What breaks my heart, disgusts, and upsets me more than anything else concerning HIV/AIDS is the religious and social stigma that accompanies the disease. A guy by the name of Doug Fountain was on the verge of tears as he told our group the story of Mary; a UCU student that died of AIDS a couple of years back. Doug was giving our group a presentation on HIV/AIDS and claimed she would probably still be alive if she hadn’t been ashamed to get treatment. Mary kept her condition a secret, for fear she would be shunned by the Church, and died.
As if having a deadly disease isn’t bad enough the Church often adds shame, and ostracism. It may be very easy to cast judgment on the church in Africa and say it’s wrong and evil that they would ever ostracize anyone with a deadly disease. But we do the same exact thing. The issue may not be AIDS that you feel as though you need to hide or be ashamed of, but the issue sure is sex, or pornography, or cutting. Or maybe I'm the only one with real issues. The one thing we can learn from Mary is that secrets kill, you may not physically die, but emotionally and spiritually, secrets will eventually kill you.
How does the religion that kills people like Mary also claim to simultaneously follow Jesus? Jesus forgave and redeemed the humanity of the most shameful sinners of his society. He was scandalously popular among “women of the night”, tax collectors, lepers, Samaritans and other social outcasts. How does the Church claim to follow in the footsteps of Jesus when there are students dying due to shame at our universities? Or when there are Christians secretly struggling with drug addiction, pornography, and eating disorders; hiding in church pews across America? We surely cannot claim to follow Christ.
Jesus constantly challenged pharisaic religiosity with audacity and chutzpah. He relentlessly opposed religion that heaped on guilt, shame, condemnation, or secrecy. I believe that Jesus didn’t tolerate that kind of religion because it breeds pride and ultimately kills people; literally in Mary’s case. In the face of strict legalism, Jesus invited his followers to take upon them his yoke, which was light and his burden, which was easy. In translating The Message, Eugene Peterson paraphrases this portion of Scripture:
“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill fitting on you. Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly.”
I would be willing to bet Mary’s life that she was “burned out on religion” which Jesus would have set her free from had He had the chance. It’s very unfortunate that his Bride couldn’t afford Him that opportunity. But maybe Jesus’ offer isn’t intended for those with HIV/AIDS.
In one of Jesus’ last teachings before being crucified he condemns the Pharisees and teachers of the Law to hell because of their dead religious legalism. He knows that their religious system won’t save them and warns the people, “They tie up heavy loads and put them on men's shoulders, but they themselves are not willing to lift a finger to move them.” Jesus continues,
"Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You shut the kingdom of heaven in men's faces. You yourselves do not enter, nor will you let those enter who are trying to… Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You travel over land and sea to win a single convert, and when he becomes one, you make him twice as much a son of hell as you are.”
The difference between the religion of the Pharisees and that of Jesus is the freedom that following Jesus produces. Freedom, that comes from the ability to be open and honest without fear of judgment and condemnation; the freedom to respond to grace. Jesus never condones sin, but neither does He condemn sinners, He convicts, forgives and sets free. Why is it so hard for the Church to do that as well? It is as if Christians are afraid that if we start loving sinners we have somehow compromised our moral convictions. It is as if Christians think offering sinners grace isn’t fair. For some reason, I think Jesus’ forgiveness and grace makes people uncomfortable because it’s not fair. As if it’s too good to be true.
John 8 provides a powerful illustration of how I believe Christians are supposed to deal with HIV/AIDS, and any other issues the Church deems taboo. Religious leaders bring Jesus a woman that has been caught in adultery, and deserves to be stoned. Jesus says the person who is without sin should cast the first stone. Then Jesus says something that I believe is profound, “neither do I condemn you,” Jesus declared. “Go now and leave your life of sin.” Jesus does what the Church finds so difficult. Challenge people to change without the unnecessary condemnation. Jesus doesn’t ignore the woman’s sinful lifestyle, but He doesn’t condemn her either. Hopefully sooner than later people will begin to flock to Christian environments because of the love and acceptance they feel. Hopefully sooner than later Christians will start loving people like Jesus.
