Ruth

Since my last blog post, my week has consisted of a youth retreat (for a detailed account read meredithinperu.blogspot.com), a delightfully church-filled Sunday, a week of preparing for and teaching two different classes, and my attempt at fighting off this cold/cough that is attacking a good percentage of Huancayans because of the sudden drop in temperatures. But amidst all of the things I have been doing, I feel anything but overwhelmed. I feel peace.

As I prepare to leave today for another retreat with a different group of high schoolers, I am thinking about my favorite part of last weekend's retreat. It was not the hilarious crisis of painting our group "banderola"/flag, nor was it the fact that one of the students swiped the key to the main door of the girls casa, nor was it the endless screeching of the girls who would not go to sleep, nor the sad truth that we did not have running water the next morning, nor that we began our devotional at 7:30 am (try herding 24 cranky chicas to a time of prayer at that hour). No, my favorite time of the retreat came in an unexpected package.

My group had been semi-participatory throughout the retreat, but were a bit reluctant to talk about the theme of the weekend: La Amistad de Jesús/The Friendship of Jesus. Saturday morning we discussed different things that build walls between ourselves and others; And in the afternoon we were to discuss family relationships. The morning went relatively well and the kids seemed to enjoy their time together, despite the fact that they were tired and un-bathed. Yet, when it came time for our afternoon session, every attempt at a conversation-starting question that I asked was responded to with dead silence, the occasional yawn, and sometimes a cricket chirp. I recalled that in one of the facilitator planning meetings we discussed the art of story telling, and how powerful it could be. I began to tell one of my favorite stories of the Bible, the story of Ruth. I framed it in a contemporary setting, Ruth being from Lima, Naomi and family from Huancayo, etc. I told the story quietly, and the kids were leaning in, trying to hear. They actually wanted to hear the story. After I finished telling the story, we talked a little bit about the family of Ruth and Naomi, and discussed what that teaches us. It was beautiful. But this was not even the best part.

My group of 10 fifteen year olds decided that for their presentation to the entire group of fifty-something people, they would re-enact the story of Ruth as though it happened today. The kids were so creative and fearless in their practicing of the drama. Two girls sat with Bible in hand and recounted each detail of the first chapter, which was proving to be the toughest to coordinate, as you have the deaths of Elimelech, Mahlon and Chilion. After a series of interesting twists to the story, the kids finally perfected their drama.
During the presentation, which was about 15 minutes too long, the kids had the full attention of their peers, full of applause and yelling. What was so special about this scene was not the goofiness of Mahlon and Chilion who had an entire drawn out section of courting Ruth and Orpah (a detail left out by the story’s original redactors), nor the words “where you go, I will go” from Ruth to Naomi, and not even the way that Mahlon learned one line of the Wedding March that he played over and over again throughout the entire wedding scene of Ruth and Boaz (another detail omitted by its authors).

I could not wipe the grin off of my face during the entire dramatic presentation because I realized this: They got it. They spent the last hour of our group time picking phrase by phrase through the tiny book of Ruth so that they could tell the story of a different type of family who loved each other dearly. Yes, they got it. And because they got it, so did I.

