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hot house yoga richmond va
- as pastor of dolores missionchurch, which at the time was the poorest parish in the los angeles catholic archdiocese, fatherboyle and members of the parish began working to help at risk youth, starting an alternativeschool and daycare program,
hot house yoga richmond va, and finding jobs for former gang members. a few years later, theyopened homeboy bakery as a training groundfor former gang members to achieve gainful employment.
today, homeboy industries operates a number of social enterprise businesses. i was saying to greg that iwas in los angeles airport a few weeks ago, and bingo, i looked up and there was homeboyindustries in the airport. and they help about 10,000former gang members a year, providing job training and placement along with education,therapy, tattoo removal, substance abuse treatment,and legal assistance.
father boyle has authoredthe celebrated memoir, tattoos on the heart, thepower of boundless compassion, published in 2010. he's received the civic medal of honor, the california peace prize,and in 2011 was inducted into the california hall of fame. he also received anhonorary degree from our own college of the holy cross backin homeboy's infancy in 1998. father boyle is here with twotrainees from the program,
ruben ruiz and davidvasquez, who also will share a bit about their experiences. so i'm really grateful thatthey've joined us tonight and are eager to hear whatall three of our speakers have learned from each other. father g, as he's known,is a fantastic storyteller and can do much better than i can, so i am going to leave it tohim and to david and ruben. so thank you for coming.
(audience applauds) - my name is david. i'm 20 years old. i'm from los angeles, and i'mgoing to tell you a little bit about myself and why i'm hereand how i got here today. it all started off at, the age of 12 and a little bit before that. my mom was in and out of prison, so she kind of left me at whatwas known as a dope house.
my grandmother lived there. she was addicted to heroine so she really didn'tpay attention too much. i always was with mycousins, the homies and stuff and kind of got used toseeing homies getting jumped into the hood, in the backyard everyday, houses getting raided all the time. it became the cool thing to see. when i started becoming part of all that,
i wanted to be all that as time grew. so at the age of 13, i found myself in juvenile hall for the first time and actually representingthe neighborhood. so as i got out, i got jumpedinto the hood right away. and from there on, that'sleading to years and years of in and out of juvenilehall camps, placements. it got to a point wherei had nowhere to go. i was underage, nowhere to go.
the house, i don't know the state or whatever, they end up closing the housedown so everybody just left. so i was out on thestreets and nowhere to go. my mom was in and out of prison. no one wanted me around because i was already doingdrugs at the age of 15. so my aunt told me one day, "oh, you can come live with me "just if you agree to remove your tattoos
"at this place called homeboys." so i agreed to it. yeah, i need a place to live. so i would go and i would really develop a routine where i wasin the hood everyday. i'll take a train, whatever igot to do to go to the hood. so every month, she'd tell me, "hey, it's time to go getyour tattoos removed." then i'd be like, "oh,let me go get my sweater,"
and i'll be hopping aback wall and i'm gone. so after that, i wentback to juvenile hall, and i did that for more years. i lost a lot of time. i dropped out of school at fifth grade, so i never had an education really. and then i finally hit 18, and that's when things got really real because here i am, i'mnot that big of a person.
so i go into the county for the first time for little violation and i see all these grown men. things got real because that violation turned into armed robbery and hit and run, and it went from a month to30 years that i was facing. so i stood there for a wholeyear and i waited and waited until i finally beat thecase by the grace of god. i got out and learned my lesson. i got my girlfriend pregnant,so i was still out there
doing drugs, gangbanging,wouldn't listen to nobody. it got to the point wherei was in jail again. so when i finally got out, my baby was born and i think that's really what changed me because when i looked into my baby's eyes, everything just unraveled in me. and suddenly, i can feelall the pain and hurt to all the people that i'vehurt, and all the things
that i've done out there, andall the wasted time i did with my life because suddenlynow, i'm looking into this baby's eyes and i'mlooking at all the things and stuff that are happeningout on the streets. i didn't want my daughterto go through that, so i was faced with a decision to make, either hit the streets again or change my life and bein my daughter's life. so i told my family i knowa place that can help me.
it was homeboy industries. i wasn't really all there. i was still cool and hot. so i went into homeboys, i really didn't know what to expect. and i went in there,father g opened his arms and welcomed me with open arms. and ever since then, i've beendoing tattoo removal classes. i've seen things that inever thought i would see.
i don't miss the lifestyle. i don't miss drugs. i don't miss having nowhereto go all day and night. i don't miss hurting people. i don't miss going in and out of jail. i'm happy where i'm at right now. and plus, i'm here with you guys now in your beautiful city and state, and i thought i would never be here. so yeah, life's good now.
- hello, everyone. my name is ruben ruiz. i'm 23 years old. i grew up in los angeles, california. i grew up with parents that were very, very active, gang active. my mom was a drug userherself, a real meth addict. i'm talking about sniffing lines and following with aneedle, stuff like that.
i've pretty much seen it as akid, not elmo or sesame street or playing with toysand my mom telling me, showing me my colors. i wasn't taught that. i was taught to thatrough love, what they call gangster love, that you'regoing to be tough on the street. you're not going to letnobody put you down. that was the cycle that they brought me into
that i saw, and i chose that lifestyle. my dad, another drug addict as well, he was a real coke addict at the time. now he's just doing very bad. he's facing 10 years in prison right now. i haven't spoke to my mom since i joined homeboysindustry for so many reasons. i'll get into details with that later on. i was 13 years old when ifirst joined the neighborhood.
first, i wanted to be for my mom for some reason. i don't know why. i was close to my mom, i guess. she told me, "no, you'refucking crazy, get out of here." i said, "all right." so i told my dad the nextday, the very next day, i didn't even wait 24 hours,i'm ready to get in the hood. he's like, "for what?" and bullshit you not,once he said those words,
there's a car passing by shooting at us, at 13 years old, getting shot at. i just remembered my dadpushing me to the ground, not even carrying me orcovering me for these bullets coming after me, just pushingme and him diving another way. and good thing theydidn't get off or nothing, but that day i chose to gangbang. that day. that was my reason. i told my dad, theydon't care about my life,
then why should i careabout other people's lives. a couple of minutes later, i'm over there in the backgetting jumped by three guys. that's what we do as gangbangers,we go for revenge so there goes me as a knucklehead already mad back to the streets. it's something i regret. then a couple of yearspassed, got really active, started getting weapons onme, picked up a gun case. that gun case, i didsix months, five months,
didn't do that much time in county jail. i never had camp, only county jail. then got out, became a real big addicted to drugs, got intometh, what they call glass. started doing glass,got to that cycle again. i've seen my mom or seenmy dad getting high. so to me it wasn't like iwas doing something wrong. it was just i was born to it. i was immune to it,
that negativity. so to me it was like whatever,everybody's doing it. everybody's getting high on the street, up to no good, running amok. so to me is wasn't nothing bad, but i was just gettingtired of that cycle. and then i don't know, for some reason, i was really high oneday, and there he goes packing another gun and icome out with the gun case.
