I am pleased to announce that Father Geoffrey Fecht, O.S.B., will become the director of the Saint John’s Abbey Benedictine Volunteer Corps (BVC) on 1 January 2025. The delight I have felt as director for the past twenty-one years is a result of my association with the more than 350 young men who have served as volunteers in twenty-six Benedictine monasteries around the world. Observing them grow in independence, resilience, maturity, and cultural awareness—while knowing of their service to the Church, to our brother and sister monasteries, and to people around the world—has been a joy and privilege. The strength and success of the Benedictine Volunteer Corps are in marked contrast to other national and international volunteer programs today—many of which are suffering and even closing. Our applicant pool remains steady; our finances are sturdy; the monasteries we serve are grateful for our presence. As they serve, our Benedictine Volunteers are having life-changing experiences. What accounts for this remarkable success? Safety. In the past twenty-three years, no Benedictine Volunteer has been involved in a life-threatening incident. If you need a reason to believe that God exists, that’s it! To be sure, we have endured sickness, mishaps, emotional distress, boundary violations, and disease, but all have been overcome and, in fact, have contributed to the strength and resilience of our volunteers. Because they live in Benedictine monasteries and are, thus, in relatively safe environments, our safety record is strong. Several times each week the monks of Saint John’s Abbey pray for “the safety and success of our Benedictine Volunteers serving around the world” and, by the grace of God, we have enjoyed a significant track record of safety. Spiritual development. Within the BVC program, there is an expectation of prayer for each of the participants. These Johnnie grads come to us at differing points on the path of their faith development—including nonbelievers. All volunteers are expected to pray with the monks of the host community—regardless of the intensity of each volunteer’s spirituality. All are expected to participate in the first prayer service of the community each day (to get them out of bed) and at least one other of the community’s prayer services. Being Catholic is not an expectation, but exploring one’s faith by participation in prayer is. Indeed, it is through the Benedictine Volunteers’ daily association with people of faith that their own spiritual life is strengthened. Independence. We place a high priority on the independence of each volunteer, the independence of the work at each site, and honoring the norms of the host monastery. Each Benedictine Volunteer will have his own unique experience during his year of service. We do not attempt to make the BVC year the same in each place nor do we attempt to make the next pair of volunteers do the same things as the previous volunteers. The BVC program is committed to honoring individuality while avoiding both overly protective “helicoptering” and cookie-cutter efforts. This nurturing of independence also contributes to safety because each volunteer knows that his individuality is being respected; he is responsible for his own wellbeing. Local. Only graduates of Saint John’s University are eligible to serve in the Benedictine Volunteer Corps. Since their freshman year in college, a network of faculty residents, faculty and staff, coaches, peers, and work supervisors has been mentoring and supporting the students. By their senior year, twenty to thirty emerge as potential Benedictine Volunteers—ethical, dependable individuals with strong leadership skills, eager to be of service to others. The close bonds that we build with our undergraduates have assured us quality applicants for the program. Moreover, because Benedictine Volunteers have grown up in our backyard, our recruitment expenses are modest. (In other volunteer programs, the sponsoring organization must hire a staff and travel to promote, recruit, interview, and supervise the candidates.) Benedictine. The bonds between Saint John’s Abbey and other Benedictine monasteries around the world are strong. Whether serving in a Benedictine community in Rwanda or Italy or India or Guatemala, each volunteer is enveloped by hospitality. The host communities are eager to welcome the volunteers; the volunteers are formed and transformed by their experience of praying, working, and living with the monks of another community. Over the past twenty-three years, dozens of individuals have supported the Benedictine Volunteer Corps with their time, counsel, energy, and financial support, thus assuring its success. Thank you all! And thanks, as well to the monks of Saint John’s Abbey for their unfailing support.

“So at this point in the year, I’ve been teaching English full-time to my students for about 4 months. I’ve been having these doubts about what kind of impact I’m having. Maybe they’ve learned a couple new vocab words or grammar concepts, but so what?”

Jack Doyle (SJU '23) had always thought that, “I'm going to fall ass-backwards into something that I really care about.” But having an offer for a Data Analyst position with decent pay and opportunities to grow his career just didn’t cut it.

