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.

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.

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.