A Fear-Less Life
In the fall of 2015, I studied abroad through the SHC Italy Center, located in Bologna, Italy. At one point in the semester, we planned an art history trip to Paris.
Roughly two weeks before we were destined to depart, the Paris terror attack of November 13, 2015 shook the world. I remember my phone buzzing with notifications and watching in amazement as the news reports and film stories began to stack from every source of social media.
In the midst of the chaos, we learned that two classmates were a few blocks away from a restaurant that had been barraged with gunfire. A few days after, our trip was canceled. We gathered together to discuss and reflect on what happened. My main takeaway from those conversations was to not live in fear.
This message has remained etched on both my mind and heart, as I continue to pursue work and service for others. I refuse to let fear cloud my judgment, as I work to connect with other people.
In summer of 2017, I was fortunate to return to Italy; this time with a different purpose. There were no classrooms or assignments, solely a test of the human spirit. I worked at a center for asylum seekers in Brindisi, Italy. My intention was to learn more about the refugee crisis from both the migrant and European perspective. I hoped to capture and relay the many lessons and stories that I learned to people back home. Education and exposure are the most effective remedies for this crisis. I did my best to chronologize my experience, but there are many things that cannot be captured with words. They can only be felt. One of these feelings is fear.
While working in Italy, I found it fascinating that the majority of Italians did not use the word “refugee.” Instead, many of them used “i stranieri,” or “foreigners.” To no surprise, this paints a different picture of the refugee crisis for Italian citizens. The migrants are perceived to be foreigners invading Italian soil, rather than men, women, and children praying to seek refuge.
Fearful for how far this so-called invasion could go, an anger begins to formulate from the confusion that accompanies fear. This anger clashes with anything that negates what we believe to be true and right. As this rift continues to form with one’s beliefs, a callous for other people’s feelings begins to form. Walking down the streets of a lively city should not be intimidating; however, if I was talking with one of the men from the center, I would see locals stare at me, staining me with disapproval. Although the locals did not know my name, they associated me with this unacceptable movement.
In time, this anger took on a new form: hatred. This is what clouds people’s hearts, causing blindness to the universal values of human dignity, unity, and prosperity. Additionally, there are three branches that stem from this hatred: selfishness, impatience, and intolerance. This slippery slope to hatred was prevalent with one volunteer I worked with during the summer. We both volunteered at a soup kitchen, where most of the clients are migrants. Although his acts of volunteerism targeted the impoverished and migrants of the community, his actions deterred any sense or acceptance of the word “community.” He would joke about the men often, criticize them constantly, and even propose to settle disputes with a fight. I was appalled by this volunteer’s approach. He was responsible for providing a safe and inclusive environment for these men and women, so they may enjoy a meal; however, he reinforced the fallacy that they should feel ashamed for who they are.
Suffering is the byproduct of hatred. Selfishness, impatience, and intolerance reject the idea and ability of connecting mankind. It leaves one feeling lonely, helpless, and worthless. Now, an internal fear has metamorphosed into a suffering that others feel. Due to this separation of ‘local’ and ‘foreigner,’ the men whom I connected with at the center felt rejected by the city.
When given the opportunity, a fellow intern spoke with one of the volunteers at the soup kitchen and asked for his perspective on ‘i stranieri’ coming to their small city. Surprisingly, he did not understand the background of these people and the circumstances in which they left their various countries. To him, they were simply foreigners. It took a lot of patience and time to enlighten this volunteer, but this conversation had a profound impact. He began to actively pursue relationships with the people who came to the soup kitchen.
With regard to our Catholic social teaching, we are taught that “The Kingdom of God is within man.” This is not limited to a single man or a group of men. Rather, the Kingdom of God is within all men, and, therefore, we must live it out. Rather than cowering in fear or fooling ourselves with hatred, we should be searching for Jesus within every man, woman, and child.
When we close ourselves in with fear and hatred, the world inevitably feels a lot bigger and scarier. We must remove this lens of fear and begin to actively live a life that praises one another for each other’s differences. When wanting to speak up, a fear may creep into you, but do not let that hinder your ability and responsibility to speak out for those whose voices cannot be heard. We owe it to ourselves and to others to use our empathy, intellect, and radical compassion to build bridges, no matter how uncomfortable and scary. Ultimately, we must learn to live a “fear-less” life.
