Compassion Tourism

I was really struck the other day by a phrase my colleague Mike used in one of our meetings.

Compassion tourism.

It's a lot of things, but it's partly the idea that so many of our "compassion ministries" or "urban ministries" look like day-long field trips to some exotic place. You know, like loading up your SUV with a group of friends and going and seeing the Amish. "Ooh, look how these people live! We should buy stuff from them! And take pictures! They're so not like us! That was fun!" I think it's a natural reaction to want to explore that which is "other" to our experience, and it's normal to be intrigued.

But.

The problem is when our work as the Church stops at compassion tourism; when loading into our cars, driving to the "bad part of town," doing some sort of service, taking some pictures with the cute kids, and then going right back to our regularly-scheduled programming is enough for us to get our fix, check that box, what have you. Don't get me wrong. As someone who works in full-time "urban ministry," these acts of service can very, very much be a blessing to those of us who are laboring day in and day out in these areas. But it sure can also be frustrating as car after car pulls in, pulls out and totally misses the whole point.

The point is that transformation- of communities, of us- doesn't happen at a drive-thru. Relationships aren't built in a quick two hours a year. And as long as you're "just visiting," you'll never fully see what could be. How often do we allow our hands to get dirty in the complications of poverty and injustice? Do we really take the time to start the messy process of relationship building, rather than just stuff giving or policy creating? Do we dedicate time in prayer, every day, for those organizations that do? I am the first to proclaim that not everyone can devote their life to this sort of work...and expectations of anything close to that are highly problematic. I also recognize the incredible importance of having those "in the trenches" help to educate those who aren't. But here's something everyone who professes Christ can and must do: love God and love others. Compassion tourism isn't sacrificial love.

Too often our "loving people" (very much like our "loving God") has to fit within our time frames, our ideas and our social or political convictions. If it can't be accomplished in a day of service or doesn't jive well with what we think about the world, we're probably too busy, too important, too...something to do it. But that's not the life we're called to live. That's not what Jesus taught, and it's certainly not a picture of the thriving church.

Maybe the problem is that we know, deep down inside, that it's not going to be easy or comfortable work. (Should this surprise us? I hope not.) Really, truly loving God and therefore loving our neighbors is dangerous work. It will have implications for every single second of your day. It will mean looking at the world in a different way. It will mean looking at our finances in a different way. It will mean looking at each other in a different way. And yet ultimately, it will make us better worshippers of Him.

I am hopeful for a day when the Church universal will again live out its calling in the world. When we, the Church-especially the Western church which seems to lag behind its counterparts- will no longer be bound by comfort, blinded by fear and drunk on our own selfish and, yes, sometimes petty needs. There are already bright spots: I can tell stories of lives transformed, of devoted prayers, of community restoration. And yet...

The road is long. Just as a living faith is an act-filled process, so loving our neighbors is as well. Let's start by putting away our cameras. Getting out of our cars. Putting down our stopwatches.

Let's go inside and sit for a while.

Did I mention I know* Meryl Streep?

Last year for my birthday, M and I traveled with our good friends Katie and Dave to New York City. (Sidenote: have I told you how much I miss being able to get on a bus and go to NYC? Seriously. If I tried that from here it would 1. cost a bajillion dollars and 2. take a bajillion hours to get there.)

If I could recreate that weekend every time I go to NYC I would. Why? Well I'll tell you why. First off, it was New York fashion week and WE were there. Not guests inside, mind you. But there, all the same. The list of famous people we saw is too long to list, though I will mention Heidi Klum (who is beautiful, but looked a little orange) and Whitney Port and that horrid Olivia girl. I felt like a 13 year old all over again, taking pictures of famous people! Not that I really did that when I was 13, but, whatever.

And then...my uncle also happened to be in the city and told us about this phenomenal jazz venue in Harlem. And by venue, I mean woman's living room. Every Sunday, Ms. Eliot opens her Harlem apartment up to anyone and everyone to come and experience some of the world's best jazz. She serves hot wings and kool-aid, and charges a great "zero" for entrance. If you love jazz, you must go to Ms. Eliot's living room before you die. Nearly all great jazz musicians have played there at one time or another.

And in case those two experiences weren't enough, we had reservations that evening at Babbo down in the West Village.

Sound familiar? It's Mario Batali's restaurant. I love him! Even his orange Crocs, which I normally hate. But seriously, that man can pull them off. (Note, I saw him a few weeks later and, sure enough, he had them on. In early March. In New York.)

