"For remember, the one undeniably true statement that we can make about God is that God is mystery. So we are people engaged in grappling with mystery, or perhaps better, with whom mystery is grappling." Michael Himes.

I was raised in a secure environment and taught to believe that, if you went to school, received your degree, and worked hard, your life would be relatively easy and smooth. But, as one grows older, life can become a little messy...parents die, illness strikes, jobs come and go, people come and go. Life is chaos at times.

More often than not, it is in this chaos that we find ourselves in those moments when the Mystery grapples with us. Such moments are for me comparable to the wrestling match between.Jacob and the "angel of God" at Peniel (Genesis 32:23-32).

I was first conscious of that wrestling when I was twelve years old and felt my heart "strangely warmed,, as John Wesley put it in describing his own conversion. This was the beginning of a journey that is not yet over, a journey haunted by the endless wrestling match with the Mystery that reached out to call me to ministry. This wrestling, while always exhausting, has brought moments in the chaos of feeling blessed by the Mystery. After these moments of blessing, I sigh and think, "Good, peace at last." And then it begins again.

I came to Polk Street in October of 1994 to live out my "dream ministry," believing that in following what I understood to be my "true call," all would be well, and there would be peace and an end to the wrestling. But coming to Polk Street was the beginning of the most intense wrestling match of all - between me and the One I call the Divine Lover - for, you see, on these streets I found the Mystery most present, and indeed what goes on here, in this painful, violent, chaotic, occasionally beautiful world of the streets is Mystery.

My wrestling with the Mystery is most intense in terms of the lives of the people I serve. I grapple with the Mystery as to why there must be so much intense suffering...in 19 year old Brian, whose body is covered with abscesses, who fights so hard against addictions but fails again and again...in Ozzie, who died at 19 after seven years of living on the street, his body at the end looking like that of a 40 year old...in 21 year old Crystal, who sells her body for drugs and to support her baby and who is turned away from treatment programs night after night because there is no room for her. I grapple with the Mystery, asking why a city with so much conspicuous wealth is allowed to go on begrudging social programs every little cent.

My wrestling with the Mystery involves the reality that, in the people I live and work among every day, one finds not only the effects of humanity's inhumanity to fellow humans, an inhumanity which all too often these people in turn inflict on themselves and each other, but also Christ most vitally present, as the people I serve embody in their actions and responses to me the most intense and incarnate compassion. On these streets humanity's best and worst are starkly in evidence and that is part of the Mystery.

The Mystery grapples with me in my own humanity. For on these streets I am brought face to face with myself, my own passions, weakness and fears. Yet in what I often see as a vulgar, not not particularly smart person, that Mystery in mercy seems to see a human being seeking to be faithful...and the Mystery continues, remarkably, to bless him. That blessing is never more palpably present than on each Sunday evening as the bread is broken, the wine poured and the words "This is the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world" spoken. In those moments, the Mystery is that God allows such a broken human being as I to be His priest and the conduit for Her mercy.

And so the wrestling continues, and so do the blessings. What I learn in the midst of the struggle would be a cliche were it not so true: life is not perfect; life will never be perfect; don't try to make people or things perfect...life is about living in the balance of the unbalanced, the imperfect, the never finished, the never totally secure, the never "happily ever after." And the most important truth of all: that my home is in God and God makes Her home within me, within you, within those I serve.

A Reflection from Summer Intern Sarah Nathan

This summer has been filled with unexpected tasks. I had to do a lot of grunt work, but really the grunt work is all part of running an organization. I have learned an immense amount of information. Doing outreach is the glory of Temenos Catholic Worker because you get validation for the work and also it gives me the ability to try to make an impact on people. At first, I was disappointed that I did not form more relationships or have more time to talk to everyone on an individual basis. But my time on the street was limited by my parents and my need to have time with my friend while I was home for the summer. It is difficult to balance my home life with the work I do on the street. The discrepancies between the two lifestyles are immense and contradict one another. The more I think about it, the more I realize that I impacted every person on Polk Street by making sandwiches at leasttwice a week and helping River do all the stuff he needed to make it easier to reach people on the street. Ottent grumbled inside about having to make sandwiches again or lug food from the Food Bank. But that was part of the journey. The journey was being surrounded by people who give a lot to help others. I have learned that you cannot save everyone and you cannot think that they will be your friends. The reality is that we occupy separate lives, but my compassion for those on the streetshas only increased. Giving someone a meal or clean needle is more important than the gratification I may or may not receive. I think the more time that passes, the more I will realize how this summer has changed my life.

I can now say that I have inlimately seen what people whisper about and judge. I have seen and worked with the homeless and, as a result, I have grown more aware of my place in this life. I live a luxurious life and with these resources I always want to give back to those less fortunate. I routinely give out more change and look homeless people in the eye because I know there is nothing to be afraid of, there is only the guilt one feels. But guilt is not an excuse not to give. I do not feel guilty any more. I feel privileged because I know enough to give. I am proud and happy of the work I've done with Ternenos. Of course, I still feel that I want more personal relationships, but I am leaving and I have to contribute what I can, here, now. The future is a mystery, but I know I will not turn a cold shoulder to the outreach I have done this summer. I am more motivated than ever to volunteer for the homeless in Boston and keep up this drive for social activism.