and this one, i don't know, i just had a bad experiencein jail in this one. i just constantly getting down in jail, back to back to back with enemies. i don't know, for somereason, i guess my enemies were getting busted at thesame time i was busted. so i was just running amok in there. and then i hit supermax county jail by six flags magic mountain in california.
we're all in there, high levelinmates, and i'm over here shaking my enemy's hand,and it hit me right there. in jail, there's rulesthat you can't fight enemy because we're all one race. the mexicans stay with the mexicans, the whites with the whites,the black with the blacks. i'm shaking my enemy's hand and it hit me, we're shooting at each otherin the street but in here, we're shaking hands andwe're coming united as one.
why is that? i ask myself why. right there, i was just like, this is it. this is where they call me toro. this is bull. this is where i end. i'm going to drop the ball here. i'm going to hang my gloves, as they say. there i go getting outa couple of months later
with probation andtwo-year joint suspension. so i'm on probation now witha two-year joint suspension hanging over my head. so if i get busted again, i'mdoing two years off the bat. so i go look for help, and my aunt told meabout homeboys industry. once i walked through that door, i already knew i wanted tochange just by being in jail. so once i walked through thosedoors, meeting father greg,
i've seen all these gangsters. everyone still is active here. but now, i started seeingother gang members, my enemies introducingthemselves like, "oh, what's up," with their real name, not their hood name, not their nickname, with theirreal name like humans do. i'm already seeing his hood and his face and i'm shaking his hand,and he didn't bother where i was from, what theycall you, nothing like that.
it was, "hey, what's up, my name is." "all right, what are you here from?" "i'm here to see father greg." i was waiting in line to see g, and i guess that was i think the best thingever, speaking to father g, like an angel sent from above. it was a blessing speaking to this man.
he didn't hesitate once wheni asked him i need a job, open arms, hugged me, gaveme money right off the back, put food on my table right that same day. it was crazy. i'm just realizing now,and it's a blessing. now i got a job becauseof homeboys industry. i've been sober for the past four months. it doesn't seem a lot butfor me to be running amok out there and being dirty forthree, four years straight,
it's a blessing. i just learned a lotfrom homeboys industry, how to love myself, how tolove another gang member, be friends with others, respect, getting over fears that i had. what else? getting my tattoos removed of my choice, not because they expect it.
it's because i want to. i got my neck almost done. now i'm a student atelac, east la college. i never thought i wouldbe a college student, trying to major in business,join the football team. it's just crazy how these blessings come so quick and howgod puts things in line. and i just want to say thankyou, father, for everything. and that's it.
- well, thank you very much. i don't know if this works, yeah. get my madonna microphone on here. i'm probably dating myself. ah, i don't know. got it. thank you, you two. it's a privilege to be with all of you. i'm honored to be travelinghere with these two gentlemen.
the day won't ever comewhen i have more courage or i am more noble or am closer to god than david and ruben. we've had a good time. this was david's first airplane flight, and ruben, only your second one, right? yeah. so it's a great thing. so i'm happy to be here.
i guess it's my alma mater because i got an honorarydegree here many years ago. i just know it's myalma mater because i get the development lettersasking me for money and stuff. (audience laughs) so i know i've arrived at some level. it's a privilege of my life for 30 years to have worked and knowthousands and thousands of gang members, men and women
who have changed my lifeand altered my heart. and there's a homie named joey ray who worked at our place some time ago. part of what he did washe would go on the road and he would give talks,and he was a good speaker. and we went up to dinner, he was giving me tips onhow to speak publicly. and he said, "you know, youhave to prep for your talk "with self-defecating humor."
and i said, "yeah, no shit." that's some good advice there. we're always celebrating ourcommon invitation and call to go to the margins, becausethat's where the joy is. so it's a kind of a selfish venture. but if you go to the marginsand if you stand there long enough, you look underyour feet and the margins are getting erased becauseyou chose to go there. and this is certainlysomething that pope francis
is always inviting us to, toimagine a circle of compassion and then imagine nobodystanding outside that circle. so we're all called in our way to dismantle the barriers that exclude, to stand and inch ourway closer to the poor and the powerless and the voiceless, with those whose dignity has been denied and those whose burdens aremore than they can bear. and all of us feel thisparticular privilege
of being able to stand occasionallywith the easily despised and the readily left out, with the demonized so thatthe demonizing will stop, and with the disposableso that the day will come when we stop throwing people away. and to that end, we're allcalled to create a community of kinship such that god,in fact, might recognize it. and the only reason we want todo that is because we discover, in the same way that jesus,in his own mysticism,
knows the kind of god he has and knows that god's dream cometrue is that we be one. so it's important tokind of, as st. ignatius talks of the god who's alwaysgreater, to know this god who loves us withoutmeasure and without regret, the god who's too busy loving us to have any time left tobe disappointed in us. now i had a spiritual director for a time who used to always saywe need a better god
than the one we have, which ithink is actually quite true. otherwise, arrested developmentcould probably describe where we are with god most of the time. we fall into these patterns and fifth grade senses of how god sees us, how god is eternally disappointed in us, and how somehow we don't measure up. and so how do we move beyond that place? and the homies are alwaysteaching me how to kind of
find this spacious and expansive sense of god, the god that jesus knew. i always talk about how thehomies have kind of out-yogi yogi berra, so they'realways kind of mangling the english language ina way that i find always very illuminating, not justcharming and affectionate, and much the same way youwould tell stories about your kids, how they sort ofcharm you and make you laugh. but they're always manglingsort of the english language.
i had a homegirl named lisacome into my office and she wanted to introduce her man to me. and so she was standingwith him in front of my desk and she said, "this ismy sufficient other." and i said, "no doubt." we had dinner with somestudents here, and we're talking about kind of who's goingto take over homeboy. and so it's nice that the homieshave sort of taken it over, but i also have a ceo namedtom vozzo who runs the place.
and it's nice. i don't have to worryabout, in the same way, about cash flow and budgets and stuff, so it's nice to have him in charge. and i had a homie comeinto my office and he said, "damn, g, my lady, sheis in a bad mood today." and i said, "why?" "well, she's beginning her "administration period."