When we walked in, I checked in with the hostess for our 9:30 reservations, and then just sort of stared off into space while we waited. You know how it can sometimes appear that you're staring at someone, but you're actually not seeing them? That's how I was...just sort of looking, but not seeing. Until. My eyes started to focus on the object I had been looking at. (Focus. Focus.) Hey...that looks like... (focus)....hey, whoever it is is looking back at me and smiling (focus)...HOLY CRAP THAT'S MERYL STREEP LOOKING AT ME AND SMILING!! Of course, as any woman would do, I immediately whisper as quietly as possible, "KATIE! THAT'S MERYL STREEP." (I'm really classy like that.)

My obvious next thought is, So if Meryl Streep is here, who else is? Why look, there's Maggie Gyllenhaal with a big group of friends. And Rachel Zoe, back in the corner with her husband. And, what's that Dave and M? Meryl Streep is with JIM FROM THE OFFICE? Holy crap. We're like in the pantheon of actors and actresses I like. (And stylists.)

So that's how I know Meryl Streep. *Granted, she doesn't know my name, but we made a connection, you know? I could just feel it.

Oh, and the food was the most amazing food I have ever eaten and it was one of my best birthdays ever.

In fact, it was all so great that I returned to NYC a few weeks later and went to Babbo again with my friends New York Meg and New York Nancy (and DC Mandy), for Meg's birthday.

And ran into Luke Wilson.

But that's another story.

Comcast Math

So I've written before about my pure, unadulterated hatred of Comcast. (See below. I don't know how to link to it). I know, I know, we could choose to not have cable and get internet from someone else. But it's just so much work, you know? And I would rather just whine.

M and I decided that, because our "six month promotional rate" was about to double to a three-digit bill, we would contact Comcast and cancel our cable. Besides, I watch WAY too much HGTV and, according to M, "trash" on Bravo. I'm sorry, I find Millionaire Matchmaker an amazing anthropologic study of our society and relationships.

Since they make it impossible to cancel online, that meant the ever-dreaded phone call. I dialed the number and, after choosing the "If you are thinking about dropping your service button" (I'm not THINKING people, I'm DOING), a very sweet older lady came on the phone.

Me: "Hi, we currently have cable and internet and would like to cancel our cable."

Her: "Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that (and she actually sounded like she was. Where do they get these people??) Is there any specific reason?"

Me: "Well, I think it's robbery that we pay so much for a service when we have no other choices in cable and only one or two in internet providers. It's a monopoly, ma'am. Or at least an oligopoly." (Or something along those lines)

Her: "I understand. Well let me take a look at your account and see what I can do."

Me: "Uh, well, we really just want to cancel it."

Her: "Ok, hold please."

Intermission of, not kidding, at least seven minutes. I think they do that in the hopes that you'll get fed up and just hang up.

Her: "Hello, ma'am. I'm back! Would you like to add phone service?"

Me: "What? No! I want to cancel my damn cable!!!"

Her: "Ok, well, if you were to cancel your cable, your bill just for the internet would be $70. If you decide, instead, to take up another six months of our promotional offer, we could make your bill for cable and internet $77, inclusive."

Me: "Cable internet costs $70?"

Her: "Plus tax."

Me: "So we can KEEP our cable and our internet, and pay approximately the same price as we would for just internet."

Her: "Well. Yes."

Me: "Since I don't even want to get into a discussion about your apparently very large profit margin on each and every service that you supply, we'll just keep the cable. And in the meantime, look for internet that is much, much cheaper. Somewhere. Hopefully."

Her: "Great! And thanks for choosing Comcast!"

Me: "But I DIDN'T choose Comcast! You guys-"

Her: "Click."

I'm still trying to figure out who won here: me or Comcast?

I'm betting on Comcast.

Move Over Bobby Flay

Actually, I'm not really a big fan of Bobby Flay. Not sure why...maybe it's that he's so...everywhere. He's the poster child of the Food Network. Throw Down with Bobby Flay. The Life and Times of Bobby Flay. Iron Chef Bobby Flay. Like Rachel Ray. But anyway.

With the long weekend, I was able to spend a significant portion of my time cooking. And in case you don't know me by now, I love cooking. Love it. I love making things up as I go, like my new wholewheat carrot muffins. Or my pork tenderloin recipe. And so, I give you my...

stuffed poblano pepper with homemade tortilla chips and a fresh tomatillo sauce (salsa verde)

It looks delicious, doesn't it? And it was, my friends, it was. And here's the great thing: it's healthy (or, I should say, not as unhealthy as a lot of Mexican food)! Those chips you see? They're baked. Yep. Small corn tortillas, cut into slices, with just a tiny bit of olive oil and kosher salt. The poblano pepper? I "roasted" it over our stovetop (ie held it over the open flame and rotated it) and then stuffed it with a very spicy, very lean ground beef, green chiles and my version of a Spanish rice- no cheese necessary. And of course the piece de resistance, the tomatillo sauce. Hyde Park produce had beautiful tomatillos (which are technically out of season, but...) that I just had to grab them up. Man, it was good.

