coming home and getting the shaft

One day i walk in flowers
one day i walk on stone
today i walk in hours
someday i shall be home

O I have been a beggar
and shall be one again
and few the ones to lend a hand
within the world of men

I sat on the the street corner
and watched the boot heels shine
and cried out glad and cried out sad
with every voice but mine

This song goes through my head today
A strong motif for this trip has been the idea of a home coming - its a pretty arrogant supposition. I am keenly aware that for as much as do and want this to feel like home, it isn't home till you are accepted back intot he family. I was told the first day that my spanish was too academic. So i have been practicing dropping my "s" at the end of words. I have been playing with the particular lilt that turns every phrase into a singsong affair. I've been eating the food - breathing in the air and marinating in various mixtures of sweat.
You sorta know you are in when they feel comfortable enough to prank you. Pablo has pulled a few on me and i ahve gotten one on him so the score is 3-1 in his favor. I don't usually take easily to losing a prank war but in this case if it means that I trully have come home then...

two cemetaries

We past two cemeteries, it is believed that each belonged to a different class of people in this society. they were right across the street from each other. Both were now considered full. The rich cemetery was more ornately adorned and significantly more well kept. The poor one was in disrepair and seemed rather neglected. The rich one had tombs above ground where the bodies were placed – the belief being that being above ground was that much closer to heaven. The poor one buried people beneath the ground. these of course it is believed will take just a little bit longer to get to heaven on resurrection day.

Even in death the poor get the shaft it seems.

When we were here at the service last Sunday it was interesting to listen to the rhetoric used to talk about the nature of the people’s faith. Perseverance in the face of struggle, joy in the face of hardship, acknowledging pain and horror as a common way of life and identifying Jesus as dear helping friend. This is the narrative that they told themsleves. While it may not be typical of all the thematic material that these people cover in their in spiritual journey it certainly seems common. This narrative of peace in the face of conflict takes on a much different flavour when on the way home you also see a young man carrying a three foot coffin on a motorcycle. It certainly takes on a completely different tone than it does in any context that I have heard in Canada.

The pastor said that when we get to heaven we all will understand each other but the main language will be Spanish. Rousing cheers errupted – and I certainly would not be opposed to that. The pastor also kept reminding us that we have the same faith no matter where we come from. There are not borders with Jesus he told us. But I can’t help thinking that while the sentiment might be good for a sense of community building it really stands on some pretty feeble logic.

The fact is there are huge differences in our faith. The one out here has to be able to sustain people in ways that we hardly ever encounter back home. It must hold them in a quotidian struggle against the inherent level of difficulty that they face. Some might say its a more simplistic faith. We squabble over cerebral issues in the minutia of Christology for instance. How do we justify the luxury of those debates?

We live unconscious to the reality of the hard world that searches for meaning here. We live oblivious of how the narrative they speak to each other helps them to hang on a little longer. The horizon of their hope is in their next step, the next sunrise. Yet their kindness and joy pours out of every pore as easily as sweating in the hot sticky sun. How is it that complaining is so easily on our lips…

The arrogance of our position is not lost on me. But it does little to scold myself or anyone else. In the end it seems a rather pathetic and plastic faith that we own in North America – that I own… Caught up in trivialities that leave us vulnerable to the sins of greed, lust, complacency and ultimately arrogance. Like the arrogant rich buried apart from the poor.

For my part, I might hope that I might be worthy to be buried with the poor on their side of the street. And bury me as deep underground as you care to dig. Right there in that cemetery if you like. If what they say is true I certainly might be one of the last to arrive at the pearly gates but then maybe I’ll get one last glimpse of this paradise before I wander upstairs. And if I happen not to make up there and must return to this place – that might be wonderful reward – to wander around here for eternity eating cajeta de coco.

Bury me on the poor side please – if you think I’m worthy…

It was ironic as we drove by that the passage about dividing the sheep and the goats came back to as did the passage about it being harder for the rich ot enter the kingdom of heaven. The sheep were on the right and the goats were on the left to be banished forever in that parable of Jesus.

As we drove up the hill the rich cemetary was on the left…

Doing good–doing the best!

a question that keeps coming back to me over and over – It is possible to do good things – especially where the need seems so comparatively great – but then good may not be good enough what is the best thing to do?