The Church worldwide is constantly tempted to fall into the trap of legalism and religion. Hopefully we can grasp hold of grace in time to care for a broken and dying world. Maybe in the process Christ will heal a broken and HIV positive Church as well.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Tow Quotes and Countless More Questions.
"There are years that ask questions and years that answer."-Zora Neale HurstonDuring the past two or so years I've been confronted with more of the world than I could have ever expected. I've visited Rwanda and learned about a genocide first hand and asked God how are humans are even capable of such large scale murder. I've walked through red light districts in Thailand. And asked God is there even hope for a world where a "Disneyland for pedophiles" exists. I've heard firsthand stories of HIV/AIDS victims and asked God why He doesn't choose to heal more often. I've lived in Uganda for the past three months and I'm asking God how can I even begin to address the social issues of my time. I'm asking what it means to really follow Christ in such a broken world. I have so many questions. About my calling. About my identity. About the world we dwell and the gospel we proclaim. And for the first time I'm content with having no answers. All the questions in my soul have produced a tension that only produces more question. I never want to stop wrestling with the questions of this life, of this generation. My only hope is that in wrestling and grappling with the questions of my heart Christ becomes an ever more relevant answer. My other hope is that He causes my life to be some sort of answer as well."...I would like to beg you dear Sir, as well as I can, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer."- Rainer Maria Rilke (1903) in Letters to a Young Poet
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Monday, November 16, 2009
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Funny Stories from the Journey...
Two weeks ago I embarked on my “rural home stay”, meaning I spent 10 days in the bush/village completely disconnected with society… maybe that’s an exaggeration. I learned lots of “life changing” lessons… but you’ll have to wait for that. For now let’s just laugh…
The first night I get there I have to poop (I had the runs) so my host dad leads me out to the pit latrine… which is basically a tin shack with a hole in the floor… a step down from a squatty potty although there is still lots of squatting involved. So, I thought I had positioned my anal sphincter directly over the hole so I would poop right in, nice and neat… NO SIR. My diarrhea was a bit more explosive than I had originally anticipated and I pooped all over the floor of the pit latrine. I finally cleaned everything up and open the door to find out that my host dad had been waiting for me the entire time I was in the pit latrine, meaning he heard everything… and trust me there was a lot to hear because it was the loudest poop of my life.
Later that night I had to vomit but couldn’t make it outside fast enough because I couldn’t see anything (there was no electricity in the whole village…) so I vomited on my family’s floor. Needless to say I felt bad about vomiting on my new family's floor, until I found out that the floor was made out of cow dung and ash… cow poop and ash… I stopped apologizing at that point. Perspective changes everything.
My last night in the village my family slaughtered a chicken for me. Then they informed me that it’s customary for the guests to eat the gizzards and other chicken organs… I almost gagged in my host mother’s face. Oh, I almost forgot! We were dissecting the chicken and I swear I see an egg. My dad then asks, “You want to eat that egg? If we had let the chicken live one more day it would have laid the egg and we would have had a baby chick.” So by this point I’m still wondering what exactly is going to happen to the baby chick-egg… we sit down to eat dinner and my host mom popped that sucker right in her mouth like it was a hard-boiled egg… she ate a chicken fetus!!! Needless to say I gagged all the way through dinner and nearly vomited again. Oh... I definitely didn’t eat the chicken organs. Do you know me?
Other than that it was great I just had to get those stories out of the way…
Drew and Cameron… if you happen to read the blog post below know that I love you, and God has used to teach a valuable lesson…
The first night I get there I have to poop (I had the runs) so my host dad leads me out to the pit latrine… which is basically a tin shack with a hole in the floor… a step down from a squatty potty although there is still lots of squatting involved. So, I thought I had positioned my anal sphincter directly over the hole so I would poop right in, nice and neat… NO SIR. My diarrhea was a bit more explosive than I had originally anticipated and I pooped all over the floor of the pit latrine. I finally cleaned everything up and open the door to find out that my host dad had been waiting for me the entire time I was in the pit latrine, meaning he heard everything… and trust me there was a lot to hear because it was the loudest poop of my life.
