Adam reflects on how his time volunteering at an advice service and drop-in facility for asylum seekers, refugees, and migrant workers helps him understand the Kingdom of God
Today is a Tuesday, and as I walked from my JVC placement at Rainbow Haven to begin my journey home at the end of the day, I breathed a frustrated sigh of relief.
Not long after I arrived this morning I was whisked away to handle advice work for no less than five people all with very different and difficult problems. After three infuriating phone calls to help sort out one of our client’s gas and electricity supply, I moved onto sharing another immigrant lady’s struggle to make sense of various different housing application forms and letters of which even I – as a native Engish speaker – could only just barely make sense. While this was going on, yet another client needing help with calling an engineer for her faulty BT landline was herself getting understandably irate over the fact that I had promised her three times I would get round to her problem next, yet failing due to the equally-complicated ones already landing in my lap (and forming quite a mess as they did).
When I had finally succeeded in at least trying to address everyone’s individual difficulties at the end of my working day, and walking away with the profound feeling that I had made little if any difference at all, my overall sentiments of complete emotional exhaustion at that point were summed up in a four-letter word that I can’t utter inside the parameters of socially-acceptable conversation. My immediately proceeding thought was that I wouldn’t have changed my day for the world.
To me, not only do experiences like these characterise what it means to be a Jesuit volunteer, they also give thorough context to what it means to be a follower of Christ. I have long believed that social justice is an integral and inextricable component of the Gospel, rather than some “added extra” that we take up if we hold fast to it. Jesus’ mission to demonstrate his supreme love and authority to the world came both in the agency of his preaching and in his truly radical compulsion to embrace the poor, the meek, the lepers, the workers, the prostitutes, and all of those individuals whom society had unjustly pushed onto its margins. At Rainbow Haven I wholeheartedly believe that I share in Jesus’ mission. Especially so within Britain’s current political climate where migrant peoples are viewed by a significant portion of the general public with suspicion and disdain, it is a privilege for me as a Christian to be able to work alongside and stand in solidarity with them.
While I had sympathised with the plight of asylum seekers and refugees for some while before beginning my Jesuit year, I confess that my work placements have made me more aware of the struggles such individuals and families face. Without getting too detailed, it is sufficient to say from my own experiences thus far that the mountain climbed for someone seeking asylum in the UK is steep, rocky, and embedded with different forms of adversity at each milestone. Many such people often end up destitute if their claims have been rejected, leaving them without any form of recognised support and no means to return to their country of origin even if they wanted to. They then have no choice but to rely on a government voucher system, British Red Cross food parcels, and drop-in centres like us who are willing to lend them advice and advocacy. It is clear to me much more so than ever before, how asylum seekers are so constantly faced with persecution, fleeing from it in their home nations only to be faced with yet another form of it, cleverly wrapped up and disguised, in the package of bureaucracy and government political agenda.
The Tuesdays I spend at Rainbow Haven, while often taxing, are always rich and rewarding. It can be difficult to hold back tears when listening to someone’s story of the hardship they have faced, and yet it is also a mysteriously spiritual thing to recognise that asylum seekers, like any other “marginalised group” of people, have a fundamental diversity and humanity. While that surely seems like the most obvious of points, it is nonetheless one we often forget, whether we are uninformed of the facts and keen to lump all immigrants into the same category, or whether we are impassioned about justice and only end up viewing as projects the very people we endeavour to serve.
On one memorable occasion, a client was recounting his case to me and going into great detail about all of the horrendous troubles he has had to deal with… from facing eviction, to not being able to provide either for himself or his family, to severe health issues, etc. Yet, after all of this, and through visibly having to stop himself from trying to cry, my new friend explained to me how much of a strength his Christian faith was to him. At the end of his heartwrenching account, he reflectively trailed off by saying that he would “give it to God.” Experiences like that really humble me, and make me realise that those who are suffering often have far more to teach me about Christ than I have to teach them! This is one of the many points that sets the JVC year apart from other forms of campaigning and activism; it brings you face-to-face with the issues in that you share some of the frustrations the poorest are having to deal with, even if it can only ever be in part.
While I have much to speak highly of regarding my placement at Rainbow Haven, it can also be challenging and draining, but (odd as it may seem) in a very positive way. As a Christian, I feel called to be a peacemaker in a world of violence, and being of unconditional love and service to those who have faced war and persecution has become for me an essential part of my own spiritual growth. Similarly, the difficulties faced by such people upon reaching the UK and having to engage with our system also highlights to me the importance not only of working with others at the grassroots level, but also of challenging the existing political systems and structures which lead certain people to become sidelined and excluded. Our service to the marginalised must necessarily encompass our willingness to non-violently subvert the unjust social and economic structures of our time, just as Jesus’ own ministry was itself a subversive challenge to the authorities of Caesar and the corrupt religious institutions.
Being a Jesuit volunteer may only last for the course of a year, but its ethos is, in my opinion, thoroughly rooted in the ways all Christians should endeavour to conduct their whole lives. Living in the heart of Manchester and witnessing first-hand the problems different people face everyday within its surrounding areas is a stark reminder of how the kingdoms of the world fail those who live under their subjection. The Kingdom of God, on the other hand, begins with these very people, and gently leads its citizens to renounce what they have, share their resources and possessions, live in simplicity, and stand in loving solidarity with those living at the edges of the Empire. This is what us JVC-ers are doing with our year, and long may it continue in the prophetic imagination of our own lives forevermore!
Adam volunteers part time at Church Action on Poverty, working on their Changemakers project, and part time at Rainbow Haven.