Until next time,
the chameleon
Roughly two weeks before we were destined to depart, the Paris terror attack of November 13, 2015 shook the world. I remember my phone buzzing with notifications and watching in amazement as the news reports and film stories began to stack from every source of social media.
In the midst of the chaos, we learned that two classmates were a few blocks away from a restaurant that had been barraged with gunfire. A few days after, our trip was canceled. We gathered together to discuss and reflect on what happened. My main takeaway from those conversations was to not live in fear.
This message has remained etched on both my mind and heart, as I continue to pursue work and service for others. I refuse to let fear cloud my judgment, as I work to connect with other people.
In summer of 2017, I was fortunate to return to Italy; this time with a different purpose. There were no classrooms or assignments, solely a test of the human spirit. I worked at a center for asylum seekers in Brindisi, Italy. My intention was to learn more about the refugee crisis from both the migrant and European perspective. I hoped to capture and relay the many lessons and stories that I learned to people back home. Education and exposure are the most effective remedies for this crisis. I did my best to chronologize my experience, but there are many things that cannot be captured with words. They can only be felt. One of these feelings is fear.
While working in Italy, I found it fascinating that the majority of Italians did not use the word “refugee.” Instead, many of them used “i stranieri,” or “foreigners.” To no surprise, this paints a different picture of the refugee crisis for Italian citizens. The migrants are perceived to be foreigners invading Italian soil, rather than men, women, and children praying to seek refuge.
Fearful for how far this so-called invasion could go, an anger begins to formulate from the confusion that accompanies fear. This anger clashes with anything that negates what we believe to be true and right. As this rift continues to form with one’s beliefs, a callous for other people’s feelings begins to form. Walking down the streets of a lively city should not be intimidating; however, if I was talking with one of the men from the center, I would see locals stare at me, staining me with disapproval. Although the locals did not know my name, they associated me with this unacceptable movement.
In time, this anger took on a new form: hatred. This is what clouds people’s hearts, causing blindness to the universal values of human dignity, unity, and prosperity. Additionally, there are three branches that stem from this hatred: selfishness, impatience, and intolerance. This slippery slope to hatred was prevalent with one volunteer I worked with during the summer. We both volunteered at a soup kitchen, where most of the clients are migrants. Although his acts of volunteerism targeted the impoverished and migrants of the community, his actions deterred any sense or acceptance of the word “community.” He would joke about the men often, criticize them constantly, and even propose to settle disputes with a fight. I was appalled by this volunteer’s approach. He was responsible for providing a safe and inclusive environment for these men and women, so they may enjoy a meal; however, he reinforced the fallacy that they should feel ashamed for who they are.
Suffering is the byproduct of hatred. Selfishness, impatience, and intolerance reject the idea and ability of connecting mankind. It leaves one feeling lonely, helpless, and worthless. Now, an internal fear has metamorphosed into a suffering that others feel. Due to this separation of ‘local’ and ‘foreigner,’ the men whom I connected with at the center felt rejected by the city.
When given the opportunity, a fellow intern spoke with one of the volunteers at the soup kitchen and asked for his perspective on ‘i stranieri’ coming to their small city. Surprisingly, he did not understand the background of these people and the circumstances in which they left their various countries. To him, they were simply foreigners. It took a lot of patience and time to enlighten this volunteer, but this conversation had a profound impact. He began to actively pursue relationships with the people who came to the soup kitchen.
With regard to our Catholic social teaching, we are taught that “The Kingdom of God is within man.” This is not limited to a single man or a group of men. Rather, the Kingdom of God is within all men, and, therefore, we must live it out. Rather than cowering in fear or fooling ourselves with hatred, we should be searching for Jesus within every man, woman, and child.
When we close ourselves in with fear and hatred, the world inevitably feels a lot bigger and scarier. We must remove this lens of fear and begin to actively live a life that praises one another for each other’s differences. When wanting to speak up, a fear may creep into you, but do not let that hinder your ability and responsibility to speak out for those whose voices cannot be heard. We owe it to ourselves and to others to use our empathy, intellect, and radical compassion to build bridges, no matter how uncomfortable and scary. Ultimately, we must learn to live a “fear-less” life.
Until next time,
the chameleon
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