and i said, "well, i just ended mine, "so i kind of know whatshe's going through." but my favorite one happenedwhen i was at san fernando juvenile hall and i wassaying mass in this huge gym, and there were probably 300 kids there, mainly male and almost all gang members. and as a presider, i was wearing my stole, and they have these little sheets that have the readingsin english and spanish.
i thought i was going toclose my eyes and listen to the reading, so i putthis little sheet on my lap. and this homie gets up. it's the psalm and he sayswith kind of an overabundance of confidence i think, hesays, "the lord is exhausted." and i go, "what the hell." and i look at the sheet and itsaid, "the lord is exalted." and i remember thinking at the time, "wow, that's way better."
yeah, no, i really doprefer the exhausted god over the exalted one becauseeven if you kind of think about the words themselves, exalted is high, distant, glorified butreally far out of our reach. and then there's exhausted which is about kind of self emptying, about sort of everything for you. i like that way betterbecause if we're endlessly creating god in our ownimage, and that's exactly
the problem, it's where we getarrested in our development. anne lamott says that youknow you've created god in your own image when god hatesall the same people you do. and i think that's quite right. we're human beings. we can't help ourselves,but we can catch ourselves, and that's what we want to do. otherwise, it doesn't make any sense to stand at the margins.
so we have this originalcovenantal relationship where god says, "as i have loved you," and the god we've created in our own image expects god to say, "love me back." but the god we have is the one that says, "as i have loved you, have a special love, "special care for the widow,orphan, and the stranger." and the reason god says this is because god thinks that these are folks
who know what it's liketo have been cut off. and because they havesuffered this particular pain, god thinks they're trustworthy to lead the rest of usto the kinship of god. that's a whole new thing. we don't go to the widow, orphan,and stranger to save them, rescue them, but quite theopposite, to somehow find our own salvation, or as jonsobrino, a jesuit liberation theologian wroteprovocatively a book entitled
no salvation outside the poor. i know exactly what he means. these are our guides, "and theyare trustworthy," god says. it's not a romanticizing of the poor. it's about knowing how people will lead us to the truth of who we are. so service is good, and i know holy crossengages quite a bit in this. and yet, we want to be able
to somehow bridge the distancethat exists between us. how do we move from separate and superior to connected and compassionate? how do we move from serviceprovider and service recipient? this distance, how do we bridge that? at homeboy industries,i'm not the great healer and these guys over here are in need of my exquisite healing. the truth be told, we'reall in need of healing.
we're all a cry for help. it's what joins ustogether as human beings, as members of this human family. one of the great privileges of my life was knowing cesar chavez as a friend. and he's the best listeneri ever knew in my life. he never took his focus off you. he was never lookingover your shoulder to see if there was someone moreimportant on the approach.
but once famously a reporterhad commented to him and said, "wow, these farmworkers, they sure love you." and cesar just shruggedand smiled and said, "the feeling's mutual," whichof course is where we want to be in this exquisite mutualitywhere there is no distance. service is the hallway thatgets you to the ballroom, and the ballroom is god's dream come true, which is kinship, connection. mother teresa diagnosedthe world's ills correctly
when she suggested that theproblem in the world is that we've just forgotten thatwe belong to each other. so how do we stand against forgetting that so we arrive at some place of kinship? and no homie ever foundmore job opportunities at homeboy industriesthan a guy named dreamer. and i knew him from thehousing projects, pico gardens, a little mocosito, 13years old, like these guys, got into a gang around that time.
older brother is from thatsame gang, and super smart kid, very intelligent, with themost dangerous sense of humor of anybody i've ever known though i don't think he ever went to school much. but he's about in his 40snow, but in his early 20s, he was kind of a yo-yo, inand out of being locked up. i'd find him a job inthe private sector or in one of our businesses,and before too long, he'd sort of unravel.
he'd gravitate toward vaguecriminality, usually something involving drugs, thesale of or the use of. and then he'd wander back to me, and it was a pattern thatkept repeating itself. so this one time, he finisheda four-month probation violation, county jail,and there he is sitting in front of my desk, and hesays what homies often say, "this time, it'll be different." i go, "hmm, all right."
so with him sitting there, icall a friend of mine who runs a vending machine company,and this guy had hired homies in the past so i'm thinkingmaybe he'll do it again. and sure enough, he says, "hey, you tell him hecan show up tomorrow. "he can start tomorrow." that's a holy man right there. so dreamer began work the next day at the vending machine company.
well, two weeks later, therehe is in front of my desk. i couldn't believe it. i said, "(speaks in foreign language) "here we go all over again." but this time, he pulls out of his pocket his very first paycheckand he waves it proudly. and he says, "damn, g, thispaycheck makes me feel proper. "i mean my mom, she's proud of me. "and my kids, they're not ashamed of me.
"and you know who i haveto thank for this job." and i said, "well, gus, who?" and he looked at me strangely and he said, "well, god, of course." and i said, "oh, no,sure, no, that's right. "that would be god, yeah." he said, "you thought iwas going to say you." i said, "no, gosh, god's number one." he said, "you are solucky you're not living
"in them genesis days." "i'm sorry, them genesis days?" and he goes, "yeah, becausegod would have had struck down "your ass already by now," he said. i guess he told me, but wejust fell out of our chairs. we died laughing. and i defy you to identify exactly who's the service provider,who's the service recipient. it's mutual.
so we're called to create thisthing that is the only praise that god has any interestin, which is somehow creating this bond witheach other, this connection, and the homies have taught me everything of value in terms of it. in the last few years,they've taught me how to text, and so i'm so grateful to thembecause i find it sure beats the heck out of actuallytalking to people. and i'm pretty good atit, lol and omg and btw.
and the homies havetaught me a new one, ohn, which apparently stands for oh, hell no, which i've been using quite a bit lately. i'm sure i'm not theonly one in this audience who's vexed by thestupid autocorrect thing. i had a homie just write me the other day. i didn't know him and hegot my number from somebody, and he was texting, very formaland asking for some help. he had just gotten out of prison.