As I think back over the summer, I remember numerous conversations in which i felt totally rewarded and connected (if only for a moment) to the people we serve on the street. River said at the beginning of the summer that he wanted me in the end to see homeless people as people. That is exactly what happened. I have worked with people this summer and tried not to rank or judge them. My compassion for them is driven by the reality that we are all people. Again the unanswerable questions are raised: Why are some people so much more fortunate than others? How is this fair? It is not, in fact, fair, but we can't go just that far. I think we as a society should take care of all of our people. When I walk by a homeless person, I feel sad that a person just like myself has to suffer and so that is why I give them what aid I can. It seems so simple, but it has taken me a long time to figure out why it is important to at least acknowledge people on the street, even if you don't give them money.

WEEKLY PEACE ACTION

Again we offer four weekly suggestions that you might consider in your own journey for social justice and peace.
Week 1:
Walk in the poorest area of your town reflecting on your struggle with your own poverty, be it physical or spiritual.

Week 2:
Read the Biblical Book of Amos, reflecting on how our society treats the disenfranchised.

Week 3:
Do not eat in a restaurant for a week and give the money you save to Temenos or some other Catholic Worker.

Week 4:
Call someone you're angry with or estranged from and invite them out to coffee.

PUNK CONCERT FUNDRAISER

On November 27th, beginning at 7 p.m., there will be a fundraiser for Temenos hosted by Gilman Center in Berkeley. It will be a Punk Concert with four bands. Call Fr. River for the address or other information.

WE ARE BEGGARS

Ternenos does not take government grants. We depend on God's mercy through others. It is this mercy that has allowed us to serve 1250 meals the past month, provide harm reduction materials to 750 people, 225 one-on-ones, 21 hospital visits, 15 jail visits, socks and other dothing to 110 people, and the sacramental presence of Christ on the street. Thank you. As we enter the fall and colder weather, our needs only increase. Special thanks to: Andrew Liberman, The Rev. David Travins, Warren & Susan Dean, The Rev. Robert Matthews, William & Elizabeth Kruer, Dan & Maria Johnson, Jerry Beach, Anita Roche, Chris Seltzer, David Freedman, AICS of Tulsa, Clean Clothes of Ann Arbor, and an anonymous "friend in high places."

A PRIEST IN RESIDENCE

Fr. Geoff Simpson, an Episcopal priest from Virginia and chaplain for a boys' school there, spent the month of July with us. He has given us the following reflections:

This summer, I spent thirty days with an Anglican priest who works on the streets of San Frandsco. As he and I sat together for our "last supper" - roast chicken and duck on rice at a small restaurant on the edge of Chinatown - he asked me "what have you learned? What will you be taking back with you to the boys at your school in Virginia? What will you say to them when you preach?"

"I don't know. I'm not sure. I can't say," was my response. I learned and experienced so much that month that I did not know where to begin, nor could I be sure how it would all be incorporated into my daily life and ministry at the private boarding school where I serve as chaplain.

I learned about condoms from the sex workers, needles from the intravenous drug users, hormone injections from the transgendered, sandwiches firom the hungry, blankets firom the homeless, addiction from the heroin addicts. I learned about people's humility, frustration and disappointment, sadness, pain and hopelessness, aspirations, hope and transformation. But I didn't know how to answer his questions.

I still did not have an easy time responding to the question he had asked me when I had arrived: "Why did you come out here? Why did you choose to spend a considerable part of you summer vacation working With the people who work and who live on the streets of San Francisco?" Was it to learn? To have a new experience? To become a better person? To bring balance to my work With the advantaged? To force myself to be more altruistic? To make a difference in the world? To see a different part of the country? None of these answers have escaped my consideration. None of them would be enfirely untrue for me.

What do I take with me firom this experience? I take with me a challenge, a challenge to love more fully God's call in the Gospel.

In a television interview once, Mother Teresa was asked, "why do you do what you do?" She responded, "Because I love Jesus." In an effort to bettor comprehend what this statement meant, the interviewer asked: "Oh, I see, because it makes you feel good? Because it meets your needs in some way?" "No," she responded, "I do it because I love Jesus."

Why would anyone live on, or near, these streets? Spend hours, days, weeks or years getting to know the people of the outdoors community?

Why would anyone choose to live in a dormitory at a rural high school with 400 teenage boys and work seven days a week teaching, coaching and otherwise advising students?

After a month in the city, do I feel good, better about myself, somehow satisfied, fulfilled, enriched, holier? Not particularly.

What will I tell my students when I talk about what I have learned? That service (and ministry) is not about "ME," my efforts, my feelings, my contribution, my experience, my wisdom, my gifts, my gain. It is about a calling, a vocation, a way of life. It is about the Gospel - the good news of God's unconditional love for the people whom He created and endowed with value and worth, not based on what they have done or will do, but based on who they are: the people (though their lives at times and in ways do not reflect the glory of their creator) for whom Jesus lived, died, and rose again. To all of us He offers hope and unending kindness.

One day on my last week in San Francisco I passed Christopher on the street. He was reading out loud these words out of a small Bible which someone had given him: "God, who iS rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in trespasses, made us alive together in Christ. (...It is by grace you have been saved)." (Ephesians 2:4-5) I asked him, "What do these words mean to you?" He answered: "They mean that nothing can separate me from the love of God. Nothing!'

It is because of God's grace and because of God's love for us that we may respond by receiving his love and by seeking to live as Jesus lived, by serving Christ in serving others!