Simple Words

Hello Friends! First of all I must apologize for my lack of blog post. I have found that every bit of time I have allotted to blog has been taken over by an amazing conversation or a sudden turn in my plans, and I have to admit that I will have to submit to those surprises before I submit to the blog. Hopefully I can share those surprises along the way! I am now in Pinetown, South Africa and have been since Thursday! I was whisked away on a church family camp (family meaning church family) on Friday and got back on Sunday. It was a wonderful opportunity to meet people and understand the dynamics of the church a little bit. The folks on the trip were both black and white. The blacks being mostly Zulu and the whites being mostly from English descent. It was a weekend of firsts for the church, the first time they had done family camp, the first time they had a camp that was of mixed races, and the first time many people met each other, even though they went to the same church. Its interesting how different services can divide people but also interesting how weekends away can bring them together! More thoughts on this weekend later. One thing I did find striking was how often all of us had to use simple words in talking to one another. I befriend a little man named Stingo (4 yrs) and he spoke Zulu and would speak to me in Zulu like I knew what he was saying, it was rather funny. My only responses to him were simple words in English, like, "You are such a good boy!" or "You can run so fast" or "wow, you are swimming!". Although little was said it felt like much was being communicated in simple words. Every time I spoke with him he had the most amazing smile on his face, and the same when he spoke to me. It made me think about how much I talk and many times don't say anything! Overall in the area that I am in and the people that I have been surrounded by it seems that simple words, even among adults are common. I heard one woman tell another today, "good girl" when she heard of a mission project she was involved in. Simple words actually remind me of my grandmother who often would communicate in simple but meaningful words. She has always been so slow to speak and quick to listen. I believe this is how Jesus must be...slow to speak and eager to listen, and when he is listens he truly hears and when he speaks it is simple, yet sensational! May all of us in our complex new cultures find ways to use simple words!

Greetings from Guatemala. The four of us--Paige Martin, Cindy Frisch, Jonathan Anderson, and me, Seann Duffin--arrived here in Quetzaltenango, Guatemala on Sunday afternoon. I think the biggest challenge for us so far has been settling into a routine. Don´t let anyone tell you that it´s easy to go to a country where you don´t speak the language. Of course, that is why we are here. For the next four weeks, we will be studying Spanish at a language school in Quetzaltenango (or Xela, as the locals call it).

As soon as I stepped off the plane in Guatemala, I knew that, for the next ten weeks, my life would be completely different than it is back home in Durham. As I´ve wandered around Xela and gotten to know my host family, I have had plenty of opportunities to think about privilege and possessions. I am a self-avowed middle-class, educated white male who is used to a certain standard of living. My accommodations here are not quite as comfortable as those to which I will return in July. However, I´ve noticed something strange. I am no worse off without all those things. In fact, my life might even be easier not having a car, sharing a bathroom with 6 other people, and being able to check my email only once in a while. I have much less than I´m used to, but I still have everything I need. Three meals each day, a warm bed to sleep in, and clean water to drink.

I miss the luxuries of home, but I feel incredibly lucky to have what I have here, because I encounter people each day who do not have even the basic things that I have. We´ve been so busy here that I haven´t had a lot of time to reflect or form many coherent and profound thoughts, but these are just some of my reactions to my first few days in Xela. And I´d like to challenge all of you back home and abroad to look around you and think about what we think of as necessities. There are a hundred things I thought I couldn´t live without until I came here and began to live without them.

Peace of Christ and love from Guatemala.
Seann Duffin
M.Div. ´08
Quetzaltenango, Guatemala.

What Beauty.

We have begun teaching. In both of my classes and both of Meredith’s we spent the majority of the first class getting to know our students and doing typical “first day stuff.” We talked about our syllabi, our final projects, our hopes for the classes that we are teaching, and gave general introductions to our different courses. (The photo is of one of my classrooms.)

The most profound moment for me was tonight as I was listening to Meredith teach. Meredith and I are attending each other’s classes so that we can help if we get into a Spanish mental block (which happens more often than one would think), so that we can offer suggestions of other ways to approach a tema (theme/topic), and frankly, so that we can learn from each other. This partnership has been wonderful, and the moment of beauty was something I was able to observe because I did have to think about what I was going to say next. I was able to be a listener—something that I think we fail to do often in our daily hurried lives.