and he began his little message to me, he wanted to write father greg. and then i guess autocorrect helped him and it said instead fat boy greg. at least i think he wastrying to say father greg, but i'll give him thebenefit of the doubt there. once i had a homegirl named bertha and she was on a sunday, andshe said, "where are you at?" i text her back,
"well, i'm about to speakto a room full of monjas." and monjas is spanish for nuns, sisters. "about to speak to a room fullof monjas," so i pushed send and autocorrect told her that i was about to speak to a room full of ninjas which she thought was pretty interesting. but more often than not,homies, their hair is on fire, and they're always asking for money, and they're going to cut offmy lights, and i just need
this much more for myrent, and that's endless. and so a homie wrote andneeded help with his rent. i didn't have any money atall, so i just wrote him, "things are tight," and i pushed send. autocorrect told him, "thongs are tight." and he wrote back, "sorry to hear that. "what about my rent?" so i'm in a car with twoolder vatos, homies who work
at the office, manuel and poncho, and they're going to help megive a talk at a high school. manuel's in the front seat. we're driving 15 minutes onthe road when manuel gets an incoming, and he reads itto himself and he chuckles. and i said, "what is it?" he goes, "oh, it's dumb. "it's from snoopy back at the office." well, i had just seen snoopy.
he greeted me as the day began. and snoopy and manuel worktogether in the clock-in room where they clock in hundredsand hundreds of our workers. it's a job i wouldn't want because, this may come as a surprise, but gang members can beattitudinal occasionally. so they're braver men than i am. and i said, "well, what did he say?" "well, it's dumb, hang on.
"here it is." "hey, dog, it's me snoops. "yeah, they got my asslocked up at county jail. "they're charging me with beingthe ugliest vato in america. "you have to come down right now, "show 'em they got the wrong guy." well, we died laughing. i almost drove into oncoming traffic. and then i realized thatmanuel and snoopy are enemies.
they're from rival gangs. they used to shoot bullets at each other. now they shoot text messages. and there's a word for that,and the word is kinship. how do we obliterate onceand for all the illusion that we are separate, thatthere is an us and a them? homeboy industries was startedin 1988 when i was pastor of the poorest parish in thecity, nestled in the middle of two public housingprojects, pico gardens
and aliso village, the largestgrouping of public housing west of the mississippi. we had eight gangs at war with each other, making it the place withthe highest concentration of gang activity anywherein the world was my parish. i buried my first young person in 1988, and i buried my 217th three weeks ago. not all from that community but i know a lot of gang members, soi get asked to do this.
first thing we did was we started a school because there were so many middle school, junior high age gang members who had been given the bootfrom their home school. so they were violent and wreakinghavoc during school hours, and writing on thewalls, and selling drugs. so i walked out to them and i said, "hey," then i'd isolate them,"if i found a school "that would take you, would you go?"
and to my surprise, they all said yes. and then i couldn't find aschool that would take them, so that sort of forced my hand. so right across the street from the church is our parochial school,grades k to eight. first two floors was the parochial school and the entire third floor was the convent where the ninjas lived. so i gathered all thenuns in the living room,
and i sat 'em down and said, "hey, would you guys mind moving out, "and we could turn the convent "into a school for gang members." and they said, "sure," andso we were off and running. so that brought gang members to the church which created thisdisconnect in the parish, initially anyway. people started to say, "aren'tchurches supposed to be
"hermetically sealed, goodpeople in and bad people out," and that was a goodchallenge, a gospel challenge. and then they said, "if onlywe had jobs," and so myself and the women, we marchedaround the housing projects, the factories thatsurrounded the projects, trying to find felony friendly employers. and that wasn't so forthcoming,so we just invented things, a crew to build a childcarecenter made up of enemies, rivals, a graffiti removal crew,
maintenance crew, landscaping crew. we had 60 all working. then the unrest happenedin 1992 in los angeles. the whole city exploded but not this little pocketof the poor in los angeles. so the l.a. times asked me,"why do you think that was?" and i said, "i think it's'cause we had 60 strategically "hired gang members, enemies,rivals working together, "had a reason to get up in the morning
"and a reason not toignite the place at night." so a movie producer with $500million read this article, i'm giving you the cliff notes here. and so he said, "whatshould i do with my money?" and i said, "well, buythis abandoned bakery "across the street from the church. "it has ovens. "we'll put hairnets on gang members. "they'll bake break and we'llcall it homeboy bakery."
and that was the extentof my business plan. and he said, "sure," sowe were off and running. a month later, westarted homeboy tortillas in the grand central market. once we had plural, we changed our name from jobs for a futureto homeboy industries, as if there was any industryinvolved in this venture. not everything worked. homeboy plumbing reallywas not hugely successful.
who knew people didn't wantgang members in their homes. i did not see that coming. nobody ever intends todo something like this, but you back your way, youevolve your way into becoming, and we're now the largestgang intervention rehab, reentry program on the planet. we didn't intend to do thatbut it sort of happened. there are 120,000 gangmembers in la county. 15,000 folks a yearwalk through our doors,
trying to imagine theirlife in a different way. most of the homies want to be part of this 18-month training program because it's a paid gig. and then they get inand we always tell folks we don't want folks whoare here for the check, only for those who are herefor the change, so therapy, case management, tattooremoval, as these gentlemen mentioned, curricular things,anger management and such.
but now it's more aboutit's a community of healing. and if love is the answer,community is the context, but tenderness is the methodology. tenderness is the thing that's foreign. tenderness, as jean vanier says from the l'arche communities, it's the highest formof spiritual maturity. if there are two kinds of spiritualities that undergird the homeboyindustries, one is ignatian
and the other one isthe l'arche communities. so the principal of course is that we're all called to beenlightened witnesses, people who through your kindnessand tenderness and focus, attempt of love, returnpeople to themselves. we're allergic at homeboyindustries to holding the bar up and asking folks to measureup only because that's not the kind of god we have, sowhy would we choose to do it. we're not about measuring.
we're about holding themirror up and returning people to themselves, telling themthe truth, that they are exactly what god had inmind when god made them. and once you're out at themargins and you're telling this to each other with the use of mirrors, there's a nobility that gets born. suddenly, you become that truth. you inhabit that truth, andno bullet can pierce it. no four prison walls can keep it out,
and death can't touchit because it's huge. what every one of us at homeboys is always reaching in and dismantling the messages of shame and disgrace that get in the way, that keep people from seeing their truth, and that's the principal suffering of the poor throughouthistory, is shame and disgrace. we want to be people who liveas in the acts of the apostles when they have thisvery strange line in it
that says simply, "andawe came upon everyone," suggesting that the measure of our health as a christian community may well reside in our ability to stand inawe at what the poor have to carry rather than stand injudgment at how they carry it. so some years ago, i was invited to speak to 600 social workersin richmond, virginia, and i said yes. and i knew it was a (mumbles)service from nine to five.
i figured i maybe open it, or speak at lunch, or close the thing. so getting closer to theday, i pull out the letter and i read the not so fineprint, and it is a nine to five (mumbles) service but iam to be the only speaker for the entire daywhich i hadn't realized. so i quickly invite twotrainees in, andre and jose. and i sit them down and i said, "look, you're flying withme to richmond, virginia.