“For me, BVC was an easy Y-E-S.” Jack was assigned to a year of service in Humacao, Puerto Rico. He'd figure out the rest of his life later.

Two weeks before his arrival, the high school principal emailed, asking if he could "help teach" in the English department. Doyle, not knowing what he was in for, agreed.

When he showed up, reality hit hard.

“It was my first week in Puerto Rico. I remember asking the principal why I had a roster of 105 kids. She looked at me kind of funny and said, ‘These are your students for the year!’”

Thrown into a full-time teaching position with no prior experience or training, Jack was overwhelmed. The workload was massive, and every night he found himself obsessing over lesson plans.

“It was a really challenging start for me,” Jack admitted. “I had never done anything like this before. All I could think about during the evenings was how to make my lessons better.”

By November 2023, Jack had grown as a teacher. His lessons were organized and he felt more confident leading a classroom, but doubts still lingered. That’s when Carolina, one of his students, stayed after class one day.

“I got in…I wanted to tell you first because you're the one person in my life who’s really believed in me. I actually did it,” she said.

Carolina had just been accepted into the Yale’s Young Global Scholars program, a huge achievement for her, and she credited Jack’s support as the reason why.

“At that moment, all my insecurities and doubts around teaching vanished. I knew that this was what I wanted to do.”

Around Christmas, former Benedictine Volunteer Alec Torigian (2010-2011) reached out to current volunteers advertising the University of Notre Dame’s Alliance for Catholic Education (ACE), a two-year Master’s in Education program with graduate coursework during the summer and full-time teaching in under-resourced high schools during the school year.

Inspired, Jack quickly applied and was accepted.

In April 2024, nearing the end of the school year, Doyle felt grateful… “Teaching is a process-based job; there's no make-it or break-it moment. Progress is made in the daily grind.”

“Before I came here, I had never even considered teaching.” Now, he realizes teaching is his calling. “Whether I’m tired or in a sour mood, I’m always excited to teach.”

One week after completing his year of service, Jack flew to Notre Dame to start classes. Now, he is wrapping up his first semester teaching 11th grade Integrated Math at Cristo Rey Philadelphia High School in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

He is joined there by fellow BVC alumnus Tyler Johnson and three other members of the ACE program.

“I never had a path to ACE without the BVC. My advice to future volunteers is to remain open. You just might fall ass-backwards into something that you love.”

Jack Doyle interviewed by Sam Rengo and Jacob Lipke

The Nairobi Experience is more than just a trip—it’s a deep dive into the heart of Kenya’s vibrant culture, resilient communities, and the transformative work of the Benedictine Volunteer Corps. In the beginning of the new year, the BVC office invites all current volunteers to fly into Nairobi and experience life as Kenyans do. From the bustling streets of Nairobi to the serene hills of Nunguni and the humbling realities of the Mathare slums, this ten-day journey invites current Benedictine Volunteers to connect, learn, and grow in ways that words can barely capture. Jake Kutina’s reflections offer a glimpse into this life-changing experience—one of immersion, connection, and the shared humanity that binds us all.

The trip to Kenya put on by the Benedictine Volunteer Corps, called The Nairobi Experience, is one I will not soon forget. The level of immersion, connection, and wisdom we experienced cannot be fully relayed through text or an anecdote to a friend. I think that’s the beauty of it. I heard about this trip last year. I was around campus when the guys were looking for flights, planning the trip, and eventually taking off. I was excited for my friends (a little envious too). “I want to go to Kenya!” I thought. I knew my time would come, God willing. A year later, as the end of the year was approaching, rumblings of ‘The Nairobi Experience’ came about. I knew I was in. No matter how many PTO days I needed to take, or family time I needed to sacrifice, I was making it happen. I recognized the rarity of a trip like this. And I had seen the effect it had on my peers who went the year prior. Furthering that sentiment, it became apparent to me the overwhelming positive impact a year in Africa had on my fellow BVC mates. Hearing stories, bearing witness to their calm demeanor — it was apparent something changed. Br. Paul always talks about how “something happens” to a BVC volunteer while they are away serving. You can’t quite put your finger on it but something happens. The Nairobi Experience was the perfect opportunity to taste some of what makes Africa, and Kenya, such a prolific place.