Later that night I had to vomit but couldn’t make it outside fast enough because I couldn’t see anything (there was no electricity in the whole village…) so I vomited on my family’s floor. Needless to say I felt bad about vomiting on my new family's floor, until I found out that the floor was made out of cow dung and ash… cow poop and ash… I stopped apologizing at that point. Perspective changes everything.
My last night in the village my family slaughtered a chicken for me. Then they informed me that it’s customary for the guests to eat the gizzards and other chicken organs… I almost gagged in my host mother’s face. Oh, I almost forgot! We were dissecting the chicken and I swear I see an egg. My dad then asks, “You want to eat that egg? If we had let the chicken live one more day it would have laid the egg and we would have had a baby chick.” So by this point I’m still wondering what exactly is going to happen to the baby chick-egg… we sit down to eat dinner and my host mom popped that sucker right in her mouth like it was a hard-boiled egg… she ate a chicken fetus!!! Needless to say I gagged all the way through dinner and nearly vomited again. Oh... I definitely didn’t eat the chicken organs. Do you know me?
Other than that it was great I just had to get those stories out of the way…
Drew and Cameron… if you happen to read the blog post below know that I love you, and God has used to teach a valuable lesson…
Hard Lesson Learned.
When I found out that I was sharing a room with Cameron and Drew I almost asked if I could switch, but I knew that Seth (one of my trip leaders) would laugh and say no, so I simply chuckled and proceeded to my room. If I had to name two people in USP that I’m the least likely to be friends with it would be Drew and Cameron. In fact, plainly speaking, I just don’t like them. On each of our IMME weekend trips I have literally prayed that I wouldn’t have to share a room with Drew and when Cameron speaks in class I cringe. There’s no explanation for why I don’t like them – I just don’t. We just don’t “click”.
As we arrived at Sipi Falls, Seth gave me my room key and my room assignment and I was certain that God was in heaven laughing at me. I walked to my room and resolved to thinking God had done this to me on purpose. I still believe God was the culprit behind it, only now I couldn’t be more grateful.
If the same scenario had played out just weeks prior I probably would have had an attitude most of the time and simply kept quiet, but the beauty of community that I saw in Kapturwa made it impossible for me to do that. Community in Kapturwa wasn’t a commodity to be chosen based on preference and personality. Community thrived because of an underlying commitment that people had to one another. Unlike many Americans who have the option of “shopping” for churches, friends, spouses, houses and neighborhoods most people in Kapturwa are committed to the communities they live in; there is no exit option that so many Americans take full advantage of. They are tied to the land and to one another in interdependent relationship. There is no choosing who one’s neighbor will be, yet the command to love is obeyed. There is no choice as to what church one will attend since there is only one church in the community I lived yet the command to love is obeyed. There is no choice in the matter of relationship and community yet cords of love bind the people together and they are free. Free to experience true community, true reconciliation, and true relationship.
In Irresistible Revolution, Shane Claiborne says, “I feel sorry that so many of us have settled for a lonely world of independence and riches when we could all experience the fullness of life in community and independence.” So often I confuse freedom with “the lonely world of independence” that Shane talks about, but the truth is that although community requires a sacrifice of certain independence, it’s a lifestyle that Christ sets us free to live, meaning it’s a lifestyle loaded with greater amounts of freedom, not less.
I’ve heard it said that love must be freely chosen. But what if I can’t trust my own judgment? What if, because of my sin nature, I only choose relationships and friendships with selfish motives? In a world where relationships are often reduced to commodities, I have lots to learn from the people of Kapturwa. While at Sipi Falls I learned that Cameron and Drew are great, funny, smart guys, but I would have never known that if it were dependant upon my own choice. I learned that they have interesting life stories, but would have never heard them. I learned that there are more similarities between us than differences, but I would have never discovered that. I would have missed out on encountering people with infinite value.