"i'd like you to get upand tell your stories. "take your time "because we've got along ass day to fill." well, i never heard their stories. so jose gets up, he's about25 years old at the time and 18-month program likethese two, but at the end of his time, he kind ofbecame a very valued member of the substance abuse team, a man solid in his own recovery,
and now he was helping younger folks with their addiction issues. gang member, felon, parolee,been to prison, tattooed, but he also had a long stretchof time as a homeless man and an even longer stretchas a heroine addict. so he gets us and he says,"i guess you could say my mom "and me, we didn't get along so good. "i think i was six when shelooked at me and she said, "'why don't you just kill yourself?
"'you're such a burden to me.'" well, 600 social workersaudibly gasped, and he says, "it sounds way worser inspanish," he said to them. we got whiplash going from gasp to laugh. he said, "i think i was ninewhen my mom drove me down "to the deepest part of baja california, "and she walks me up to an orphanage. "she knocks on the door and she says, "'i found this kid,'
"and she left me there for 90 days "until my grandmothercould get out to where "she had dumped me and mygrandmother rescued me. "my mom beat me every single day "of my elementary school years with things "you could imagine and alot of things you couldn't. "everyday, my back wasbloodied and scarred. "in fact, i had to wear threet-shirts to school everyday. "first t-shirt because theblood would seep through.
"second t-shirt, you could still see it. "finally, the third t-shirt,you couldn't see any blood. "kids at school, they make fun of me. "'hey, fool, it's a hundred degrees. "'why are you wearing three t-shirts?'" then he stopped speaking,so overwhelmed with emotion, and he seemed to be staringat a piece of his story that only he could see. and when he could regain his speech,
he said through his tears, "i wore three t-shirts "well into my adult years "because i was ashamed of my wounds. "i didn't want anybody to see 'em. "but now i welcome my wounds. "i run my fingers over my scars. "my wounds are my friends. "after all, how can ihelp heal the wounded
"if i don't welcome my own wounds." and awe came upon everyone. the measure of our compassionlies not in our service of those on the marginsbut only in our willingness to see ourselves in kinship with them. and so we go to the margins not because we are superior or because we're called to rescue anybody. you go to the margins not to rescue.
but once you find yourself out there, go figure, everybody gets rescued. everybody is mutually noble. everybody has inhabitedthe truth of who they are. and you brace yourselveswhen you go out there because the world will accuseyou of wasting your time. but the prophet jeremiah writes, "in this place of whichyou say it is a waste, "there will be heardagain the voice of mirth
"and the voice of gladness,the voices of those who sing." and you just go to the margins so that you can listenand hear their voices. let me end with a story and then we'll engage yourquestions over here at the table. we're all wanting to just somehow imitate the kind of god we believe in. god is compassionate lovingkindness, so all we're called to do really is to just bein the world who god is.
if we choose to do that, thenwe're responding to god's hope which is that my joy may beyours and your joy complete. that's what it looks like. and we want to be a church that is joyful. and kinship is thedream come true for god. i believe it's the only praisethat god has any interest in. whoopie goldberg was askedin the q&a who was the living person she most admired, andi suppose she could have said a whole bunch of peoplebut she said pope francis.
and then she added this, "yeah, he's going withthe original program." i love that. i think people want theoriginal program which is, in the end, to imitate thekind of god you believe in. pope francis call this incyclical, the joy of the gospel. it's not the grim duty of following jesus. it's not called thethrill of being catholic. it's the joy of the gospel.
so the trick is to findthe marrow of the gospel and to choose to take seriouslywhat jesus took seriously. and he only took four things seriously. they're big things, but it's only four. inclusion, non violence,compassionate loving kindness which is unconditional, that'sone thing, and acceptance. that's the original program,and that's where we want to be. a woman interviewed me on the christian broadcastingnetwork and she said
what we do at homeboy, and i did the whole listfrom tattoo removal, to therapy, to job training,to case management. i went on and on and on. at the end, she kind ofmade a face like she smells something foul and she said,"yeah, but how much time "do you spend each day athomeboy industries praising god?" i didn't know what tosay except all damn day, which i don't believe sheliked that answer very much.
but i think it's the original program. we want to stay close to this and close to the bone of the gospel where we take seriouslywhat jesus took seriously, and that's the only praisegod has any interest in. so last story. so it occurs to universities sometimes, especially when they haveforced their students to read my book against their will,
to invite me, and i'm not complaining. i was invited by my alma mater, gonzaga, undefeated, number one. so i decided sure, and they said, "please bring two homies with you," and so i always do if they ask. and i try to pick homies to go in a kind of a very scientific way. i always pick homieswho are from rival gangs
just so that they'll haveto share a hotel together, hotel room, just to mess with them. and i always pick homies who'venever flown before just for the thrill of seeing gangmembers panicked in the sky. we flew the other day. and i remember once i brought two homies, older guys, and we wereflying to washington dc, and very seriously said, "are we flying virgin becausethis is our first time?"
and i told them yes. last week, i was in toledoand cleveland with two homies. and one guy got up andhe was just so thrilled. it was his first flight. he goes, "damn, i've neverflown overseas before," and we were in toledo. so then i picked two homies, and bobby, african-american gang memberwho worked in the bakery, and mario, at the time workedin our merchandise store.
and i've done this so manytimes with men and women, hundreds and hundreds of times. i've never picked anybodymore terrified of flying than this guy mario. i mean he was just terrified. he was hyperventilating, hee-ha-hee, and we hadn't evengotten on the plane yet. so we're at burbankairport which is a kind of a smaller airport, big, bigwindows, southwest airlines
mainly, and they don't havethat hermetically sealed shoot where you get on to get on the plane. you have to walk out onto thetarmac, and there are steps that lead to the front ofthe plane and steps that lead to the back of the plane,which is the big feature there. so we're sitting thereand it's early morning and our plane arrives, andpeople are getting off the plane. and i said, "mario, that's our plane." hee-hoo, i think he may die
before we actually climb up those stairs. so i see at the early morning, there are two flight attendants,females, and they both have very large cups of starbuckscoffee and they're schlepping up those front stepsto get into the plane. and mario goes, "when are wegoing to board the plane?" i go, "as soon as theysober up the pilots. "there they go now."(audience laughs) all right, so maybe i shouldn'thave said that to him.
