To find out how to apply for the summer programme, please visit the Jesuit Volunteer Community website: www.jvcbritain.org or call the office on 0161 832 6888

A volunteer shares his experience

JVC was recommended to me by my chaplaincy priest, who is a Jesuit. I had been enjoying weekly catechetical meetings with him in the run up to my Easter reception into the Church, and he expressed a wish that we do some charitable work to focus our preparation. This seemed an excellent idea to me, resonating with my lately renewed understanding of Christian justification. I submitted my application pondering the words of James 2:17 that “faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead”; I was eager to bear some fruit for God! JVC seemed a fitting follow up to an important spiritual milestone in my life, and so I heard of my acceptance with cheerful optimism.

Summer volunteers at the induction weekend

After a reassuring welcome weekend at the beginning of August, my group took a taxi to our new home in Manchester; there were six of us in all. The house was surrounded by an intimidating security fence, quickly earning it the nickname `Fort JVC’. Unfortunately I drew the short straw with bedrooms, sleeping in what had always been an unloved spare room for a household of five. I persevered though, increasingly aware that in our neighbourhood and many like it people would be enduring worse, and soon became accustomed to it. On a positive note, this led me to spend minimal time away from our cosier living room, which became the scene for many enjoyable meals and at times testy arguments. Although we were drawn from a range of cultures, it was principally differences in our personalities that led to creative friction. Time nudged us from being a loose association to something closer to a true community, where we could be open about our feelings. The biweekly facilitator meetings where a former JVC participant led structured discussions about one of the programme values were particularly helpful in this regard, and were often times of fun and laughter. In truth though, by the time we had really begun to gel the month was over. But what we always shared from the beginning was a commitment to our volunteer placements, to which the best part of the weekdays was devoted.

I spent my time in a homeless drop in centre called Cornerstone – in the morning we would pray ‘Jesus, you are the cornerstone of my life and desires’ and that we might show His love to all we would meet that day. I found the subtle but genuine Christian ethos behind their mission to be a real source of strength in my own interaction with the service users. Engaging in a series of different jobs, such as serving food and hot drinks, working in the clothes shop or assisting on telephone calls, I was able to experience these transitory relationships in a new light. I quickly came not to feel as if I were the ‘giver’ of charity and they were the ‘receiver’, with the kind of power play implicit in such a scheme; instead that we were sharing the gift together in such as way as the encounter could leave us both feeling grateful, humbled that providence had seen fit to bring this coalition of people and resources together to a tangible end. My estimation of human decency was heartened by the genuine good nature of most of the users I met, who even in trying circumstances could joke with a resigned smile. The relentless effort of the centre staff to make human progress in the daily chaos of spilt food, lost forms or petty arguments was testament to a deep faith that greater forces of love and justice will see good works through to completion.
In the course of a day I would often spend some time simply reflecting on the activity going on around me, quietly nursing a cup of tea like many of the service users themselves. In this way I had some intriguing and humorous conversations, topics ranging from times spent in prison to the likelihood of extraterrestrial life.

One afternoon a discreet, thoughtful sort of man said to me very earnestly that `remember: every day is different. And each day shapes you into a different person. So appreciate the person you are today, because tomorrow you will have forgotten your old self’. As I was wont to do, I smiled and nodded, perceiving that these were the words of someone whose life was very much lived not knowing what the future holds. Looking up to the high window ledge above the kitchen counter, I saw the crucifix placed there in silhouette, raised beyond all the bustle below. I thought: my friend is indeed right that we do change every day. But in relation to Christ we can find some sense of permanent, though progressively revealed, identity. I remembered, “He died for all, so that those who live might live no longer for themselves, but for him who died and was raised for them” (2 Cor 5:15). Through my JVC work, I came to a much greater sense that in living for Christ, that is, actively serving those in need, the passing days become less disconnected and ‘random’ and more a story of your own unique worth to others, a story that reveals your personality even as it is told.  While not all of my JVC days bore such fruitful reflection, the many that did have left me well encouraged to give up more of myself in the future, in the hope that God will graciously continue to reveal more of who I am in relation to Him and Creation.

Edmund (Summer Volunteer 2009 - Manchester)