Transcript: Father Gregory Boyle

An interview with the founder of the largest gang rehabilitation program in the world

It’s Christmas Day and we at Lean Out wanted to bring you a special bonus episode — to celebrate the occasion and to meditate on the meaning of the holiday. My guest on the program is the founder of one of the largest gang intervention, rehabilitation, and re-entry programs in the world. He’s here to share its driving ethos of cherished belonging, and how that might serve as a model for the wider world.

Father Gregory Boyle is an American Jesuit priest and the founder of Homeboy Industries in Los Angeles. Last year, he was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom. His latest book is Cherished Belonging: The Healing Power of Love in Divided Times.

This is an edited transcript for paid subscribers, but we have dropped the paywall this week. You can also listen to the episode for free here.

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TH: It’s wonderful to have you on the show for our Christmas Day episode. This is a current affairs podcast, so we are swimming in the soup of politics every day. The news this year has been heavy. I hear from a lot of people that they are feeling weary and could use some hope. In your book, Cherished Belonging, you use your experience as a priest working with gang members in Los Angeles as a way of addressing the big question that a lot of people in our society have right now. Which is: How do we transcend this painful division, what you call an “excruciating impasse”? I want to start today with you and your story. Father, what first drew you to become ordained?

GB: Well, I’m a Jesuit priest. I was educated by the Jesuits and I found them to be joyful and fearless, and that was a combo that greatly appealed to me. So, I entered the Jesuits 53 years ago. I had hair. [Laughs] I haven’t regretted a minute of it. But then, a vocation within a vocation, I learned Spanish and I found myself being assigned to the poorest parish in Los Angeles that the Jesuits ran, called Dolores Mission. It was in the middle of two public housing projects and it had the highest concentration of gang activity in the whole city. So, eight gangs at war with each other, which is unheard of. I buried my first young person killed because of this sadness in 1988. I’ve buried 263 since then — not all from that community, but I know a lot of gang members.

So, we started a lot of things. We started a school and then a jobs program, trying to find felony-friendly employers. We couldn’t find enough, so we started businesses, or enterprises. Now we have 16 social enterprises and 10,000 folks a year walk through our doors. They are trying to reimagine their lives and we help them do that.

TH: When you started Homeboy Industries, it was at the beginning of the “decade of death” in L.A., of heightened gang violence. In the early years, you received bomb threats and death threats and hate mail. But a turning point came when the first bakery burned down. This is a bakery, you write in the book, where gang members who used to shoot at each other make croissants side by side. Tell us about that turning point for Homeboy Industries.

GB: Well, the hostility that people had towards Homeboy was reflective of what generally the public felt. “Let’s get tough on gangs and wipe them out and lock them up and throw away the key” — that became the battle cry. Then, we proposed something different: What if we were to invest in people instead of trying to incarcerate our way out of everything? The bakery became a symbol. It was an exit ramp off a crazy, violent freeway.

People didn’t probably acknowledge it until it burned to the ground. That’s when the L.A. Times said, “Homeboy belongs to all of us, not to Father Greg Boyle.” So, there was a certain kind of ownership that came that was really healthy. In part, what happened was people said, “Oh, the choice is not tough or soft. The choice is tough or smart.” And people would rather be smart than tough. They don’t want to be soft, but then they knew that that was a false choice. They said, “Well, we’re going to choose smart.” So, that enabled us to [move ahead].

Right now, we’re in our fourth location in Chinatown and it’s quite large. We’ve grown to be quite large and [have been] hoisted up on the shoulders of the city. People said, “We love Homeboy.” Sometimes that’s possible. A lot of times people get discouraged because they want to see results tomorrow, but sometimes it’s the day after tomorrow. So, you better hang in there. And it’s not for the faint of heart, because you’re going to have a lot of hostility from people who demonize and actually think there’s members of our community who are disposable. So, you want to work against that.

TH: You write, “For 40 years, I have been accompanying gang members in Los Angeles. Near as anyone can tell, there are 1,100 gangs and 120,000 gang members in the county of Los Angeles. It feels like most of them have my cell number.” You tell so many stories in the book, and one of the things that stands out most is the humour. Tell me about the relationship between heartbreak and humour and hope.

GB: You’re supposed to delight in each other. As you began, there’s just horrific news and awful things, and yet you delight in how people are inhabiting their truth and living from their goodness and their love. You can delight in it, you can really laugh. That’s mainly what we do at Homeboy. The homies have an expression where they’ll say, “At Homeboy, we laugh from the stomach.” Which I love, because it doesn’t need a lot of explanation. It’s about [the fact that] there’s nothing superficial, or on the surface. It’s really from the stomach. It’s from the soul, it’s from the deepest part of you. It’s from your entrails, the same place where compassion comes from.