so i should tell you that in my 30 years at homeboy industries,mario was the most tattooed individual i've ever known. he's totally sleeved out, neck blackened with the name of his gang, headshaved, covered in tattoos, forehead, cheeks, and chin covered. and i'd never been in public with him. and so we were walkingthrough burbank airport, people are like this,
and mothers are clutchingtheir kids more closely. and i think wow, isn't that interesting, because if you were to askanybody tomorrow at homeboy who's the kindest, most gentlesoul, the most tender person who works here, they won't say me. they'll say mario, who nowworks selling baked goods behind the counter, kind, gentle, tender. he's proof that only the soulthat ventilates the world with tenderness has anychance of changing that world.
so we get to gonzaga andthis happens often enough in universities, butnever here at holy cross. i really thank you for this,but they'll have the big talk at night, and this was huge. it had 2,000 people. but they don't tell youis that they've planned 93 other talks for you, thisclass, this class, this lunch, this meeting, this class, all day long. and so i tell these two guys,
"i'm not going to speak at any of these. "i'm going to sit in the back of the room. "i want you to get upand tell your stories." and so they do, and they'renervous, especially mario, but they do such a goodjob and stories of terror, and torture, and violence,and abuse of every kind. and honest to god, if theirstories had been flames, you'd have to keep your distance. otherwise, you'd get scorched.
so the nighttime talkcomes and it's just packed. and i said, "look, i'll do my thing, "but can you get up before, do a little "five-minute polaroid sothat i can include you "in the question and answer afterwards?" and they're terrifiedagain, especially mario, but they do it and they do a good job. and i do my thing and then,"okay, yeah, questions. "yes, ma'am," and a womanstands and she says,
"yeah, i got a question. "it's for mario." and the three of us arestanding at the podium and mario steps to the microphone. he clutches it, "yes,"and he's just terrified. "well, you say you havea son and a daughter "and they're both about toreach their teenage years. "what wisdom do you impart to them? "what advice do you give them?"
mario clutches the microphone. i can feel him trembling and i can feel the emotions sort of rising. and he's getting a damnhernia trying to come up with this answer when suddenlyhe blurts out, "i just." and as soon as he says thosetwo words, he retreats back to the microphone clutching,eyes closed, retreat, and he's trembling allthe more and it feels like he's going to explode but hewants to get this sentence out.
"i just don't want my kidsto turn out to be like me." and there's silence until the woman whoasked the question stands and it's her turn to cry now. "why wouldn't you want yourkids to turn out to be like you? "you are loving, you are kind, "you are gentle, you are wise. "i hope your kids turnout to be like you." and 2,000 perfect total strangers stand,
and they will not stop clapping. and all mario can do ishold his face in his hands, so overwhelmed that thisroom full of strangers had returned him to himself and they, in turn, werereturned to themselves because it's mutual. and i think that's the onlypraise god has any interest in because that's the original program
that you may be one. that's it. the widow, orphan, and stranger, trustworthy guides to get us there. and pretty soon, you ceaseto care whether anyone accuses you of wasting your time for in this place of whichyou say it is a waste, there will be heardagain the voice of mirth
and the voice of gladness,the voices of those who sing. and so we choose all over again to make those voices heard. thank you very much. i know we have a microphonethere, but it usually works well if you just go likethis and i go like that. otherwise-- - i will ask them to go tothe mic if they can do it. - okay.
so before we do that, ifi could, is malinka here? malinka, raise your hand. there you are. she was born on this day. ♫ happy birthday to you ♫ happy birthday dear malinka the old people in theaudience remember kind of i've got a secret or oneof those things where, your sister, anna, i know her.
so she emailed me and she said,"oh, her birthday is today." sorry to have mortified you. all right, so fire away, questions. - so head up to the mic, don't be shy. - here's my suggestion,'cause i do this so often, that only a certain kind of person is going to walk to themicrophone 'cause it's hard. the questions you want areseated in these chairs right now, so i'm going to try somethingif you don't mind, okay?
and if you can't hear it, i'mgoing to go ahead and repeat it. so you go like this, i golike that, yell it out. trust me, it works better. yes. - [woman] so you said you'vebeen doing this for 30 years. how do you avoid burnout? - how do i avoid burnout after 30 years, well, because i think part of the thing is what is the thing that depletes us?
if my job is to save these guys, then i would have burnedout a long time ago. i was in houston, a hardcoregang intervention worker, gang member, former gangmember, felon, pleading with me, "how do you reach them?" i said, for starters,stop trying to reach them. can you be reached by them? so if my job is to reachthese two, i will burn out. but if my job is to be reached by them,
it's a whole different ball game. it's ennobling, it's mutual. my life has changed completely forever. now that may sound selfish, and that's sort of thesecret, is that it is. people go, "wow, i meangosh, how do you do it?" and i think, "is it supposed to be hard?" because if you're saving theworld, it's going to be hard. and you will be depleted,and you will burn out.
but you're not supposed to do that. you're supposed to receive people. you're supposed to allowyourself to be reached by people. and so the choice is savethe world or savor the world. i vote for savor. and because if you choosesavoring the world, i don't know how it works. the world gets saved ifpeople are savoring it. if people are appreciating who people are,
if you allow yourselfto be reached by folks, then it's extraordinary, what happens. - [man] it sounds likethat church in between the two housing projects that you pastored was a fortuitous stop(mumbles) at homeboy. how did you get that job? was that a short straw? were you the short straw guy? were you just there or what?
- that's a good question. so how did i end up at dolores mission? so i was ordained in 1894, and then i did a year of theology with the very reverendjim hayes at berkeley. no, that's not right. is that right? no, after '84 i wentto bolivia for a year, and then i came back andthen i did a year with
the reverend jim hayes atberkeley to finish up my theology. but i had been invited togo to sta. clara university to run their immersion program, which was kind of a newidea of 30-some years ago, and it wasn't enough for me. so bolivia sort of changed me. so i went to my provincial, jack clark, and i said, "please don'tsend me to sta. clara. "it's just not enough.
"i mean maybe dolores mission." he goes, "oh, my god, i need a pastor. "the pastor just left there." so i was the youngestpastor in the history of the diocese there, soi was so ill equipped. and i got there and icould barely speak spanish, and i didn't know anything which again was a great gift because then, the people had to leadbecause i couldn't do it.
so yeah, it was fortuitous. i'm grateful. - [man] how long didyou stay pastor there? - i was there for six years,and then i did (mumbles). '86 to '92 i was there. - [man] (mumbles) that you two had to make since joining the program? - the hardest? - [man] the change thatthey've had to make.
