Perhaps you have met me on campus. Or, perhaps you have no idea who I am. If you have met me, you may think you know me: Michael Dickel, Director of the Macalester Academic Excellence Center (MAX). Or perhaps you know me as Interim Staff Coordinator of the Council of Multicultural Affairs (CMA). Perhaps you know me yet another way: College Writing Teacher and Writing Counselor. Maybe, although less likely, you know me as Michael Dickel, poet.

While these four activities, Director, Coordinator, Teacher, and Poet don't nearly define me as a person, they might seem to point to a career, or vocation. Do they? Well, the director, coordinator, and teacher roles are all in higher education, where I suppose you wouldn't be surprised to find a poet.

Is higher education a vocation? I can't really say. For me, it may be that it is. What is it that connects the things that I do, these "work" activities? What is the motivation that joins this particular individual to these activities? What makes it vocation, and not just another job?

I'm not sure that I can give a pat answer to that, or that any of us should give a pat answer as a description for any component of our lives. There are some parts to my answer based in principles of Torah, or the Five Books of Moses, and Jewish tradition. And there are some parts to my answer that are idiosyncratic, having to do with the unique and strange path of my own life. For this column, I will explore those connected to my (Reform) Jewish faith.

Three components of my Jewish faith focus my life's vocation (something larger than the four activities related to higher education already mentioned): tikun olam (Healing of the World), tzedakah (Justice), and gemilut chasadim (Caring Presence).

As Rabbi Barry Cytron reminded readers in last Sunday's Star Tribune, Torah admonishes us no fewer than thirty-six times to treat others (literally "strangers") well, for we, as Jews, were enslaved in Egypt because we were Other. Most of those times, Torah says something like "do not oppress the stranger."

Whether or not one chooses to take Exodus literally, the symbolic relevance of its story of deliverance conveys tremendous power and moral responsibility. In light of the redemption from Egypt depicted in Exodus, the significant repetition to treat Others well reminds us to work for a just world, one free of oppression. This work is carried out through tikun olam, tzedakah, and gemilut chasadim.

It is said that Creation began when God shattered a perfect vessel of light to make the world that we know. Every element within creation contains at least a tiny glimmer of that first, perfect light. The work of the created, then, is to bring these pieces of light together again. This work is tikun olam, the healing of the world.

As a teacher of writing, I want my students to recognize that shimmer within themselves and to let it spark their intellect. I hope that my students will also learn to find a sparkle in the writing of others. As a poet, I explore the intersections of light and shadow, ideal creation and imperfect reality, as those intersections grind and polish words into mirrors and prisms.

Tikun olam can lead to seeing each other as fully human, for each of us contains some of that fire from creation. This is a motivation for me to work with multicultural affairs. I hope that Macalester will develop into a community where each of us can recognize the star-fire of creation within the others we encounter. I want to develop this insight myself.

Social justice, tzedakah, arises from this healing work. For certainly it must stab our hearts to see that light dimmed, eclipsed, or extinguished in any one of our fellows. Especially so, if we keep in mind the admonitions from Exodus.

It is not enough to "see the light." My tradition calls for action, too. At the very least, to treat others well, to refrain from oppressing them. And this action requires our caring presence with others, gemilut chasadim. It is this caring presence that I hope infuses the MAX Center, my teaching, and my writing.

All that I do as vocation—Director of the MAX Center, Interim Staff Coordinator of the CMA, College Writing Teacher and Counselor, and Poet—arises from these four principles. I hope that my whole life centers on them.