There's a Joke in Here, Somewhere.

“I have done nothing wrong.”

She sang in an nervous canon, strangely steady and sure as the notes of her native Spanish betrayed her narrow second tongue. Shackled, with eyes locked on the magistrate seated above her, above us all, her sharp features etched themselves in my mind. Surrounded by lawyers in suits flurrying at her departure from script, she waited as the entire court room watched. Many, I'm sure, held their breath.

More than sixty men in chains waited as the judge droned on, “Do you understand the nature of the charges against you?”

The woman had been apprehended on the United States border in the Sonoran desert three days earlier. All statistics indicate that she likely had traveled on foot in harsh terrain for at least five days. It is almost certain that in those five days she had little water and less food. It is almost certain that she had been raped.

“You have been charged with the petty offense of illegal entry into the United States. You crossed the border where there was no port of entry so as to avoid inspection by a federal agent. Do you understand the nature of the charges against you?”

Her lawyer whispered in her hear and then spoke to the judge. Her face was not visible to the gallery, but must have shown confusion. The United States Marshal snickered.

She was led back to her seat and six men were called up in her place as six had been called before her.

This is Operation Streamline, one of the U.S. Government's responses to the thousands of migrants crossing our borders every year. This particular iteration happened on the afternoon of Friday, April 29 in Tucson, Arizona, but some version of it happens in 3 or 4 cities near our southwestern border every day. Between 60 and 100 people recently caught by Border Patrol, most with no criminal backgrounds, are brought to court each morning to meet with a lawyer to discuss their legal options. Then, in the afternoon, they are paraded before a judge six or more at a time and asked to plead guilty, waiving their right to a trial. The day that I witnessed this, nearly everyone who had been charged for the first time was sentenced to time served and deported.

The maximum sentence for the misdemeanor is a $5000 fine and six months in prison.

When I first walked into the courtroom, I saw all of the people sitting quietly and waiting to begin. It wasn't until ten minutes later that a young man was pulled from the group and I realized everyone was in chains. Everyone had their wrists shackled together and to their feet. In this moment, I was overwhelmed with this perversion of power and how exclusive that our people and our government have allowed our nation to become. I wondered where Jesus would have been sitting.

I don't claim to have any or all of the answers but I know that criminalizing men and women for crossing a line doesn't feel like justice. I know that I believe in and strive to follow a God that has put me and all people in a world where there is enough for everyone and I know that I wanted to hug each and every soul that walked out of that courtroom to be sent back to the beginning of their journey.

After a whispered conversation, Desi Maria was led back to the microphone and after trying to explain that she had crossed the border out of necessity, that it was her last option for a decent life or a life at all, she plead guilty to illegal entry and was sentenced to deportation.

I invite you to respond as you please. I also invite you to read a Berkeley review of Operation Streamline by clicking on this sentence.

Prayers

Pray for Desi Maria. Pray for my mom. Pray for your mom. Pray for all moms. I love you, Mom.

For this is the message you heard from the beginning: We should love one another.

This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers and sisters. If anyone has material possessions and sees a brother or sister in need but has no pity on them, how can the love of God be in that person? Dear children, let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth. - 1 John 3:11, 16-18

Part-Time Parenting

My name is Robert, and I (with 5 other people) run a community house.

It's not easy but it's not always hard either. What we want to be is a safe place for kids who live in our neighborhood. We want to be a safe place for these children of Los Angeles, many struggling with issues of poverty, undocumented parents, gangs, and an abysmal school district in addition to all the regular pressures of growing up. Here, we want kids to be able to visit and have a place to play, a place to study and get help studying, a place to form hopes and express dreams, a place where they find encouragement and experience both tough and tender love, and, just maybe, a place to meet God.

Now, our neighborhood can be a bit deceiving. On the surface, it's quite pleasant. The houses and apartments are cute, if a little run-down. Paramount Studios is right next door, bringing with it a flurry of nicer cars that park on the streets but don't belong. As men ring bells on their carts selling cold drinks and corn dripping with mayonnaise while the tamale man wanders the alleyways beckoning you in singsong tones, you might forget about the pressing realities. I often catch myself thinking about how cute my neighborhood is, or how 'small-town' it feels, but reality always sneaks back in. It sneaks back in when you realize that the 'neighborhood' of Hollywood is 3.5 square miles with a population of nearly 24,000 people per square mile. (Use your multiplication skills). For those folks back home, compare the grand city of Concord, at 51.6 square miles with a total population of near 56,000. There are a lot of people here and that doesn't even include the tourists.

Reality sneaks back in when I fall asleep to the sound of LAPD helicopters (affectionately called, 'ghetto birds') circling overhead looking for criminals or when I notice the graffiti change every few weeks. It comes back when I bike up Gower in the morning past the RV's where people who have lost their homes live and sleep. The realities of the world and poverty make me angry when our neighbor calls and asks for a ride to the emergency room when her child who has little more than a cough. It's frustrating to listen to kids tell you about gangs and, whether they are exaggerating or not, about attempts to recruit them. Questions about drugs and violence seep into daily conversations. According to everyone, the LAPD are racist and can't be trusted while the Los Angeles County Sheriffs are worse.

