Most of you who have had any interaction with me, whether
big or small, would agree that I am the definition of an optimist, probably to
a fault. Many a college friend have told me to shut up because I always try to
get them to look at the silver linings of bad situations (Josh, I’m talking to
you). It’s always been my nature to look for the good-the humanity in
suffering, the little God moments in bigger, bleaker situations. If there were
one word I would use to describe my personality, it would be “positive.”
During spiritual direction a few weeks ago with our
in-country coordinator and Jesuit priest, Father Tom, I was trying to work
through my experience thus far, and all the struggles we’ve faced: adapting to
the new culture, working within our school, other social justice issues we’ve
encountered, etc. Almost without hesitation, I told Father Tom, “I feel like I’m just jaded, I’m just a cynic
about most of this,” and let out a small chuckle after I finished.
Father Tom made me pause, and asked me a simple question:
“Are you resigned to being a cynic?”
It’s a question I’ve been grappling with since he asked me. Apart
from the darkest times in my life, I would never have even entertained the idea
of a situation being unchangeable. I would never have entertained the idea of
giving up hope in the people I work with and the systems I work within.
Yet here I was, labeling myself as a cynic because of the challenges we JV’s
have faced.
If I had to pick 10 words to describe my experience thus
far, ‘easy’ might fall at number 100. Dealing on a daily basis with injustice:
broken systems and some of the people functioning in those systems, education
problems, alcohol abuse, a lack of health care and mental health resources,
minimal gender equality, among other things, is hard. In the last few months, I
have lost much of the innocence I clung to in college. My time has led me, the
eternal optimist, to consider cynicism instead.
But as I reflect on the last four months in Chuuk, I know my
time has also been filled with some of the clearest moments of God’s grace and
love that I have ever experienced. My community is something that brings me joy
and solace every single day. My students are eager and loving, and some of the
most forgiving people I’ve ever met. Some of our colleagues are passionate
beyond measure, pouring their lives into educating future generations. And I
can truly say I love this place.
Looking into the future, I know I will have my share of bad
days. I will continue encountering people who perpetuate the brokenness that
was once imposed upon them. I will not stop seeing pain and suffering, and I
will continue to be angry at the opportunities many of our students are
continually denied.
I will also see, and choose, love. I will choose
forgiveness, like my students do. I will try to re-embrace some of the
innocence and naiveté that infuriated my college friends, the childlike
perspective that gave me my positive attitude.
So, to answer Father Tom’s question, no. I do not resign
myself to being a cynic. I choose optimism, maybe tempered with a sense of the
reality I live in; I’ll call it ‘optimism-with-a-pinch-of-cynicism.’ I think it will suit me well.