Meredith’s class at one of the seminaries is about Diakonia—the life of service. After the basic introductions and syllabus discussion, we participated in a dinámica (game to help with learning). The basic notion of the game is to pass out little sheets of paper and have everyone write their name on their sheet. Then they pass the papers back in (with only their name written on them), the leader mixes up the papers and redistributes them so that everyone receives a sheet with a different person’s name written on it. The student then writes on the paper something that they want for the other person to do. For example, “sing your favorite song,” “recite a poem,” “dance around the room,” “act like a monkey.” Ultimately, each person has to do what they wrote down, not what they were assigned to do. This embodies the notion of “doing unto others as you would have them do unto you,” but in the context of service, Meredith taught us that it breaks down the “us” and “them” barriers… reminding us that we are all “Hijos de Dios” (Children of God).

Gladys, a women in Mere’s class, is about 70 years old…the oldest in the class by a good 45 years. She goes to our church and has a spirit so kind that one cannot help but feel at ease around her. She wrote on the paper she received during the dinamica an instruction for her classmate to sing a song of praise aloud to all of us. When it came time for Gladys to do the action she had assigned her friend, she struggled to come up with something to sing, and appeared a little bit flustered. Without missing a beat (literally… no pun intended), the members of the class began helping her sing the song, and before we knew it, we were all singing. This, my friends, was a moment in which, without any doubt in my mind, the Spirit of God was present in our little classroom. The words we sang were:

Tú has venido a la orilla
no has buscado ni a sabios ni a ricos
tan sólo quieres que yo te siga.
Coro: Señor, me has mirado a lost ojos
sonriendo has dicho mi nombre,
en la arena he djado mi barca,
junto a ti buscaré otro mar.

Lord, you have come to the lakeshore
looking neither for wealthy nor wise ones.
You only asked me to follow humbly.
Refrain: O Lord, with your eyes you have searched me,
kindly smiling, have spoken my name.
Now my boat's left on the shoreline behind me;
by your side I will seek other seas.

It was beautiful.

Cold, but Warm

Well, I'm sitting on the steps of the "White House" aka the administration building at John Wesley College (really its just a big white building and that is how it got its name- really no correlation to the White House in the US ) hoping my Internet connection will stay long enough for me to send in this blog. At the moment it is 8:00 pm in South Africa, but 2:00 pm according to my internal time clock. So I am exhausted and very cold sitting here on the steps of the White House, it is about 40 degrees and to a girl from Florida, that is cold. Yet although it is cold, it has been incredibly warm at John Wesley college.

The students greeted us when we got here with hugs and kisses and a meal that they had prepared for our arrival. We said we were tired and not hungry, but we must have just been jet lagged because we ate all the food on our plate and sat with them at their table for over two hours talking. We all had to rationalize that we needed sleep and they needed to study to move us from the table, but I'm sure if reason were not apart of the picture we could have talked for hours, and since then we have been able to. Our conversations have been warm as well. It seems that in the respect granted by new situations and strangers we are able to really listen and hear and wonder with each other. Most of our wondering is of course grounded in the area of church since we are all preparing to be pastors of some sort. It has been remarkable to see the similarities between the strengths and struggles within both of our churches that are 8000 miles apart. Maybe those of you in other international context can relate. We talked about the lack of the prophetic voice of the church, the struggles concerning mission and outreach, attendance and discipleship, economic class, racism, and the struggle in countering the prosperity gospel. Although we did not solve the church's problems or the world's in our small conversation over coffee and tea, it was a pleasure and privilege to talk and listen and wonder with them, our fellow brothers and sisters and ministers, it was actually quite warm!

Contribution in Canada

Well, after an hour and a half plane ride (indeed, my pilot had a lead foot!), I found myself in a very chilly Toronto last week. It is hard to believe that I am already here, fully immersed in one of the most profound experiences of my life -- living and working with the invisible, those with profound disabilities, those easily forgotten because they do not contribute to society.

This idea of contribution had me thinking yesterday on my day away. As I meandered through the Art Gallery of Ontario in downtown Toronto, I came across this painting titled "Woman in Bathtub" (Alex Colville). Between a still life of a jar of apricots and a portrait of Henry VIII (bringing horrible flashbacks of the English Reformation to mind!), lay this naked woman in a bathtub. The theology behind all of this? In short, this picture reminded me of Abigail*, one of the ladies that I live and work with here in L'Arche. Abigail has cerebral palsey, which means that she is unable to control her muscles or communicate verbally. She is known for her famous smile, however, by which we communicate. As such, this week I have been trained in the personal care of Abigail, to include how to bathe her.