The world that these kids grow up in is about as not 'cozy small-town' and as frightening as it can get. It's made worse when you learn that only ten out of every one hundred freshman who enter a Los Angeles Unified School district high school graduate having taken the necessary college preparatory classes. That means that only ten percent of students graduate with even the chance of applying to college and then have to compete with the graduates from San Diego, San Francisco and students from all over the country. That leaves ninety students, some dropouts and some not, mostly unequipped to excel and succeed (at least, by the school system). It makes it difficult to even believe that the cycle can or will be broken.

And so, these kids come to our La Casa de Communidad four evenings a week and bring this reality with them. Sometimes there are three and sometimes there are twenty. They range in age from three years to sixteen and, many times, we don't know what do with them. But, we try. We play with them and help them with homework if they ask. We talk to them about their lives and about ours while answering questions about God and faith. When they misbehave, we demand change or firmly request that they go home. We're always trying to figure out better ways to connect and better ways to teach, not just academics but habits and lessons that might lead to a better life than these children believe they can have. Really, we just try to love them.

Sometimes this means jumping up and down and screaming with a little kid for ten minutes (an exhilarating workout) and sometimes it means discovering how frustrating algebra can be. It's trying to figure out what kids are saying behind codewords and Spanish (and Spanish codewords) and encouraging honesty and understanding in a world that no one understands. It's hard. It's frustrating. It's exhausting. It's fun. We do the best we can, and, while we can probably do better, I think we're doing a pretty good job.

Prayers

Pray for the community house, the kids, me and my housemates. Pray that we can find God's guidance, God's love, and God's energy.

What, then, shall we say in response to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things? Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies. Who then is the one who condemns? No one. Christ Jesus who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? --Romans 8:31-35

Living and Loving

So, a few folks have contacted me in various ways since my last post and expressed concerns for my safety. I appreciate all of the concerns, but let me try and alleviate them, if only a bit. You see, the first concern of all members of the Outreach team is safety. The number one rule is that, when going to encounter a client, you always have a partner. You don't leave your partner and your partner doesn't leave you. We have been trained to always be aware of our surroundings and to position ourselves for quick escape if necessary. Sometimes this is complex because body postures and positioning that are aimed for safety do not always invite comfort and trust. Our supervisors have told us that if we ever feel unsafe, all we have to do is express that feeling and we will leave the situation, whether it be in conversation with one client or approaching an encampment of twenty people. I also want to mention that the people I work with have years of experience with the homeless in outreach and shelter environments and that they share knowledge about expectations and safety openly. My boss has been working in outreach for more than 10 years. All other employees have at least 3 years experience with the homeless. So, if you have been worried about my safety on the streets in my job, I thank you, but be comforted by the fact it is our priority. While no situation is completely safe, we do our best to minimize risk.

But now, a little about some of my week and of course, some thoughts. On Monday, two of my roommates and I went to a filming of the show Community (Watch Thursdays on NBC!). This not a show that typically is recorded with a live studio audience. We were lucky (and grateful)to have been invited by one of the show's stars and member of Hollywood Presbyterian, Joel McHale. The show is recorded on Stage 31 in Paramount Studios, which is literally a three minute walk from our apartment. I want to say that it's weird when you cross into the studio. You go from this low income neighborhood full of older apartments, vegetable trucks, and people struggling to make it day to day into Paramount Studios with its Little New York, actors dressed in period outfits (apparently) filming French silent films, and star trailers filled with food and comfort. It's another world in there and, even though you only see walls from the outside, that world is always there.

But anyway, it was fun to watch the show be filmed. We were on set for about six hours (except for lunch...which we got for free from the snack trailer) and saw like a grand total of two minutes of television being filmed. It's definitely an interesting process. In the one scene that was filmed the entire time we were there (again, about six hours), they would aim the cameras at one or two actors, do multiple takes to ensure they got the right dialogue in the right way or in different ways (happy, sad, loud, quiet, etc.) just in case they changed their minds later and then they would set-up the cameras for a different angle or on a different actor and do it all over again. I'll just say that there are 23 minutes of action in an episode and that it typically takes 5 to 7 days to wrap the filming. So, we saw that, got to talk to the writer, met a few of the stars, and got a tour of the stage from the gaffer (the guy who handles lighting) who happened to have grown up around the studio (his father was gaffer before he was). We learned that the studio was built by Howard Hughes, but because he was cheap, he invented a system to open the stage doors with the city's water pressure rather than invest in an electric opener. Clever. Also, for anyone who cares, the episode we saw was being directed by Jay Chandrasekhar (Thorny from Super Troopers) and he's taller than I expected.