Typically, when getting to know people, if I find out something about someone or observe a personality flaw that I don’t like or that “turns me off” my natural instinct is to disengage or draw back. Unfortunately it seems as though Jesus’ reaction is the exact opposite. He draws even closer when He observes the negative qualities and flaws in a person. Is this commitment to relationship supposed to be my response as well? As a follower of Christ am I not obliged to display this radical call to commitment and community in my life? Did Christ “invest” into relationships as if they were commodities? Or did He not even love Judas, who stole from the group’s resources and would later betray Jesus? What if relationship, like forgiveness, isn’t a matter of choice for those who follow Christ, but a matter of commitment to one another? When Christ called the disciples to follow him did he not also call them into relationship with one another?
It seems that most people choose friends the same way they choose their wardrobe or the car they will drive – to secure or improve their social status. Most people want to be friends with people who are “cool”, smart, popular, or beautiful. Whether we are in junior High School, College, or checking out a new church, people choose friends to secure their place in the societal totem poles we erect. I’ve probably been guilty of this since grade school, but I believe Christ sets us free from operating in relationship through this dysfunctional means. I believe he calls His followers to radically love one another, to draw closer to one another even when the natural tendency is to disengage, to base our relationships on something more solid that social status, attraction, or mutual interest. Henri Nouwen agrees in his book Compassion, writing that:
“In and through Christ we receive a new identity that enables us to say, ‘I am not the esteem I can collect through competition, but the love I have freely received from God’… Through union with God, we are lifted out of our competitiveness with each other into the divine wholeness. By sharing in the wholeness of the one in whom no competition exists, we can enter into new compassionate relationship with each other.”
I have become convinced that Christ doesn’t set us free to simply choose the coolest Christian friends we can find in order to validate and secure our identity in the world. Christ sets us free and makes community possible through a deep commitment to Him and others. Christ sets us free from measuring others and ourselves by a standard that doesn’t exist. Christ sets us free to love and love freely.
As we arrived at Sipi Falls, Seth gave me my room key and my room assignment and I was certain that God was in heaven laughing at me. I walked to my room and resolved to thinking God had done this to me on purpose. I still believe God was the culprit behind it, only now I couldn’t be more grateful.
If the same scenario had played out just weeks prior I probably would have had an attitude most of the time and simply kept quiet, but the beauty of community that I saw in Kapturwa made it impossible for me to do that. Community in Kapturwa wasn’t a commodity to be chosen based on preference and personality. Community thrived because of an underlying commitment that people had to one another. Unlike many Americans who have the option of “shopping” for churches, friends, spouses, houses and neighborhoods most people in Kapturwa are committed to the communities they live in; there is no exit option that so many Americans take full advantage of. They are tied to the land and to one another in interdependent relationship. There is no choosing who one’s neighbor will be, yet the command to love is obeyed. There is no choice as to what church one will attend since there is only one church in the community I lived yet the command to love is obeyed. There is no choice in the matter of relationship and community yet cords of love bind the people together and they are free. Free to experience true community, true reconciliation, and true relationship.
In Irresistible Revolution, Shane Claiborne says, “I feel sorry that so many of us have settled for a lonely world of independence and riches when we could all experience the fullness of life in community and independence.” So often I confuse freedom with “the lonely world of independence” that Shane talks about, but the truth is that although community requires a sacrifice of certain independence, it’s a lifestyle that Christ sets us free to live, meaning it’s a lifestyle loaded with greater amounts of freedom, not less.
I’ve heard it said that love must be freely chosen. But what if I can’t trust my own judgment? What if, because of my sin nature, I only choose relationships and friendships with selfish motives? In a world where relationships are often reduced to commodities, I have lots to learn from the people of Kapturwa. While at Sipi Falls I learned that Cameron and Drew are great, funny, smart guys, but I would have never known that if it were dependant upon my own choice. I learned that they have interesting life stories, but would have never heard them. I learned that there are more similarities between us than differences, but I would have never discovered that. I would have missed out on encountering people with infinite value.