- yeah, what change have youhad to do that was the hardest? - accepting that working with-- - oops, sorry. - accepting that workingwith an enemy, shaking hands with them every morning,telling them good morning. it wasn't something i was used to. i used to be like, "forget that, i ain't goingto shake that guy's hand. "you're my rival enemy, killedone of my homies before."
that's something, once iwalked through those doors, i had to accept that change that i wanted. - i think the biggest challenge for me was accepting the fact thatthere's not going to be any more gangbanging in mylife because i still live in my neighborhood and just(mumbles) and to realize that all it takes is once,one time to get high. all it takes is one timeto kick with the homies and i end up back in jail.
or all it takes is to bewalking down the wrong street and someone i hurt backthen sees me and i'm dead. so the biggest challenge isturning my back on all that and just living the lifeof a regular person now because it's not only me no more. i got my daughter now. so i got to think for two and not just me. - yes, way back there. - [man] (mumbles)
people that you used to hang out with, do they judge you at all for joining homeboy andyou kind of left that life? - my neighborhood? - yeah, so the homiesfrom your neighborhood, do they judge your harshly? do they talk talk (mumbles) to you? - to be honest, in the beginning, they did because i was oneof those gang members where,
like i said, my dadwas in my neighborhood. so i was following his name. i was under his wing. so in the beginning, ishown, i came strong, i was going to run amok. but then i guess whatthey say as weakness, the homie showing weakness,and one of those are rule. that's a rule in the neighborhoodthat you can't do it. you cannot show weakness,you can't say no.
i heard a lot of the negativity, but also i got in contactwith my uncle again over a meeting in the neighborhood. that was just a prank. me and my uncle, we went atit one time, literally fought. and my homie comes and he shakes my hand, and he's like, "that'sright, homie, you back. "i thought we were going to lose you." and i looked at him and iwas like, "man," sorry for
my language, "but fuck this,this is not me no more. "gangbanging ain't me. "i like being sober and having fun, seeing things, being here with you guys." and my uncle looks at me and just joy, and i see a tear coming downon a man that's making calls in the neighborhood, all tattooed up, somebody that people, they fear him. they don't love him, they fear him.
and he looks at me and hegrabs me and he holds me, and he's like, "damn, hijo, you changing. "you're a different guy whogot in the neighborhood." and he gave me what they call props, appreciate i guess somebody that i did it. it's something weak to them, but to me it's something that's a blessing. it's the biggest change in mylife and i will never regret. - yeah, actually, i doget a lot of negativity
from the homies that are around my age because i'm not too much older. i'm only 20 years old, andeverybody in my generation are still out there gettinghigh, getting out of jail. sometimes they hitting me up (mumbles). excuse my language but they're like, "stop bullshitting already. "that ain't you. "stop working.
"you're going to fall back andyou're going to come back home." but it's something i got to ignore because that's not what iwant in my life no more. misery loves company andi'm done with all that, having no one to go toand those lonely nights in the streets because i foundout that your closest friend will forget about you in a quick second once you're in jail or you're gone. and the person that really needs me
is the one that's going to be losing out. so at the end of the day, it really don't matter what anybody says. it's all about what youwant to do with your life. - it's a little bit like drug rehab. if somebody used to shootheroine and then you went to drug rehab, and thenyou run into somebody who you used to shoot with andshe is currently shooting up, she doesn't hate youbecause you went to rehab.
she may say, "yeah, good for you. "i'm not quite ready to do that," but it's more akin tothat than anything else. so there's a lot ofmythic misunderstandings that these guys arehunted men or something. and the truth is 93% ofall gang members want what these guys have,which is a reason to get up in the morning and a reasonnot to gangbang the night before, and they just wanttheir kids to call them daddy.
that's what they want. everybody wants that, butit takes people a while. our program is not forthose who need help. it's only for those who wantit, and it takes what it takes for somebody to walk through our doors. the birth of a son or daughter or the death of a friend ora long stretch in prison, it takes what it takes in recovering. no amount of me wanting thatgang member to have a life
will ever be the same asthat one wanting to have one. yes, sir. - [man] how long did it take for you to look at your enemy in a different way? - how long did it take for them to look at their enemy in a different way. - well, i don't know the exacttime, but once i was in jail and i'm shaking hands withan enemy because i had to, that moment, it just,like i said, it hit me.
why would i be out thereshooting that somebody knowing that i could be doing life in jail for the rest of my life if i get caught? so that day, it changed me. walking in those doors athomeboys industry changed me. - that's actually a good question because the way i found out that, i went to this home wheni got out of jail, right? it's for a bunch of parolees.
and i walk into this room and my bunkee was my rival gang member. and i was like, "man, how isthis thing going to work." so he comes up to me, he shakes my hand. he tells me where he's from and i'm like, (mumbles) he's talkingto me and i hit him like, "if you don't get away fromme, dog," but he told me, "well, you've ever beenat homeboy industries." (mumbles) i got my job.
and he's like, "let's go together." so we started going together and we started talkingmore and more and more. and we got hired together,and he actually became a real, real good friendof mine and still is. he was actually one of thefirst (mumbles) to hold my baby. he's welcome into my housenow, and we text everyday. we just got off the phoneliterally probably an hour ago. and yeah, my enemy becameone of my best friends.
- you can't demonize people you know. that's kind of impossible. yes, back there. go ahead. - [man] okay. (mumbles) i'm sorry, i came in reallylate, so i didn't catch what the two homies were saying (mumbles) really, really great to hear from you. my question is for father boyle.
right now, in the midst of our country, some would say we're inthe biggest racial tension, probably even since the civil rights era. you're well entrenched in your community that they would (mumbles). you have some of that clout so to speak. what wisdom would you sharewith someone who has a heart and desire to reach out to that community that doesn't actuallylook like their community
especially in this day and time? - so the question is abouthow you reach out as somebody who doesn't look like somebodyfrom particular communities. i mean it's a questioni get a fair amount. i think our tendency isno kinship, no justice, no kinship, no peace, no kinship, no equality. so we're endlesslydisqualifying ourselves. i couldn't possibly relate,
that's the word we use,relate, to gang members because i'm not a gangmember, and i'm not latino, and i'm not african american,and i've never been in prison except as a chaplain,and i don't own a tattoo. but that's a problembecause it's a human thing. so if you're the proud owner of a pulse, then you can connectto other human beings, and that's the great discovery. what happens is that we think
it's about something ihave to impart to them and because i have to tell them something. step aside, let me handle this. i'm a gang member, i used to be there. i've been there, done that, i know this. step aside, let me handle it. if the task is for a person to talk to them and to tell them stuff and to grab them by the lapel and say,
"don't you see," it'd probably be better if it was a gang member who did that, but that's of course not the task. fortunately for everybody in this room, the task is not to tell them anything. the task is to allow yourselfto be reached by them. the task is to receive them. the task is to listen to them. and because that's thetask, everybody can do it.