Soy aquel que

I wish words were sufficient for the flood of emotions and thoughts swirling through me…

I suppose that I shouldn’t be surprized at how my experiences here feel like a home coming. I’ve taken enough courses in psychology to know to expect that. There are some things that defy the logical objectiveness that that knowledge should provide. Almost everything smells, tastes, sounds and even looks like the world of my childhood. There are moments of when the deep calm of coming home settles in – at times when I like should feel much less at peace.

a drunk grabs my hand at the market as we enter demanding money, drugs whatever… My dad final has to sternly push him off so we can keep going unmolested. My boys are scared. I feel comfortable – like somehow that is supposed to happen. I feel like a child I think.

we drive by the house where we used to live – it has changed but the street where we lived hasn’t changed all that much and as we drive past the corner where i used to play on the street with my friends, I am overwhelmed with the weirdest sense of exhilaration and powerful sense of belonging – I really am speechless.

The one thing that everyone here keeps asking me is how much Nicaragua has changed. It’s true it has changed – a lot. But in some ways it has not changed at all. When I talk to the people here – its almost as if they want me to reinforce the notion that Nicaragua has changed – especially for the better. It has gotten better – the way a good wine gets better with age. The most noticeable changes though are ones that I would not attribute to betterment but rather greedy lust of commercial pursuits. Development has occurred but I suspect it has only exasperated the distance between the relatively rich and the desperately poor. Yes it has changed.

But mostly for me so far it has not changed. The air is still always tinged with diesel. A deep breath is never bland. in the course of one breath you can smell the ripening mangos, dona celinas taceria cooking up goodies, the exhaust of the japoneras (the little Japanese trikes that serve as personal taxis, and earth. the next breath will be another set – distinct enough that you can taste everything you smell.

The sound of rain falling – horns always honking – birds, animals – but the most pleasant sound of all is Spanish. I was told by our driver that my Spanish was far too academic – I shouldn't be offended. To get more campesino I am going to have to drop all those hard “s” at the end of words like nosotros.

It tastes like home as well. ginger drinks, gallo pinto, mamones, nancites, roschia – its all there. Each bite a little bit more like the fall into deep cushiony bed.

It’s hard not to smile – after all el chocolatito beat the mexican in a convincing tko last night – vive nicaragua…

Boston Bruins: The Cup Is Coming Home

I’m still here…

Harold Camping did us a favour.

Mr. Camping is the dude who told us that the end of the world was supposed to be yesterday. He was wrong about that prediction and maybe finally we can all move on from giving any time and space to this sort of prognosticating. Although, I’m sure that listening to the clever backpedalling that Mr. Camping is doing today from his pulpit (if indeed he decided to show up in his pulpit at all) would be mildly amusing. Maybe Mr. Camping is wondering if the level of homosexual debauchery has actually reached the critical mass that he claimed would precipitate the calamitous end of the world. Perhaps Mr. Camping is engaging in recalculations of the actual end of days which no doubt eluded him this time. You know listening to God’s voice is a tough job – especially when its supposed to tip you off to impending doom.

I doubt he is figuring out sly ways of apologizing to sincere believers who either took him seriously or are embarrassed at his antics in the first place.

I doubt Mr. Camping is helping to raise money for Robert Fitzpatrick who spent most of his life saving making doomsday posters warning people of the impending doom. Something about this story caught my attention. While Mr. Fitzpatrick may have meant this next quotation as a notification of the impending wrath of Judgement Day – there may be more truth his word than may first appear to those of us dismayed at this man’s fool hardy actions:

"If you're not saved by the time these events begin tomorrow, then you'll be left here to face judgment day."

The truth is that many people did wake up to face the judgment of horrors that have befallen them in this life. The innumerable suffering of  that we are all vulnerable to is the kind of doomsday that many people re-live over and over again. It is worthwhile to ask from where salvation will arrive for the broken relationships, poverty, disease, loneliness, etc. Fact is that for some people one final judgement day might be preferable to the daily hell that they endure.

It would seem that Mr. Camping’s antics would be more a distraction from the real life salvation that believers are responsible to bring to the world. On the other hand maybe we can finally put this end times tom foolery to bed once and for all. I mean the end is near  right? Sure it is – but let’s face it for many the end was a long time time ago. It’s time to get on with the business of redeeming whose lives seem over. Instead of focusing on this Judgement Day why not spend some time judging our own efforts to provide the tools for people to get out of the desperate situations they find themselves in. And maybe we can all hope that the media will grow a up a little or just plain tire of the idiocy of these types of stories without whose help we would have been blissfully unaware.