Typically, when getting to know people, if I find out something about someone or observe a personality flaw that I don’t like or that “turns me off” my natural instinct is to disengage or draw back. Unfortunately it seems as though Jesus’ reaction is the exact opposite. He draws even closer when He observes the negative qualities and flaws in a person. Is this commitment to relationship supposed to be my response as well? As a follower of Christ am I not obliged to display this radical call to commitment and community in my life? Did Christ “invest” into relationships as if they were commodities? Or did He not even love Judas, who stole from the group’s resources and would later betray Jesus? What if relationship, like forgiveness, isn’t a matter of choice for those who follow Christ, but a matter of commitment to one another? When Christ called the disciples to follow him did he not also call them into relationship with one another?
It seems that most people choose friends the same way they choose their wardrobe or the car they will drive – to secure or improve their social status. Most people want to be friends with people who are “cool”, smart, popular, or beautiful. Whether we are in junior High School, College, or checking out a new church, people choose friends to secure their place in the societal totem poles we erect. I’ve probably been guilty of this since grade school, but I believe Christ sets us free from operating in relationship through this dysfunctional means. I believe he calls His followers to radically love one another, to draw closer to one another even when the natural tendency is to disengage, to base our relationships on something more solid that social status, attraction, or mutual interest. Henri Nouwen agrees in his book Compassion, writing that:
“In and through Christ we receive a new identity that enables us to say, ‘I am not the esteem I can collect through competition, but the love I have freely received from God’… Through union with God, we are lifted out of our competitiveness with each other into the divine wholeness. By sharing in the wholeness of the one in whom no competition exists, we can enter into new compassionate relationship with each other.”
I have become convinced that Christ doesn’t set us free to simply choose the coolest Christian friends we can find in order to validate and secure our identity in the world. Christ sets us free and makes community possible through a deep commitment to Him and others. Christ sets us free from measuring others and ourselves by a standard that doesn’t exist. Christ sets us free to love and love freely.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
More Pictures...
My crew... kinda
Me and Ronnie. He's the man.
Of course I videotape EVERYTHING...
Ronnie and Ruthie
Ruthie... I think she's beautiful. You should too.Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Family Matters...
Me, Brian, and Mama Aida....one time I saw Mama's boobs. Africans are pretty lax as far as hiding the boobs goes. I've actually seen lots of boobs while here because everyone breast feeds... in public. I've seen women whip 'em out at church, in traffic, in mid-conversation, at a wedding, generally whenever babies start crying get ready to see some boobies.
For the first two weeks in Uganda we called our little sister Lucy. No one corrected us. We eventually learned that her name is Ruthie... we hang out with her a lot because she's cool. She taught us how to do laundry and sometimes irons our clothes.
My baby brother Ronnie. One time he fell asleep on my chest... it was so cute and I felt like a dad. Then I felt something really warm on my stomach... Ronny had peepeed all over me. My t-shirt, my wife-beater, my shorts and my boxers were all soaked. I realized then that fatherhood could wait I'm very happy that I'm the youngest child.
Arianna is the youngest member of our family. She literally screams at the top of her lungs whenever I touch her, but she shut up long enough to let me get this picture.
I was really excited about the EvangeCube... I don't know why, it's actually pretty lame. I'm not sorry if that offends anyone.I do this a lot. Thinking and reading takes up a huge chunk of my time, which is good for me because I'm normally quite dumb and in a rush.
Monday, October 12, 2009
This Is The Thing about Presence
The only reason I believed Father Gerald is because he’s a priest, and for some odd reason I feel like priests don’t lie. I could be wrong and I probably am; there must be priests that lie but I don’t believe Father Gerald is one of them plus his stories seemed too bad to be made up.