As I stared at this painting, I couldn't help but think of how helpless Abigail is while in the bath. Whoever is assisting her is unable to turn away, for in a few brief moments alone she could slip down and drown. She requires constant attention, loving care, and gentleness. And, of course, she needs our help to be washed clean. And, as I looked at this woman in the bathtub, I couldn't help but think of the condition of humanity. How we, as people, are in need of someone to watch over us. Someone to give us constant attention, loving care, and grace. And, of course, to be washed clean from the sins that pollute our very being.

Perhaps the idea of contribution, woven into our societal obsession with progress and innovation, needs to be revisited with a different lens. For when we see ourselves from God's perspective, we realize that if our acceptance into the body of Christ is based on our contribution to the Almighty God, we are in trouble. Rather, God sees something valuable in each person, fearfully and wonderfully made. And with every breath, we all have a chance to contribute to bringing God glory, even if it isn't in the ways that we typically expect. Even if it is reflected in the care with which I wash Abigail's body. Even if it is reflected in the humility, surrender, and enviable trust that Abigail demonstrates towards God, and those who desire to serve God by serving her. I'm just so very grateful to be a part of this experience. Abigail, as well as the other members of this community, have contributed to my life and ministry in more ways that I could have ever expected or imagined. I only pray that I have something to offer this community that has already given me so much.

Believe me ... bathtime will never be the same.

*Name has been changed for privacy.

The Little Things

el 15 de mayo, 2007

Today begins our third full day in Huancayo. After some drama with our flight on Thursday (a mechanical problem with the plane kept us from leaving in time to catch our connecting flight), we had to reschedule our flights for Friday, getting us safely to Lima Friday night. We were picked up by Gladys and Raul (the most wonderful Peruvian travel agents) at midnight and taken straight to our hotel to rest. On Saturday we rode from Lima to Huancayo for 7 and a half hours on a bus that went up over a n 18,000 foot peak and gradually down into the valley (about 10,000/11,000 feet) where Huancayo is nestled.

We spent Sunday morning in worship (about 3 hours), an afternoon of almuerzo (lunch) with the church community, and errand running with Cesar and family. The day ended in our cute little piso (apartment), with the sounds of the city accompanying my life here.

Since I arrived, I have been thinking about the little things that seem to make this experience so wonderful. The little things like seeing the smiling faces of Gladys and Raul as we sleepily wandered through customs into a crowd of strangers; the little things like the two tiny Dramamine pills that made the bus ride so much more bearable; the little things like being greeted by name in Huancayo--Cesar approached me saying, “Estefani?” to which I responded, “Cesar?”… we had a moment; the little things like meeting one of the students of the high school Sunday morning in worship whose name is Estefani, we bonded over our names; the little things like playing a made-up game with several children and a role of tape; the little things like the random heavy rain shower that caused a bunch of water to shoot through the window of the van into the face of my supervisor’s son, Diego (age 10), subsequently causing me to crack up to the point of tears. I love these little moments of peace, comfort and JOY that remind me that our lives would not be at all profound if it were not for the little things that tell our stories.

Yesterday, (Monday) was our first “official” meeting with our supervisor, Cesar, during which we talked about all of the things he hopes for our time here. The idea of teaching in this setting is intimidating, but also empowering. I pray that I can learn enough to be an effective teacher. Our classes at the seminary begin on Monday, May 21. I am teaching Monday nights from 6-7:30 and Thursdays from 6-9:15; my classes at the high school begin the same day in the afternoon.