but the more it becomesrarefied and narrow, that's the sign of unhealthin any community, i think. any entity that says, "stepaside, let me handle this. "i'm going in there. "it's a tough job, somebody's got to," no. whenever it's overdramatic, rarefied, narrow, it's unhealthy, and thathappens in a lot of cities. the more it's all handson deck, find me somebody who couldn't be a beneficial presence
to everything that ailsus in the inner city, you wouldn't be able to find somebody. once it's expansive andspacious like the god we have, then suddenly, it's a game changer. lately though, i'vebeen taking to thinking that as bad as we think things are, they're never as bad asthey used to be, never. in fact, every single day, more progress. even people, and i'll include myself,
who are kind of desolate at theprospects of some prospects, nothing is worse todaythan it was yesterday. it just isn't. somebody said to me,"i just want to return "to what life was likewhen i was growing up." well, when i was growing up, people sat at the back of the bus. why would we ever go back to anything that happened three days ago
much less 50 years ago? it doesn't make any sense. but we're making progressin the good everyday even if it doesn't feel like it, and nothing is worse todaythan it was yesterday. everything is better todaythan it was yesterday. how about one last question? way back there, yes, because i called on you before and now--
- [woman] i wanted to ask the homies what made them trust father g. and what made you guys feelthat you can go to homeboys? - what made you trust me? and what made you feel likeyou could go to homeboy? i'm just repeating thatfor anybody else there. - what made me trust himwas, i know i didn't say it but when i was a baby, mydad shot and killed himself. so i never really had a father figure.
i looked up to my cousin and stuff because that's what i wanted to be. i wanted to be a gang memberthat everybody feared. so i really never let anybodyout of my family into my life. so walking into thosedoors, i expected to meet some boss guy sittingbehind a desk just like, "all right, what do you want?" but that wasn't the case. i walked in.
he told me, "what is iti can do for you, son?" and he sat there andlistened to my problems and listened to everything i had to say. then he gave me a hug andoffering everything i needed, and that's somethingthat i never had before, especially from a male figure. after that, our relationshiphas continued to grow ever since, and i feelglad i got to know father. and i do trust him with everything.
- thank you. - me, when i came in at homeboys industry, i didn't know about father g. once they pointed himout to me, i was like, "really, that's g right there?" it's not in a bad way. just like i'm over here, in mymind i'm like he's hispanic. they call him g-dog for a reason, right? he might be from theneighborhood too, just like me.
i see him, i'm shocked andi see him hugging everybody. i was like, "damn,everybody respects him." then it was my turn to go in. so i sat down right in front of him. he didn't take his eyes off of me. he was just saying,"hey, so what happened, "what do you need, what are you here for?" "i'm here for a job. "i want a job.
"i want to change my life. "i'm here to change. "i'm ready." open arms, he didn't hesitate. he didn't judge me bythe way i was dressed in the beginning becausei did not look like this when i came in homeboys industry. my pants were baggy. my shirt was two sizesbigger than my size,
hat on, bandana on my left side. it wasn't me, who i am now, all bald headed. he didn't judge me for whoi was, not for a moment. he just said, "yes, starttomorrow, eight o'clock. "can you do that?" i was like, "damn, really?" a guy from a different race that's going to trust me like that
and not judge me by theway i look, it was amazing. i felt loved out of sight, like he says, kinship,helped me out like nothing, not even knowing me, not even going to deep stories in my life. - let me just finish with this. i think part of what our tendency in the city is to deliver services. so we all have the same menu.
anywhere i go, anger management, parenting, job training, everything. it's the same menu ofdelivery of services. and so then it sort ofbecomes like the dmv, and now serving number49 with an attitude. but it's not about thedelivery of services, and it's not about those menu items. we do all those at homeboy industries. it's only about the community,and it's about creating
a community of tendernessbecause every gang member who walks through our doors is carrying this enormous weight ofthis chronic massive stress. and unless they can find some alivio,as we say in spanish, in that community, they'renever going to be able to reidentify who they are in the world. these guys have reidentified themselves. so now they go out afterthe 18 months with us,
and now the world willthrow at them what it will, but this time they won't be toppled by it. that's the big difference. so a homie came into my officenamed germaine, 30 years old, african american gang member,and he had been working at homeboy for about four months. and homeboy is like the discovery channel. everyday, you're discovering something because you're allowed to do that
with the stress relieved in aplace that holds you tenderly, and you can hang on to that tenderness. it doesn't just hold you. you can hang on to it. you can hold on to it as well. so he comes into my office and he said, "i discoveredsomething today." so he tells me that whenhe was nine years old, he was sitting in front of the tv,
watching it, lying on his stomach. and he could tell fromhis peripheral vision somebody had walked in. and he turns around and he sees his mom. she's standing in the doorway. she's not saying anything. as he brings focus toher, he sees that her arms are outstretched and she hasprofoundly and deeply slit her wrists and blood iscoursing onto the floor.
and then she says toher nine-year-old boy, "see what you made me do." well, the next day, hewas taken from her care and put into the foster care system. quite telling and disturbing and tragic is that his other twosibs, a boy and a girl, weren't taken from hercare, only him, which seemed to underscore the thing youwould never want to underscore. that was at nine.
at 13, he got jumped into a gang. at 17, he was raised the restof the way by incarceration. and he comes to homeboyand he's 30 years old. and he's there four months,and he's sitting in my office. and he's told me that story, now he's just sobbing uncontrollably. and he says, "and here'swhat i discovered. "i discovered today that i had always "preferred my rage to my shame."
and because he made that discovery in the community oftenderness that held him, for the first time in hislife, he was able to forgive his mother for having beenmentally ill and forgive himself for having once been a nine-year-old boy. and the soul feels its worth. long lay the world insin and error pining, till he appeared andthe soul felt its worth. yeah, it's about jesus.
yeah, it's about christmas. but how is it not your jobdescription as human beings? you appear, the soul feels its worth, not because you've come to the rescue but because you have allowed yourself to be reached by somebody who'scarried more than you have. and that leaves everybody feeling worthy.
thank you all very much.
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