Diligence in Dublin

This afternoon I went to the one of the art museums in Dublin hoping to find some inspiration to help process the past two weeks. The painting to the left is called The Diligence in the Snow, by Gustave Courbet. An abbreviated title of this work, on the plaque below it, is The Snow. I think that it captures the Dublin that I saw and experienced quite well. The diligent, those trying to make their way, are surrounded by what seems to be turbulent waves crashing down all around them. And yet they are diligent. What's more is that the diligent make up less than a quarter of the entire frame. In other words, at a look they are pretty small and a busy glance at the beauties of the nature scene could easily miss the diligence of the travelers. A romantic depiction of the many beauties of Ireland's amazing landscapes, cultural treasures, perfections of Stout, traditional prominence in sport, etc. could miss the daily pains and struggles of the many diligent who carry their scars with them as they travel on into another day. The snow boughs are massive in this painting, but we would be at a complete loss if we did not see the diligence of the diligent. The same is true of any city and country. The lives of the poor and the marginalized are essential to the identity of the culture. We do not know Dublin unless we know the poor of Dublin-- their names, their stories, and have shared a laugh with them. We do not know Baltimore unless we know the poor of Baltimore.

I have been here in Dublin, Ireland working with an organization called De Paul International. De Paul is a Catholic organization named after St. Vincent De Paul that seeks to minister to the most marginalized of society. In Dublin there are several homes run by De Paul: one for women who are just finishing jail sentences, one for active drug users, one simply for the homeless, and two for men and women who are addicted to alcohol. For the past two weeks I worked at Sundial House. Sundial is unlike any other service provider that I have seen before. It is a community of men and women who are addicted to alcohol. The mission of Sundial is to provide a house, medical treatment, community, opportunity for recovery, and harm reduction to its residents. And like all of the sites of De Paul, Sundial houses the marginalized-- men and women who are addicted to alcohol, many of whom have been kicked out of hospitals and other service agencies. As I heard many times over the past two weeks from a variety of different people, Sundial takes in the people that everyone else kicks out. Oh, and Sundial is a wet house-- meaning that the residents are not forced to stop drinking. They are given a home and accepted as they are. It is one way of ministry to the addicted.

This ministry is risky and it is raw. The majority of conversations are filled with explatives and yet are sincere and authentic. The residents have the disease alcoholism and the effects of years of abusing alcohol are vividly apparent. In the two weeks I got to know many of them well. As they said yesterday, we had us some good chats and boy did we have some laughs. I'd like to tell you about a couple of them.

John (also known as Ben Ten, Barger, and Santa Clause) is quite a character. He wears a tie just about every day and sports a white beard over his beaming smile. Several months ago John had a stroke and continues to be restricted in his speech and posture as a result. That does not, however, keep John from giving everyone around him a hard time. He is the first to alert the staff or other residents when they are not doing what he thinks they should be doing. But in getting to know John I got to know a man of great integrity and great joy in making others laugh. John shared a few of his stories with me and I got to know what made him tick-- what would get him to laugh almost beyond control. But I never saw John more proud or more excited as when a woman on the street came up to him and asked, "John, how are you today?" He was delighted because this woman knew his name. And he stopped walking to bask in the joy of being recognized. If the moment itself didn't make a big enough impression on me, John reminded me of it more than a couple of times as the day went on.

Phillip (also known as HOOCH) is a delightful character who sees it as his duty to keep everyone at Sundial cool and laughing. You can tell when Phillip is coming around the corner when you hear his walker scraping along the floor and hear him yelling out, "Hooch!" Phillip goes to Mass every week and eagerly shares with everyone that the priest at church lets him light the candles on the altar. In conversation Phillip is the first to share a good joke or ask someone a question that is sure to stir up some excitement and laughs. Phillip has the ability to energize the group and can turn a tense situation into an opportunity to laugh and not take things too seriously.

These are two of the thirty residents at Sundial. There is a similar house around the corner, Orchid House. And as I said before, these ministries are risky and they are raw. The residents are diligent scrappers who are well acquanted with fighting to survive and have surprising resiliency. There is a rare occasion of recovery in which a resident succeeds in giving up alcohol and gets his/her own housing. But the majority of the residents will never see recovery or lasting sobriety. In the house there are harsh words. There are fights. There are falls. There are trips to the hospital. There is also diligence. In Sundial there is the diligence to love. The residents and the staff are diligent and persistent in how they interact with one another. The staff are amazingly diligent in loving these men and women and providing an opportunity for community with them. I have learned a lot from these men and women, both the residents and the staff.


My big picture goal for this summer was to gain some experiences that would add to my formation-- especially experiences that would give me resources to engage the many realities in Baltimore City. Over the four weeks working with soldiers and their families in the US Army I learned a bit about families and the many struggles that military families and really all families encounter. I also learned a bit about violence. I learned about the effects of violence on human beings. And in these two weeks with De Paul in Dublin I learned about a new and daring way to minister to people who have addictions.

Additionally, through daily prayer, Mass and the example of others, I have been able to see the role of the Church in all of this. I have seen the Church as an unwaivering community of believers who hold firm to the Standard of Christ and live their lives giving witness to the faith, hope, and love which they profess. The Church is huge with many many different ways of worship and ways of celebrating and ways of proceeding. We are one Church, one community, professing one faith in one Lord. And we are charged with the call to live our faith-- part of which is to love and to bring the knowledge of the love of God to all people, withholding it from no one. As Christians we cannot afford to not serve the poor and engage the marginalized of society with love.

Baltimore has its fair share of margins and marginalized. Baltimore is seeing its fourth generation of heroin addiction. Boarded homes and prisons are common sights. The city section of the Sun paper is filled with reports of violence, addiction, gang activity, etc. As Christians in Baltimore we cannot afford to do nothing. Get involved. Get to know the poor. Visit Gift of Hope, any of the sites run by Catholic Charities, any of the sites run by the Saint Vincent De Paul Society. Get involved in your parish. Get involved in your community. Pray.

Be diligent in loving others.