It’s important to keep that place in you — the depth, the soulfulness — alive and well. And laughing is often something that gets you there.

TH: You write in the book, “I learned early on that gang violence was about a lethal absence of hope.” And there are two principles you write that drive your work. One is that “everyone is unshakably good, no exceptions.” And two, “we belong to each other, no exceptions.” These are values, beliefs, principles that are such a relief to read in these times. Can you unpack that for us?

GB: I’m glad you think that. Because a lot of times people feel it’s naive, or people can scoff. Then they’ll point and they’ll say, “Oh yeah, everybody is unshakably good? Well, what about him?” You go, “Yeah, well, he’s unshakably good. But for a lot of complex reasons, he’s unable to access [it]. His ability to access his goodness has been compromised.” That’s a healthier way to see it than demonizing and saying, “He’s evil. He’s depraved. He’s deranged.” And let me just apologize, since you’re in Canada. Let me apologize for my country. Because I think we’re trying to walk each other home to health. And so, I look at all the horrific things that have just happened recently — from Bondi Beach to Brown University to the deaths of Rob and Michelle Reiner — and the list goes on.

Vivek Murthy, who was the surgeon general here in the United States, said that mental health is the defining health issue of our time. I think it’s true. I don’t think that stigmatizes people with mental illness. Quite the contrary, it leads us to a place of great compassion. Because nobody chooses to be a psychotic or a sociopath. And so, how do we help people lift their boat so they don’t take in water? How do we help people recognize their goodness, when access to that goodness is compromised by their mental health?

Otherwise, we just say, “This is pure evil.” And I go, “That just means you’re not serious about actually addressing what this is about.” You know, the fact that there are more guns than there are people in the United States of America. Or that mental health is the defining health issue of our time. What would happen if we actually addressed those things? But what keeps us is we really do think that not everybody is good, and we really do think that there are some people who don’t belong. That is why we don’t make progress. It’s exactly why we don’t make progress. But things would open up if we just began there. Those are the two things that enable us to roll up our sleeves and to really address what we need to.

TH: You made me think of something when I was reading the book. There is this emphasis on curiosity in the book, and what you describe as a willingness to get underneath things. The journalist and conflict expert Amanda Ripley refers to this as “the understory.” You write that “if we could see the secret history of each person, it would surely disarm our hearts.” I think the best journalism is able to do that. How do you get there with people, Father Greg?

GB: I think we’re human beings, so we’re inclined to be judgmental all the time. The only antidote to that is to be able to lean in and to be curious. The homies here talk about finding the thorn underneath. It’s their way of not overreacting to behaviour, bad behaviour. Because what does behaviour have to do with goodness anyway? Nothing. You’re still unshakably good. So, what language is this behaviour speaking? Be curious about it. Find the thorn underneath. Then, you can address what it is, and then you can help soothe people who are unaccustomed to being soothed.

They come into our program barricaded behind a wall of shame and disgrace, and the only thing that can scale that wall is tenderness. So, how do we go against our inclination to be judgmental and to say “off with their heads”? And “this behaviour is unacceptable here.” Which is only about ... It’s only self-congratulatory. It doesn’t really help anybody.

So, you want to move beyond the mind that you have. Which is the original language of the word repent. You want to get to a place where you say, “Oh, I see what this is. His mom is dying of pancreatic cancer and he’s just beside himself. And somebody pushed a button and he was taken to that place and things got violent. How do we help this guy?” The homies have taught me that. Because you want to be indignant and you want to shake your fist and you want to point things out. But if you’re living from a loving place, you don’t want to point things out, you want to point the way. You want to say, “How do we shorten the darkness in which we find ourselves currently? Here’s how we do it, enjoying and delighting. Standing in awe at what the poor have to carry rather than in judgment.” Then you’re on your way, and then you can actually address things and find solutions.

TH: You mentioned the Surgeon General and the loneliness epidemic. I wanted to spend a moment on that. That is a huge problem in Canada, and especially for our young men. You write in the book that the most challenging moment in the intake process at Homeboy Industries is when your staff asks for an emergency contact — that many of the men are undone by that question. That hit me really hard. There was a period of life when I was living in a different city than my family. I was single and childless, and that question always gutted me. So, I think we are all in this together. Today, Christmas Day, some people will be feeling lonely. What do we say to those who are feeling shut out of belonging?

GB: Well, I think we have to understand the loneliness in the context of the current moment in which we live, which has so many exacerbating elements. So, COVID, social media — all these things that are isolating in themselves. It’s hard to recoup.