We were on a weekend trip to Luweero (a rural village town in Uganda), having tea with Father Gerald as he explained what his ministry involved. He told us about a time he found a woman waiting by the side of the road holding twins in her arms. Both of her babies were sick with malaria and she had been waiting for hours by the roadside hoping that someone would give her a ride to the hospital, so Father Gerald gave her a ride. By the time they arrived at the hospital both babies were dead. Father Gerald gave her a ride back home.
He told us about a young girl named Joy that was very fond of him. I don’t blame her; I had only known Father Gerald for fifteen minutes and I was fond of him – his gentle young voice made his tall strong frame inviting and comforting. (We had lost electricity so maybe the candles helped as well.) Joy had told him before his last trip to the States that she thought she would be dead by the time he returned. He assured her that she would be fine, and she would see him soon. Father Gerald came back to Luweero with a suitcase full of things for Joy only to learn that she had died one day prior to his arrival. He kept one of the stuffed animals intended for Joy to remember her. He said these things hurt him very much.
“At the parish house we eat meat and we take sugar. And I know my parishioners only eat meat or take sugar maybe one time in a year. They are very, very poor. This is very painful for me,” he explained. We didn’t know where he was going with this string of stories, but then he asked, “What can I do? What is there for me to do for them? The best thing I can offer is my presence and my smile – that’s all I can give,” Father Gerald explained as he offered us his smile.
A month or so ago I wouldn’t have been able to appreciate Father Gerald’s offer, because I didn’t understand the value of presence. In The Primal Vision John Taylor explains that, “our presence to one another, eye to eye and face to face, dispels the isolation and lifts our hearts. Africans believe that presence is the dept they owe to one another. The primal vision is of a world of presences, of face-to-face meetings… It is a universe of I and Thou.”
John Taylor and Father Gerald both understand something about presence that neither I, nor many in the “West” have fully taken hold of. Why is presence the dept we owe to one another? How can the other be ‘Thou’? The primal/African view of presence acknowledges the mystical and divine within each of us and restores and elevates the value of our humanity. To Father Gerald, the poor people of Luweero have names and faces and in offering his presence to them he acknowledges and uplifts the divine within them – the image of God. And he offers the presence of the Holy Spirit that dwells in him. It truly is the best thing he can offer.
In the ‘West’ we have not mastered presence, the art of simply being present with people, acknowledging the divine spark in one another. The true and complete nature of our humanity cries out to be acknowledged in known in a culture that reduces people to bodies or a means to an end. What the African worldview asserts is that the presence that dwells among us and in us is the “tremendous Presence in the midst of the world from which our first parent hid themselves… the Presence which Moses knew, eye to eye and face to face… the way of presence is not merely a new missionary method, but God’s own way of drawing Adam into his embrace and lifting the despoiled and threatened Creation up into his peace.” With this understanding of the Divine presence it is no mystery, yet still mysterious, that history moves to a climax with a God choosing to “dwell among us.” It is no mystery, yet still mysterious, that when we gather in His name, He is present. It is no mystery, yet still mysterious, that whatever we do for the “least of these” we do unto Him since He is present. When we become aware of the Presence dwelling within and among us, we too will suddenly offer our presence and a smile, knowing we are taking part in the divine work of redemption.
I was right about Father Gerald, he didn’t lie – the best thing he could offer his community was not money or anything physical but the only divine gift available – his presence; and as a bonus – his smile.
We were on a weekend trip to Luweero (a rural village town in Uganda), having tea with Father Gerald as he explained what his ministry involved. He told us about a time he found a woman waiting by the side of the road holding twins in her arms. Both of her babies were sick with malaria and she had been waiting for hours by the roadside hoping that someone would give her a ride to the hospital, so Father Gerald gave her a ride. By the time they arrived at the hospital both babies were dead. Father Gerald gave her a ride back home.