I've yet to find a healthy, authentic Mexican restaurant in Chicago (minus Rick Bayless, who we simply can't get reservations for and usually can't afford, though he's amazing), so it's nice to know that I can cook up my own, healthy version of some of my Mexican food favorites. Now it's on to the margaritas...

You'll Thank Me Later

I used to think that this was one of the most irritating statements you could hear. Really? You know OH SO MUCH BETTER than me? And you think I'll actually THANK you for this pain/frustration/what-have-you that I feel is being inflicted on me right now? Puh-leeze.

And yet...I think this is exactly the sentiment that the Lord is saying to M and I right now.

As most of you know, the transition from DC to Chicago wasn't without shed tears, missed friends and lots and lots of frustration. At times, it seemed like this was exactly what we WEREN'T supposed to be doing. Who picks up and moves to a city they've never lived in with no job, no friends and a butt-kicking hard education in front of them? Apparently the Hyde Park Heroes.

And yet...

We've learned so many things here, things that- while we very well could have learned them back in DC- wouldn't have been learned so quickly or so deeply in our "previous life". We've learned the importance of community in a person's life, in raising a family and in pursuing the higher truths. We've learned how to love one another deeply and how to trust one another with every aspect of our lives. I've learned that there is a vocational calling on my life to help people "love their neighbor," especially in urban areas of high dis-investment, segregation and distrust. M has learned that he loves studying public policy and that he's quite gifted at these things. We've learned how to really study God's Word, not just because we should but because we love it and know that there are great, deep truths to be pondered and discussed; truths that make an eternal difference. We've learned how to live wisely on the (few) dollars that we bring in, not because we're cheap but because we believe that what we spend our money on is a reflection of what we value. We've learned that true friendships are worth their weight in gold and that they don't blossom overnight, making us even more thankful for those friends who continue to love us, seek us out and respond to our emails.

Gosh, and that's only after 5 months.

No matter where we are next (and we are definitely hopeful it will be a return to the city and community that we love) it is good to know that God not only met us here in Hyde Park but led us here, too. That even in times of supreme frustration and confusion, there can still be a plan and a purpose and maybe, just maybe, wonderful things to be learned and experienced.

And for that we are thankful.

The Snowy Day(s)

For all my hemming and hawing, it really is beautiful.

Date Night

For a while now (it all blurs together these days, but it started back when we were dating) M and I have set aside Friday night as date night. Sometimes it's with friends, sometimes it's low key and sometimes it's a quick jaunt to Europe. I'm kidding.

Since this Friday night's "date" was watching the Gators slaughter Cincinnati, we went out on Wednesday instead. And THIS was our date.

Yeah, it is what you think it is. But before you call PETA or stop reading or throw up or do whatever it is you do when you see a dead duck, give me a second.

Calm now? Great.

We ventured up to the Northside of the city to try out a place called Sun Wah barbeque that we had read about. It's a traditional Chinese-style place, well known for its meats and cheap prices. And let me just say... while I do NOT especially like duck, this place was AMAZING. AMAZING. The meat is incredible and you don't feel like you're filling yourself with white rice all night (since I'm no longer eating white rice, I'm happy for that fact.) They serve you tea when you sit down (don't you wish every restaurant was so nice?) and the prices? Well let's just say that we ate like four different animals and didn't even pay $30. Sun Wah is a bright spot (ha ha, sun...get it?!) on a strip of less-impressive Thai and Chinese restaurants. Go.

But since we didn't BYOB to Sun Wah, we wanted to end the night with a nightcap. After the first place we tried turned out to be pretentious and crowded, we finally made it down to our local watering hole, Woodlawn Tap.

It's not very impressive from the outside (especially since you can't even really tell it's there...Starbucks is a little overwhelming) but man, it is everything GOOD that a bar can be. Originally opened in 1948, the bar claims that it serves people from Nobel Laureates to the local pipe layer. In fact, when we walked in, we were impressed by the fact that, while practically on the campus of the University of Chicago, the mix of people there was amazing: white and black, blue collar, white collar, old, young. It just feels like a good bar should feel. (Not to knock you DC- or downtown Chicago- but bars full of Hill staffers and lobbying assistants can't hold a candle to Woodlawn Tap). They still take cash only, they use the original cash register (you can kind of see one on the left side of the picture) and they serve hamburgers, fries and hot dogs for practically quarters. We didn't try them, but they looked good.

And the best part?

They can mix girly drinks, too! I know it's a bit sacrilegious (yes, that's spelled right, because I checked) to go to a place like this and order a Cosmo, but I just can't bring myself to drink beer. It tastes like pee. And I like to enjoy my drink, thank you.

Bottoms up, boys!! and...uh....Nobel Peace prize winners....