Rich Religion

According to this research, it pays to be Hindu. This data shows that Hindus in USA have a higher level of education and the highest amount of over 75K earning individuals.  If you are bothered that your particular religion is not faring as well, its not that hard to reconcile this numbers and ameliorate your own relative religious position. Because we know that  God helps those who help themselves! Anyway, a quick recall of the basics of statistics will tip you off to the fact that there are significantly more Baptists still in USA than Hindus - and a larger sample number means that there is a greater chance of the that larger sample landing closer tot he mean (average). So multiple gods may not have as direct a correlation with wealth and education as it appears on this graphic. A smaller sample group landing on the higher education and more wealth side is significant since according to statistical theory they could just as easily land on the negative side. Interestingly, "the way of suffering" (Buddhism) leads to a nirvana of cash and degrees as well.
What might be a little more significant is that the health and wealth Pentecostals ought to check out what the Anglicans are doing cause they are kicking their blessed rear-ends. So take a moment and basque in your relative wealth and academic achievement - unless of course you are Jehovah's Witness - in which case...
Now snap out of it people. Seriously, isn't the whole point of religion supposed to be about being satisfied with the unexplainable truth - taken as faith? And isn't the reward of the afterlife the thing to strive for? Come on a little bit poorer and an little bit dumber never hurt anybody right? Ignorance is bliss and simplicity is true riches.
I think it is interesting that a rhetorical frame like this one can dance into the social head space and force education and wealth as a rubric of evaluation on religion. I think its cool our social sphere can be that banal. I think its perverse for those who might claim to hang onto any vestige of faith to exacerbate this issue further. So then what do you make of this post? God thing it goes mostly unread...

Ask a Ninja

Imperialism and Colonialism for Preschoolers

Jesus HEART U on your bumper…

So today on my way home from school I am listening to CBC radio – like the geek that I am. The feed is from Calgary so after 3pm I get to hear about Calgary traffic woes – which all seems a little pedestrian…

The traffic reporter comes on with her litany of fender benders, tow trucks this and that and a handful of road closures. Turns out today the weather  and not the usual ineptitude of Calgary’s drivers that is the worst enemy of the homeward bound commute. It is some freakishly cold temperature and blowing snow – etc, etc. Apparently, there are several hills in Calgary that can in these conditions get quite icy and make progress up the hill largely impossible. This is not a reasonable calculation to many Calgarian drivers as they unheedingly attempt to rocket their way up these inclines (let’s be clear these are not really challenging grades except for Albertans whose predilection for flat open spaces seems to hinder their judgement of rudimentary principles of physics). Squiggling and swerving out of control as they were the traffic stacks up behind them.

“It seems a group of high school boys are out there on Center Street helping to push cars up the hill”

The traffic reporter barely even squeezes the words out – but my mind is popping. i know that area of Calgary and I know that there is a small Mennonite church sitting basically at the bottom of that hill. I know too that there is a volunteer youth worker at that church who has led small groups of high school boys for years. Its weird but somehow I know the number of the church and after I call it my hunch is confirmed: his small group of boys had not even gotten down to doing their Bible Study they had spent the whole time pushing cars up the hill.

I told him his group had made the traffic report. “Shoot,” he said, “we didn’t want to get noticed.”

Sometimes, I hear evangelicals debating evangelism over service formerly known as the Social Gospel. I think that argument ought to be put to bed at least for a good long rest. The answer is simple.

I wonder if sometimes this debate is entertained because we are just looking for the easiest way to appease the guilt we face when we encounter the servanthood that characterized Jesus ministry. Some people argue that there is little point to good deeds if we can’t somehow communicate the reason for our good works. Rubbish! Jesus didn’t teach us to do good deeds because they will allow us to do some other more important thing. Jesus did good things – he served people – because it was the best thing he could do for them. That’s it! No other agenda!

Could it be that we somehow think that the ‘telling’ will allow us to get away with doing less for people? I mean follow the logic. Maybe our desire to share the gospel with people is actually a result of the fact that we really are not that interested in serving them wholeheartedly. Maybe we think well if THEY have Jesus they probably will pull THEMSELVES up by the boot straps and put their lives back together. Or maybe we think – I’m not totally willing to serve THEM (you Jesus called this bringing Kingdom of Heaven to the earth) so I will at least make sure that I seal their eternal fate by telling them about Jesus. Or maybe worst of all we think that some flimsy act of randomish kindness that cost us very little is actually meaningful to the receiver of that gift and that adding the phrase “because Jesus loves you!” really cuts the mustard. Dude! Let’s give our heads a shake if that is where we are at!

That’s what I thought about when I heard about these boys. Okay so in some ways maybe their service was not the deepest most engaged action they could have taken. Who knows? But I do know that when they saw a REAL problem they rolled up their sleeves and pitched in. Done. No – hey I am gonna push you up the hill and write Jesus hearts U on your dirty bumper as you drive off. These guys were even bummed to get mentioned on the traffic report!

Look all I’m saying is until we are willing to serve people in as much depth as Jesus was we should probably SHUT UP about claiming to do things in his name – THAT’s ALL!