It was a three-legged trip. The first leg included time in the city of Nairobi. We stayed at the guest house (Amani Center) at St. Benedict Catholic Parish, Ruaraka off of one of the busiest highways in Nairobi: Thika Road. You walk out the gate of the monastery and within 5 feet there is an elderly lady selling peanuts. You look further down the road and you’ll see about 7 other vendors selling anything from backpacks to mangos. This is Nairobi. About 30 yards down the road is Thika. Running perpendicular, Thika Road is filled with Mutatu buses, Boda motorcycles, walkers, bikers, school children, you name it. It’s a bit of an inlet. So it’s a main road but separated from the madness of the highway. The focus during the first leg was to explore and get acclimated to the city. Going to the national museum, bantering with the locals, hiking through the Karuru Forest (a forest in the middle of the city? Crazy), bartering with street vendors. You know, the famous saying: “Do as the Nairobians do.” This part of the trip was a perfect introduction to the life of the volunteers away from their work sites. Unlike many other BVC sites, the work is away from the monastery grounds. The Nairobi volunteers showed us a few of their favorite running routes, places to work out, and establishments to go out for a bite to eat and drink. One of the coolest parts of this specific part of the trip was meeting they friends they’ve made since calling Nairobi home. What are the chances you’ll see someone you know while walking down the street in a random part of a city that 6 million people call home? I would’ve thought slim to none. But not in Nairobi. On multiple occasions, we were walking as a group and all of a sudden a Nairobi BVC volunteer was greeting a friend. The loving energy of the city and Kenya at large is real.

You will not meet any people as warm and kind to strangers as Kenyans. Normally when you meet someone you can exchange a handshake, a name, even a smile if they’re nice. But the game is different in Kenya. It’s not in question if a Kenyan is pleased to meet you because they will show you with their eyes. They place value in the mundane interactions with each other and outsiders. It’s a commitment to welcome visitors and treat everyone with respect. This was one part of the trip that gave me the most joy. To meet new people, shake hands, take in the undeniable fire for life each person had. It’s contagious. I found myself absolutely giddy to smile and give the universal sign for “all good!?” 👍

The second leg was time out in the village of Nunguni. About 2 hours outside of the city, Nunguni was where we met Peter Kimeu, the father of James Kimeu (SJU ’09 Alum), spent time with his family, and learned about his initiative called Decent Living Institute of Organic Farming. The objective (of DLIOF) being to set up local families with sustainable practices they can use every day to ensure a future of high produce yields and the continuation of education of hope and what good living means. The beautiful hills of Nunguni are filled with every crop under the sun. Banana, avocado, pumpkin, and kale to name a few. Terrace farming is the strategy of choice — making the most of the plot of land they own. We hiked through the hills, met locals who are helping create a consistent water supply, and best of all visited some folk’s homes. This was true immersion. We split into 2’s, each group assigned a family to visit and questions we had to make sure to ask. This experience was heartwarming to say the least. Logan Braaten (who is a volunteer in Rwanda) and I visited some of Peter’s neighbors. Peter keeps in touch with them frequently as they only live 5 minutes away by foot, and he employs their uncle to work around the house and cook food for guests when they have them. I met the leader of the household which is the mother, her two kids, and their 5 cousins. The 7 kids are all in school. 6 of them in primary. 1 of them in secondary. Boniface is the name of the one in secondary, and Peter asked him to be a mediator to mend the potential language barrier. This family showed us the shelter they slept under, the crops they were growing, their livestock roaming around, and their favorite places to play in the hills. They shared with us their main challenges — which always led back to the weather not behaving. All in all it was a special day and a perfect way to wrap up our time in the village. To see the smiles on their faces — especially the kids inspired me like no other. They were completely enamored by my watch. Or even more simply by the hair on my arms. They all wanted to hold my hand, throw acorns back & forth, and show me where their secret passionfruit was growing. It was something I will never forget. The very last thing we did in the village was play their local soccer team in the heart of the town. The two teams ran through the heart of the town before the game started. It was an opportunity to meet some of the players from the opposing team before we started the friendly and wave to local shop owners as we paraded through. It was a dirt patch on top of a hill. No shade. No grass. No fences. No problem. We got our butts whooped in front of about 60 locals. It was remarkable to be a part of a special day for the village of Nunguni and Wakueni county at large.

