENJOY it, are quickly corrected. I can't help but take part in the beauty that is to share with one another.

Unfortunately, the opposite often happens when I enter these beautiful, awe-inspiring cathedrals with stained glass windows and towering statues. The chorus starts with it's heavy and orchestrated renditions of hymns, the structure of it all sets in and I feel stiff. I feel uninspired. I play this rebellious game in my head which says, God doesn't like this, and I check my presence out. My mind drifts to soccer or other things which bring me joy and the celebration is lost on me. Sure, it may be part of my own attention span or my maturing to deal with less than ideal situations or lack thereof, but it just doesn't fit the same. Often for this reason, and because I believe God to have a sense of humor, I make jokes, something witty about the recent reading, or change the infliction of my voice as I sing, or even just talk to the person next to me about whatever random thought crosses our minds. I think I just try and make the experience more lively. (The love of my life will be sure to note too that I do this in our church too, and I am not sure why I do it there, and am working to make sure I don't take away from anyone's worship experience.)

Now, I love the ritual and reverence of Catholicism. I think both are essential to Catholicism, but I do think they can be in harmony. I recognize too, my need to respect that for those praying around me, because let's face it, we all connect with something a little differently. It's why tonight at an Easter vigil, while making a joke to a friend, we laughed just above a whisper and were asked to be quiet, and we did abide, because I and we, do respect other's and their space and I do recognize the space as sacred. After all, I would be lying if I said I didn't find comfort in the peace, reverence and sanctity of a church in times of despair. I have been in many empty churches to pray. But we connect with God in the best way we can, and in a way that allows others to do the same. This truth did lead to a funny situation tonight though.

My friend and I were in the vigil tonight which preceded a Mass. We were in a tall cathedral downtown, and I am planning on Easter Mass tomorrow at my parish. We were both unenthusiastic at the proposed length of the service tonight, a good three hours. As the vigil began we contemplated leaving, but figured it best to stay and try with a positive mentality. We did for a while and it was good, and I did have some nice moments of insight and prayer, but as the vigil drew near a close, we spoke of leaving before the Mass began.

To explain a little about Catholic Mass, at the beginning, the priest and acolytes process in from the back of the church to the altar in the front, and in front of the church someone walks in with the Gospel. (The four books of the Bible which document Jesus's time on earth and the very sacred piece of readings in Mass). The structure of vigil and Mass was, the procession in, seven readings, each followed by a song and a prayer, then after reading seven, the beginning of the Mass. This included, a reading (for which you sit), a Gospel acclamation to introduce the Gospel (for which you stand) and then the Gospel (for which you remain standing), followed then by the homily (the preaching) and the Mass continues.

Well, at the beginning of the vigil, we saw everyone process in, but failed to miss the fact that the Gospel had not been brought in. Our plan was to walk to the back of the church during the Gospel acclamation, listen to the Gospel while in the back of the church and then leave after that. So as the vigil ended, and we all stood for the Gospel acclamation, we made our way to the aisle. And of course, what was I to see when we entered the aisle, but the Gospel being walked down the aisle, with an acolyte spreading incense in front. Needless to say, it is not the place to be. I mean, it was just disbelief. It was something to be found in a movie (but as you can see, I am not one who writes movie scripts). We went to the back after the Gospel passed, listened to the Gospel, left and chatted about what we needed to worship and connect with God. All in all though, a wonderful night and a kind vigil.

So what do you need to pray, to connect? Do you feel stifled in the high ceilings? Where do you find God?

Misguided Presumptions

My experiences in Latin America have had me cross paths with people who are economically poor and typically of the political left. Recently, I have equated this truth with a subconscious presumption I had of Latin@s in the US: Latin@s in the US were leaving their home country for opportunity. Opportunity not afforded to them in their home country, and I presumed because their political party wasn't in power in their home country, or because they did not have the education necessary to succeed financially in their home country. I figured they left because of some injustice. But I recently had my thought altered.

One of the men who works maintenance in my office building is from El Salvador. He must be about 20, 21, maybe 22. I learned this a month or so after starting there as we began to talk one day. We shared a little bit about our love for papusas and different places around San Salvador, and as time has gone on we have chatted here and there. A few weeks ago, El Salvador had their presidential elections. It was between many parties for sure, but the main two were ARENA (mainly of the right) and FMLN (of the left). Long story short (a VERY long story) the FMLN won. I was very excited, and two days later went to mention it to my Salvadoran friend at the office. I expected him to share the same excitement. I expected this young man from El Salvador in the US would clearly want the progressive candidate in power. Oh Silly Santi.

He told me, "It's bad". And he said it with a knowledge and understanding that would echo the tone of many US Americans in early November of 2004. At that point, either humbled or confused, I kindly said, "oh yeah, well, we will see..." and dropped the conversation quickly. I was taken.

Then, just this weekend, Marina and I were in an IHOP and it was evident our waitress was from Latin America. We got to talking to her, and were trying to guess her accent. It turned out she was from Ecuador, Guayaquil nonetheless and I was sharing with her some information of other Ecuadorians I knew in the area. Of course, here I am thinking, once again, that she had little other options in Ecuador and came to the States for better financial opportunities. Oh, how ignorant of me, for it's not always about money and economical justice and opportunity.

She had married a US American and moved here, but not before graduating with a degree in medicine as a doctor in Ecuador. Again I just thought, wow, open your mind Santi!! When did it get so shut. And now, as Marina had mentioned to me, the humbling act she goes through daily, serving customers at an IHOP when she has a degree in medicine, which she would have to retest for licensing here in the States. But I guess we learn and remember.

I remember when I was younger and a great soccer coach of mine told me, "everyone has a story" and the more we learn, the more profound that simple statement becomes.