Forget about me: Part 2
“I think that's what our world is desperately in need of - lovers, people who are building deep, genuine relationships with fellow strugglers along the way, and who actually know the faces of the people behind the issues they are concerned about.”
“Biological family is too small of a vision. Patriotism is far too myopic. A love for our own relatives and a love for the people of our own country are not bad things, but our love does not stop at the border.”
- Shane Claiborne in The Irresistible Revolution: Living as an Ordinary Radical
I read The Irresistible Revolution in college, and it forever changed my worldview. In fact, I spent a significant fraction of 2010 about 2 steps away from dropping everything, moving to Philadelphia, and joining the Simple Way. I became obsessed with the idea of community - how to build one, how to sustain one, and what happens to you when you're in one.
Instead of Philadelphia, I moved to Germany in 2011, and a large part of my motivation for doing so was actually to build international community. I wanted to knock down walls, build bridges across oceans, and further the ideals of community on a global scale. In a lot of ways, I think I succeeded, and when I paid a visit to Germany last October, I experienced the fruits of the friendships I had built there.
Recently, my concept of community has shifted a bit, and I'll explain why. I used to think that building a community was all up to me. I saw myself as the catalyst, the centerpiece, the linchpin. I was the one who introduced new friends, who hosted dinner parties, who gave others a reason to step outside their comfort zones. If I saw a community form around me, it was a sign of my success, and if one didn't form, it was a sign of my failure.
But here's the thing: If I look back on the best communities I have been a part of, I have to admit that I was not the driving force. There was the group I interned with during summer 2010; there was my working group at the AWI in Germany, my girlfriends in Oregon, and now my housemates in Norway. In each case, building community wasn't up to me - it was up to all of us. It just happened.
As I was walking home last night through downtown Stavanger, arm-in-arm with one of my housemates, she told me how much she would miss me. She said I was an essential part of the Kirkebakken family. Her words meant a lot to me, but I've got to be honest: I was surprised. I mean, I consider my housemates to be my Norwegian family, but I didn't know they felt the same way about me. I have made no special effort to further this community. In fact, most nights, I just come home, eat dinner in my room, and then crash in bed.
I got another surprise last night from a housemate: a gift that he had only jokingly half-promised me. It's a T-shirt with Vladmir Putin's face and the caption "Everything is going according to plan." This particular housemate is from Lithuania, and he and I have a long-running, half-joking political disagreement about the proper role of Russia in the modern world. Our opinions are polar opposites, but after a couple intense discussions, we came to a lighthearted understanding and now have some pretty entertaining nicknames for each other. I didn't expect him to actually get me a Putin shirt, but I tell you what, I'm going to wear that thing loud and proud.
You see, friends, this is what happens when you are swept up into a community. You change for the better. You learn to appreciate others' perspectives. You get involved in other's lives. I didn't seek this out; I didn't build a multi-step plan and implement each phase of community development at regular intervals. Honestly, I didn't even think about building community in Norway because I had so many other things on my mind when I got here.
Community does not result from the efforts of one person. It takes multiple active participants, but once it happens, it's like getting swept up in a warm, kind tornado. I have been so incredibly blessed to be a part of the Kirkebakken community. My housemates rock.
“Biological family is too small of a vision. Patriotism is far too myopic. A love for our own relatives and a love for the people of our own country are not bad things, but our love does not stop at the border.”
- Shane Claiborne in The Irresistible Revolution: Living as an Ordinary Radical
I read The Irresistible Revolution in college, and it forever changed my worldview. In fact, I spent a significant fraction of 2010 about 2 steps away from dropping everything, moving to Philadelphia, and joining the Simple Way. I became obsessed with the idea of community - how to build one, how to sustain one, and what happens to you when you're in one.
Instead of Philadelphia, I moved to Germany in 2011, and a large part of my motivation for doing so was actually to build international community. I wanted to knock down walls, build bridges across oceans, and further the ideals of community on a global scale. In a lot of ways, I think I succeeded, and when I paid a visit to Germany last October, I experienced the fruits of the friendships I had built there.
Recently, my concept of community has shifted a bit, and I'll explain why. I used to think that building a community was all up to me. I saw myself as the catalyst, the centerpiece, the linchpin. I was the one who introduced new friends, who hosted dinner parties, who gave others a reason to step outside their comfort zones. If I saw a community form around me, it was a sign of my success, and if one didn't form, it was a sign of my failure.
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| Housemates |
But here's the thing: If I look back on the best communities I have been a part of, I have to admit that I was not the driving force. There was the group I interned with during summer 2010; there was my working group at the AWI in Germany, my girlfriends in Oregon, and now my housemates in Norway. In each case, building community wasn't up to me - it was up to all of us. It just happened.
As I was walking home last night through downtown Stavanger, arm-in-arm with one of my housemates, she told me how much she would miss me. She said I was an essential part of the Kirkebakken family. Her words meant a lot to me, but I've got to be honest: I was surprised. I mean, I consider my housemates to be my Norwegian family, but I didn't know they felt the same way about me. I have made no special effort to further this community. In fact, most nights, I just come home, eat dinner in my room, and then crash in bed.
 |
| Cultural exchange at its finest. |
I got another surprise last night from a housemate: a gift that he had only jokingly half-promised me. It's a T-shirt with Vladmir Putin's face and the caption "Everything is going according to plan." This particular housemate is from Lithuania, and he and I have a long-running, half-joking political disagreement about the proper role of Russia in the modern world. Our opinions are polar opposites, but after a couple intense discussions, we came to a lighthearted understanding and now have some pretty entertaining nicknames for each other. I didn't expect him to actually get me a Putin shirt, but I tell you what, I'm going to wear that thing loud and proud.
You see, friends, this is what happens when you are swept up into a community. You change for the better. You learn to appreciate others' perspectives. You get involved in other's lives. I didn't seek this out; I didn't build a multi-step plan and implement each phase of community development at regular intervals. Honestly, I didn't even think about building community in Norway because I had so many other things on my mind when I got here.
Community does not result from the efforts of one person. It takes multiple active participants, but once it happens, it's like getting swept up in a warm, kind tornado. I have been so incredibly blessed to be a part of the Kirkebakken community. My housemates rock.
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