The third leg was back in the city, with the focus being spending time in and around the slums, interacting with the street kids. This was the most eye-opening, heartbreaking (& heartwarming at the same time), unique part of the trip. A huge part of the work the BVC volunteers do in Nairobi involves the street kids. These are the kids that live in the slums of Nairobi. We were escorted by Alfajiri workers through the Methare slum. The sheer size of the slum is astonishing. Both the area it covers and the amount of people living there. Mlango Kubwa was the sector we walked through. At the time of visit, Mlango Kubwa had the same travel advisory threat level as Israel. That puts it into perspective. The pungent smell of plastic burning, trash stacked up as tall as me, commotion everywhere, people working, music blaring, kids playing. The amount of stimulation in the slum was overbearing. The darkside of the slum is bad living conditions, poor water supply, poor air quality, crime, and most apparent of all: addiction. Mostly men, but also including children that seemed to be as young as 10 years old, were addicted to jet fuel or shoe glue. They have it in plastic water bottles or bags, then they dip a towel and stick it in their mouth. Huffing the day away. Huffing hunger away. Huffing coldness away. They are like zombies in a movie. You notice it from a mile away. Lights on, no one’s home. In their own little world, stumbling around, mumbling noises. This is the sad nature of the slum. The endless cycle that a lot of the people living there deal with. “What do you say when a kid tells you he needs to huff jet fuel at night because it’s too cold to sleep otherwise?” I asked Jacob Lipke, a BVC Nairobi volunteer. “Nothing,” he replied. “You just have to listen.” This was numbing.

A consistent on the other side of the spectrum was the happiness shown by the children. Raw. Unfiltered. Not yet corrupted by the unfairness of life. The consistent was the excitement and smiles on the children’s faces as we walked through. Maybe because they weren’t yet old enough to be high on jet fuel or shoe glue. Maybe it was their first time seeing a white person. Either way, amid total hell on earth, these little beacons of light were at our side, at our feet — just wanting to be a part of whatever we were doing. This was refreshing. The end of our trip was quality time at Alfajiri with the street kids. A couple times a week, they hop on a Mutatu to go have some time away from the slum. We painted with them, learned their names (as they learned ours), did karate, danced, and sang. Really just spent time being kids. It was a heartwarming day that never should’ve ended. You could see how smart each kid was in their own way. And the heartbreaking thing was knowing the life they would return to when they went back to their base. That’s what they call it. Not their homes, but their base. I thoroughly enjoyed getting to know as many of the kids as possible. Hearing stories about the kids, good and bad, from the Alfajiri workers was a privilege. The small interactions gave me hope. The leader of Alfajiri, Lenoir put it best: “Success is sharing a moment of love with the kids. Letting them know they are heard. Letting them know they mean something.” This is what gave me a sense of hope. I committed to being fully present, not wishing our time together away, not looking forward to what was next on the itinerary. Committing to sharing love. And receiving it back. That was special.

I’ve noticed through my brief experience traveling that there are often sacrifices needed to be made if you want to have a top notch travel experience. Full immersion? You’re probably not going to drag a group of 15 men with you. Too much baggage. Too many liabilities. Want to travel with a big group? Okay, that is fine, you better be willing to sacrifice the fullest of immersions into said country/ culture. What made this trip so special was we got the best of both worlds. We immersed fully into each part of Kenya: the city of Nairobi, the village of Nunguni, the slum of Methare. We talked to locals that normal tourists won’t ever meet. We walked amongst the people of the biggest slum in Africa. We were likely the first white people that went to the homes of the village people. And we did it as a group of 15 former, current, and future Benedictine Volunteers. There were many firsts for both sides: the visitors (us) and the hosts (Kenyans). And props to Kenyans at large, we were welcomed with open arms. Even though we live 8,157 miles away, even though we may not look like each other, we were treated as one of their own. And that’s something I truly felt. We were one. We are one.