He told us about a young girl named Joy that was very fond of him. I don’t blame her; I had only known Father Gerald for fifteen minutes and I was fond of him – his gentle young voice made his tall strong frame inviting and comforting. (We had lost electricity so maybe the candles helped as well.) Joy had told him before his last trip to the States that she thought she would be dead by the time he returned. He assured her that she would be fine, and she would see him soon. Father Gerald came back to Luweero with a suitcase full of things for Joy only to learn that she had died one day prior to his arrival. He kept one of the stuffed animals intended for Joy to remember her. He said these things hurt him very much.
“At the parish house we eat meat and we take sugar. And I know my parishioners only eat meat or take sugar maybe one time in a year. They are very, very poor. This is very painful for me,” he explained. We didn’t know where he was going with this string of stories, but then he asked, “What can I do? What is there for me to do for them? The best thing I can offer is my presence and my smile – that’s all I can give,” Father Gerald explained as he offered us his smile.
A month or so ago I wouldn’t have been able to appreciate Father Gerald’s offer, because I didn’t understand the value of presence. In The Primal Vision John Taylor explains that, “our presence to one another, eye to eye and face to face, dispels the isolation and lifts our hearts. Africans believe that presence is the dept they owe to one another. The primal vision is of a world of presences, of face-to-face meetings… It is a universe of I and Thou.”
John Taylor and Father Gerald both understand something about presence that neither I, nor many in the “West” have fully taken hold of. Why is presence the dept we owe to one another? How can the other be ‘Thou’? The primal/African view of presence acknowledges the mystical and divine within each of us and restores and elevates the value of our humanity. To Father Gerald, the poor people of Luweero have names and faces and in offering his presence to them he acknowledges and uplifts the divine within them – the image of God. And he offers the presence of the Holy Spirit that dwells in him. It truly is the best thing he can offer.
In the ‘West’ we have not mastered presence, the art of simply being present with people, acknowledging the divine spark in one another. The true and complete nature of our humanity cries out to be acknowledged in known in a culture that reduces people to bodies or a means to an end. What the African worldview asserts is that the presence that dwells among us and in us is the “tremendous Presence in the midst of the world from which our first parent hid themselves… the Presence which Moses knew, eye to eye and face to face… the way of presence is not merely a new missionary method, but God’s own way of drawing Adam into his embrace and lifting the despoiled and threatened Creation up into his peace.” With this understanding of the Divine presence it is no mystery, yet still mysterious, that history moves to a climax with a God choosing to “dwell among us.” It is no mystery, yet still mysterious, that when we gather in His name, He is present. It is no mystery, yet still mysterious, that whatever we do for the “least of these” we do unto Him since He is present. When we become aware of the Presence dwelling within and among us, we too will suddenly offer our presence and a smile, knowing we are taking part in the divine work of redemption.
I was right about Father Gerald, he didn’t lie – the best thing he could offer his community was not money or anything physical but the only divine gift available – his presence; and as a bonus – his smile.
The Jump...
For some reason I can't explain I decided to bungee jump... it was fun and I survived. Enjoy!
Monday, September 28, 2009
This Is The Thing About Expectations.
Florence, my 23-year-old “sister”, looked not only shocked but also disappointed as Brian (my roommate) told her Jesus probably wasn’t white and Americans didn’t write the Bible. As she recovered from her mild state of shock, she asked us one more time, I guess to be certain that we understood her question, “Jesus, he didn’t look like you [Brian]?” As far as I recall, I’ve never shared identical emotions with someone for completely different reasons. Florence and I both sat in our dimly lit kitchen – shocked and disappointed.
I noticed the blue eyed fair skinned portrait of Jesus that hung in our sitting room within minutes of arriving at my home stay, but never would I have imagined that my family actually thought the portrait was accurate. I had lots of expectations about Christianity/spirituality in Africa as a whole. I naturally associated the words: miraculous, charismatic, Holy Spirit, and healing with “African Christianity”. All those words were synonymous with Christianity in Africa, at least a month ago. I expected to attend charismatic church services and see blind people see and deaf people hear – literally. I at least thought I would hear testimonies from people who had been raised from the dead. I even thought there was a slight possibility I would hear the audible voice of God.