Very soon, I will begin teaching in the high school about the Kingdom of God. Today I remembered that the Kingdom of God surely is found in the little things (the mustard seed, the leaven in the loaf, the friendly smile of a stranger, the rain). Don’t get me wrong. I’m not comparing the Kingdom of God to Dramamine. I am, however, recognizing that what is going to make this experience “theologically profound” are the little things that make each day one that glorifies God. I am excited to see how God will use the little things of tomorrow to make such a day!

Vamos...

Tomorrow I leave for Peru.

As I sit among the piles of clothes, books, travel documents, and my own personal pharmacy, I break from my packing and semi-anxious pacing to remember why I am going in the first place.

My supervisor’s instructions were extensive. He asked us to teach both in the local seminary as well as in the “Colegio Metodista”/Methodist High School. In the seminary, I am teaching a class called “Acompañamiento Pastoral de Jovenes”/Pastoral Accompaniment of Youth. He wants me to discuss ways to embody effective pastoral ministry with youth as we pursue goals and dreams for the life of the Church. In the high school, I am working within the topic of “El Reino de Dios y Justicia Social”/The Kingdom of God and Social Justice. I am so excited to begin learning from the people of Huancayo, but am anxious that they might be getting the short end of the stick by having me as their teacher. I pray that God will truly be in our midst, and that I we will recognize Jesus in each other's faces.

When I was in Peru last Spring, I learned what it felt like to truly feel the Spirit of God, and to recognize God in our midst in the "now", rather than after reflection. The simple words of Daniel Iverson’s hymn are my prayer today as I prepare for my journey:

Spirit of the living God, fall afresh on me.
Spirit of the living God, fall afresh on me.
Melt me, mold me, fill me, use me.
Spirit of the living God, fall afresh on me.

My prayer for this journey as that God's Spirit will move, and that I will be faithful enough to see how.

In Preparation for L'Arche

Amey Victoria in May 2006 working in Tegucigalpa, Honduras.

In six days I will leave for the great unknown that they call Field Education. In only six short days I will find myself groggy, possibly having slept but with equal potential to have kept watch through the night packing, waiting alone in a chilly airport to catch my 6:00am flight to Toronto. In six days, God created the heavens and the earth. And in six days, I will begin my brief but powerful experience serving in the L'Arche community for the summer (www.larchedaybreak.com/). Funny how much can be shaped and formed in but a few days ... funny to imagine that in six days, even this blog entry will be viewed in such hindsight ... funny, not knowing what lies ahead, but knowing and expecting so much!

Fast forward one year, and she is again pulling out the backpack to adventure with God!

Did I mention that I am scared out of my mind? I've noticed my tendencies toward selfishness in the recent weeks. Amidst exams and papers and deadlines and quirky circumstances and misunderstood conversations and questionable intentions (ah, its good to be in Divinity School come finals week), I've found it much easier to be the Myers-Briggs qualified introvert I am than to overly engage life. Everyone else is out for themselves, taking care of their own, so I might as well be, too, eh? (Don't mind me - I'm just practicing my new Canadian endings here). But deep down I know this is just a cover for insecurity. Somehow, the great sweep of papers and tests took off the edge of ministry. Only now, once again, am I realizing the daunting task of serving for the summer. Only now, once again, am I able to reflect on how well (or not so well) I embraced the daily chances to minister and share life together in this past year. And it is only now, having climbed the daunting mountain that is first-year, that I once again realize how marvelously knitted into the plans of God my life actually is ...

And so, I'm headed to L'Arche Daybreak to live in community with adults living with various disabilities, and perhaps most literally, those considered to be the least of these. And yet, I already can see that these who seem to have least have so much more than the world recognizes. Needless to say, there is little room to be selfish here, or to be so caught up in one's own story that we stop seeing the bigger story, God's story. So, as I spend the next six days saying goodbye, getting over myself, and humbling myself for the work of the Spirit, I welcome this blessed opportunity to share, to learn, to grow in the lives of God's people. Pray with me as I embark upon this journey ...