But, like I said, it was cool to meet the stars and find that they were all pretty laid back and nice. It was definitely fun to watch the dynamic of the group work just like any other team in any other job. But it was weird to think that the next day, I'd be back on the streets talking to the poor and homeless while these folks went on arguing about their lines. And this is a lesson that I think I've been learning for a long time. I learned it in Sunday School when I was kid. I learned it when I went through all the pain from the accident and the people in the hospital rooms on either side of me were experiencing the same horrible pain. Now I have learned it in Beverly Hills at a gala hosted at a billionaire's mansion. I've learned it sharing space and resources with my housemates. And I've learned it talking to TV stars at crafts services behind the scenes. God loves all people, He loves them from the diabetic homeless man who had his insulin stolen, to the pregnant heroin-abusing woman peeing behind a trash can, to billionaire textile importers, to the Scientologists dressed in uniforms pruning their bushes down the street, to the man plotting to bomb a subway or skyscraper, to the mother cooking dinner for her family, to the immigrant crossing the desert in the cold of night, and Chevy Chase. Yes, God loves Chevy Chase...even after Vegas Vacation. God loves them and God wants them. The funny thing is, most of these people just want to be treated with a little respect and a little bit of love. And most of them are capable of giving it in return.

When we were talking to the amputee that I met on the streets of Westchester last week, whose insulin had been stolen two weeks prior, a number of other homeless people approached us and told us how worried they were about him and how he needed help. That pregnant herion-addict I mentioned, she and her boyfriend had loaned their blankets to the man, to Roy, and watched over him as he deteriorated. We ended up calling the paramedics to take him to the hospital and I know he can use our prayers, but the point is that all people need our love. It's an easy thing to say and it's easy to put aside. It's a lesson that I've had to learn again and again (and again), but I'm happy that I'm learning it in Hollywood now. It's a great place to practice because I can't think of many other places where I can talk to a man who has been homeless for 4 and a half years and then cross a wall where, literally on the other side, I can share that same love and respect with an actor dressed in the newest shoes and snacking on tuna salad and lettuce (so he stays in shape for his contract).

Loving each other is hard and its easy to forget, but it's something that we're called to do. And I want to say that I don't think it ends with just talking to each other or sharing a sandwich, even though that's a good start. I think that it means wanting the best for everyone and thinking about the systems that we subscribe to, that we allow to shape the world into a place that lets Roy exist in the same city, subsisting on less than ten dollars and the care of people with little more, with the gated communities of Beverly Hills and actors laughing on the other side of the wall. However, we are not meant to just ponder these systems; we are meant to change them. You see, we built that wall and it is far past time that we tear it down.

Prayers

Pray for Roy. Pray for my brother, Turner, who just sent his first college application. Pray for my housemates and I as we plan our community house structure and events. Pray for people on both sides of the wall, pray that they will meet and both will be changed for God's glory.

Take your pay and go. I want to give the man who was hired last the same as I gave you. --Matthew 20:14

Also, HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOM!

Sooo, like, I'm Here and I've Been Here, and It Looks Like I'll Keep Being Here....

I like long titles, so, deal with it.

The first two weeks in Hollywood have been interesting, neat, thoughtful, surreal, and a whole lot of other things. I've told some people that it's odd being in a town where I've heard of all of the street names but never have put faces on them. I mean, I live between Santa Monica and Melrose Boulevards, and last week, my housemates and I drove down Ventura into the Valley, like, totally, the Valley, though I didn't see any vampires. Vine, like the Vine in Hollywood & Vine is a block to my west  and Paramount Studios a block to the east. So, it's weird, but I think I'm over it. For instance, there was  a red-carpet premiere last night outside the gym I've joined, and they were blocking the sidewalk...so annoying.

So, I don't really know what to say about the first two weeks here. We've seen some cool stuff--Chinatown, a bakery and restaurant run by former gang members, the Walk of Fame, and we've met a number of powerful Christians with tales of faith and giving that are amazing. I've had conversations with a few homeless people, some excited to talk about their pasts (imagined or not) and others about sports (mostly the Lakers) or old-beat up hearses. It's been an interesting ride so far, with a lot of prayer and a lot of getting-to-know my housemates (or I should say, my community), our neighborhood, relearning how-to-ride-a-bike, and so much more. Yesterday was our first day of work, and I think that it, along with the next few days, may deserve their own post, so watch out for that, but I'll say that the first day was very cool and that it made me only more excited about what I'm doing this year.

And, with that, I think I'll end it...or, at least, it'll be over soon.

Prayers

Please pray for my housemates, Alayna from South Dakota, Alex from Pittsburgh, Brady and Josh from Indiana, and Kyle from Tennessee as we continue to learn to love and live with each other and figure out our new jobs. Pray for the people we meet and the immediate neighborhood  around Gregory Avenue as we begin to open La Casa de Communidad to our neighbors and discern their needs.


Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says. James 1:22