That is different. I’m 71 years old, so that’s different from anything I knew at 25 or anything I observed at 35. There’s something qualitatively different. So, I think we need to have a high degree of reverence for how complex this is. There is no single solution except to change our mindset on how we see. Naming things correctly, and we have to really call stuff out. We have to say, “No, you’re not naming anything correctly when you say that. You’re just demonizing the other.” And so, you have to be dedicated to the truth. In this country, there is no migrant crisis or invasion.
There is no migrant crime epidemic. That’s just not true. And it’s important to call those things out because the truth gets sacrificed in all this.

We just need to be more attentive to bringing people into community. Because the antidote to addiction is community and connection. The antidote to the loneliness, obviously, is community and connection. And so, we have to be well wishers. We have to be wishing people well all the time, and inviting them into inclusion. So, you stay anchored in the things that matter, the things you want to take seriously, like inclusion and nonviolence and unconditional loving kindness and compassionate acceptance. These are all things that will enhance our chances of flourishing and thriving. That’s the antidote. That’s the thing that makes our divisions tremble — a community of cherished belonging and of kinship.

TH: You write in the book about this community of cherished belonging being “God’s dream come true.” I would like to ask you to tell us a story from the book. It begins with 80 uniformed LAPD officers in the lobby of Homeboy Industries, waiting for training and coexisting a little uncomfortably with the gang members there that are waiting for services. Can you tell us what happened next?

GB: That is not a story I have ever told, except to write about it. But yeah, they were there for a very rare thing, which happened occasionally, where some enlightened officer would bring the new recruits. They are in their uniforms, full LAPD uniforms. They come up and they were going to go to the second floor to our classroom and have homies talk to them about Homeboy Industries. They are standing there very uncomfortably. Our whole reception area is filled with gang members.

All of a sudden, one of the gang members sitting down waiting to get services points at one of the officers, and the officer points at him. They don’t say anything. The gang member gets up and he starts to walk to the officer and everybody is filled with this tension like, “What is this?” When they get up to each other, they say each other’s name and they hug each other. They cry and it takes them a long time to let go. They were childhood friends. They were best buddies growing up and had lost contact. One is a police officer now, and another one has finally returned to the community from prison. It was a thrilling moment of kinship and connection and people moving beyond the mind they have — including all the observers sitting in that waiting room. It was very moving.

TH: I love that story. Father, we are recording this during Advent season. Advent, you write, is about waking up. This will air on Christmas Day. Reading that passage in your book, I thought about the moment in mass when we turn to our neighbours and give the sign of the peace. I was not raised religious and the first time I went to mass, I cried at this moment. Because here are all these people around me, people who may have been on the street with me, and I hadn’t noticed them. And then, you look up and there is this feeling of connection and humanity. For Christmas Day, can we spend a moment on how we can wake up to each other, how we take that into our daily lives?

GB: Yeah, waking up. Jesus says “wake up” lots of times. It’s not because death is coming, but because life is happening — and it’s happening right here and now. And so, you want to be attentive to it and to the people, especially as you say, who are right there in front of you.

The homies, when they come here, they often say — especially those who have done a lot of time, decades in prison — they say, “We’re used to being watched, but we’re not used to being seen.” If you are attentive to seeing the person right in front of you, it’s exhilarating. And once people know each other’s names, you pull the favour out of people. People feel suddenly favourable.

The Christmas Carol, O Holy Night: “Long lay the world in sin and error pining, till He appeared and the soul felt its worth.” Yeah, it’s a song about Jesus, and yeah, it’s a song about Christmas. But how is it not the job description of every person who owns a pulse? You appear and the soul feels its worth. That’s what we’re supposed to mean for each other as we walk each other home, wishing each other well, walking each other home to wholeness and health and well-being. The goal is relational wholeness in community, and that is God’s dream come true. That’s why Jesus became one of us.

TH: How will you be celebrating Christmas this year?

GB: I’ll be with some of the remnants of my family. I have five sisters and two brothers, and they all have kids. It’s a smaller group [now]. It’s funny, once your parents are gone, and they had been the magnets, and now other families are staying with their families. I always get included in one or the other of my siblings who live near here.

At Homeboy, tomorrow is our last day and we have a huge Christmas party with Santa and everybody. It’s really a beautiful day and everybody brings their kids. But we have two weeks off, and so we always have Back to Homeboy night on December 29. We have pizza and movies, and people play board games, and hundreds of homies come with their kids. Because it’s like they need their fix. It’s hard to be gone from Homeboy when Homeboy is more home than home. We recognized that years ago. So, we’ll always have a little break from our break during the season.