"I committed to being fully present, not wishing our time together away, not looking forward to what was next on the itinerary. Committing to sharing love. And receiving it back. That was special”

- Jake Kutina

November is graduation season here in Hanga.

Colande Secondary School held their ceremony near the beginning of the month; the trade school celebrated on the 22nd; and Hanga Religious Seminary (the all-boys secondary school) had their festivities on the 28th. For me, though, the biggest graduation of them all was on November 25 at St. Benedict Secondary School.

I’ve been working at St. Benedict since late July, teaching math to 57 Form One students (roughly equivalent to freshmen year of high school in the U.S.) and, since September, four pre-Form One students (recent primary school graduates). Coincidentally, it’s an all-girls institution, reminding me of a certain all-women’s school also named St. Benedict back home.

Graduation day was hands-down the best day I’ve had since my co-volunteer Max Doom and I arrived in Tanzania in late June. The entire event was filled with example after example of what I’ve enjoyed most about Hanga so far, and it knocked every graduation I’ve ever been to in America out of the park.

We began the day with mass in the monastery church, which, in true “African time” fashion, started an hour later than it was scheduled. Church here is much more active than it is in the U.S., and the Form Four graduates danced and sang the whole time while the rest of us clapped and danced a little bit ourselves, too.

After mass, we went over to St. Benedict for the festivities to begin. The nearly-four hour celebration was filled with nonstop entertainment.

Every form prepared a song and dance bidding Form Four farewell, and the graduates had their own time for singing and dancing, too. Some students acted out skits that poked fun at teachers and departing students, imagined life after graduation, and copied a Tanzanian national news channel, complete with a sign language interpreter. There was a fashion show, where more than twenty students dressed up as anything from a doctor who saved a patient at the end of the runway to Miss Tanzania.

As a teacher, I got to participate some, too, as I joined the rest of the staff in carrying the cake to the head table. I danced with everyone else on the way up, much to the delight of my students.

Things calmed down some after a late lunch – or so I thought. I was complimenting a few of my students for their singing during the celebration when one of them asked if they could talk to my mom. They’d been asking for weeks, so I finally caved and gave her a call. The students laughed nonstop as they passed around the phone and introduced themselves, which was a pretty cool moment connecting people very important to me thousands of miles apart.

The students then asked me to take some pictures with them, which turned into a long time spent in front of a camera as students from all the forms asked for pictures. I think I’m smiling wider than I ever have in my life in the picture of me with many of my Form One and pre-Form One students. In between pictures, I got to spend some precious time out of class with the students, continuing to see more of their personalities and joy from the events of the day.

The evening wrapped up for me with a teachers’ party that went into the night, a fantastic conclusion to the day with a group of people who have welcomed and helped me since my first day at the school.

The first five months of my year of service has been far from perfect. I’ve been lonely and at times felt more homesick than I ever have in my life. I’ve been upset time and again by the nonstop thievery of anything desirable that’s not carefully locked away. I’ve questioned whether I’m hurting more than helping when students fail exams or look at me blankly, not understanding something I’ve said.

But days like this make it all worth it. It makes the constant need for more patience, the hours of learning needed to switch from teaching in English to teaching in Swahili, the infallibly reliable stares from everyone as I walk by – worth it.

I’ve had an incredible group of people supporting me the whole time, including Max, the monks who check in on us and invite us to seemingly every possible celebration, my fellow teachers, other volunteers here in Hanga, other friends I’ve made here, and, most importantly, my students, who have stuck with me from my first, very unprepared class (I got told about it ten minutes before it started) through their much more successful final exams.

The guest master in the abbey has been teaching me different Swahili expressions at dinner lately, and I think one, in particular, is a perfect way to sum up the impact these people have had on me so far: Wema hauozi – Kindness never goes bad.

P.S. On the last day of regular classes, one of my students asked if I would take Form One to America with me to visit when I return. I told them that I would love nothing more, if only I had the money. So, if anyone out there would like to fly out sixty hardworking students out for a trip to America, I think it’d be the coolest thing ever – just putting that out there.