These stereotypes are not far-fetched based on stories I’ve head about Christianity in the “Global South”. I was expecting to finally see what all the hype was about. But in my first month, instead of encountering what I thought would be similar to the book of Acts I listened to an African pastor describe how to use an “EvangeCube” (manufactured in Tennessee). Instead of listening to African songs African drums in a worship service with no time restraints I’ve endured brutally boring Anglican liturgy (manufactured in England), and contemporary worship songs. The stereotype that I had of African Christianity is that it would be – African.
So as Florence and I looked at each other's shocked expressions the last of our stereotypes came crashing down. I destroyed her hope in a white Jesus and she destroyed my hope in an African one; I guess we’ll both have to settle for a Jewish Jesus for now. I’m disappointed in how influential “Western/white” culture is, but I’m not convinced that the expression of faith I have found here is anything but authentic and genuine. I may have not found what I thought I would, but it’s not less “Ugandan”, and the Jewish Jesus I know probably doesn’t care as much as the African American Manny that faith and culture don’t collide as neatly as I would have thought. As more stereotypes are dissembled, I’m ready to encounter this culture on its terms, not mine. Hopefully, in that process I’ll learn to also encounter Jesus, also on his terms, not mine.
I noticed the blue eyed fair skinned portrait of Jesus that hung in our sitting room within minutes of arriving at my home stay, but never would I have imagined that my family actually thought the portrait was accurate. I had lots of expectations about Christianity/spirituality in Africa as a whole. I naturally associated the words: miraculous, charismatic, Holy Spirit, and healing with “African Christianity”. All those words were synonymous with Christianity in Africa, at least a month ago. I expected to attend charismatic church services and see blind people see and deaf people hear – literally. I at least thought I would hear testimonies from people who had been raised from the dead. I even thought there was a slight possibility I would hear the audible voice of God.
These stereotypes are not far-fetched based on stories I’ve head about Christianity in the “Global South”. I was expecting to finally see what all the hype was about. But in my first month, instead of encountering what I thought would be similar to the book of Acts I listened to an African pastor describe how to use an “EvangeCube” (manufactured in Tennessee). Instead of listening to African songs African drums in a worship service with no time restraints I’ve endured brutally boring Anglican liturgy (manufactured in England), and contemporary worship songs. The stereotype that I had of African Christianity is that it would be – African.
So as Florence and I looked at each other's shocked expressions the last of our stereotypes came crashing down. I destroyed her hope in a white Jesus and she destroyed my hope in an African one; I guess we’ll both have to settle for a Jewish Jesus for now. I’m disappointed in how influential “Western/white” culture is, but I’m not convinced that the expression of faith I have found here is anything but authentic and genuine. I may have not found what I thought I would, but it’s not less “Ugandan”, and the Jewish Jesus I know probably doesn’t care as much as the African American Manny that faith and culture don’t collide as neatly as I would have thought. As more stereotypes are dissembled, I’m ready to encounter this culture on its terms, not mine. Hopefully, in that process I’ll learn to also encounter Jesus, also on his terms, not mine.
Friday, September 11, 2009
The Real Hotel Rwanda
So we just so happened to bump into Paul Rusesabagina outside of the hotel that the movie Hotel Rwanda is based on. After spending time in Rwanda learning about the genocide I now know that the movie is very inaccurate. Paul Rusesabagina is a true hero though... he's legit. The UN... not so much.
Enjoy.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Riots in Kampala
So, this is the thing... every tribe in Uganda has a King called a Gabaca. Uganda as a whole has a President. Today President Museveni didn't allow the Bugandan Gabaca (Buganda is the largest tribe in Uganda) to enter Kampala. This is a BIG NO NO... and riots followed. The Riots got so intense it made it's way to Mukono and no students were allowed to go to their families. We could literally hear gunshots... so we decided to record a video. Duh!
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