Saturday, February 24, 2007
NAMES
Ayelen Leticia Abagail Dosanto Aquino… José Gregorio Jiménez Gamarra … Cristhian Samuel Quintana Rejala … Lorien Esmeralda Miquel Insaurralde … these are just a sampling of some of the names on my class lists. I have always considered myself to be fairly good at remembering names, but even after two and a half weeks I have not learned how all of my eighty-some students are called. One good thing is that I can always ask “what is your name?” and just pretend that I am seeing if they understand what I am saying, but usually it is not very successful because they say it too fast and quiet anyways. I’ve only tried doing roll call in one of my classes, but I am not always even sure which name to call. Some of them use their first, some their second, some a nickname, some use whichever name they feel like on a given day. No matter which one they use, there is a good chance I will pronounce it wrong. Also, there is a good chance that more than one student in the class is named Fernando, Camila or José. But the worst is that even if I pronounce it right and a student knows I am talking to him or her, the student won’t respond anyways.
To know someone’s name and be able to pronounce it is to have a certain amount of power over that person. When someone says my name, I have no choice but to turn my head and look. In Exodus chapter three, Moses responds to a voice that calls out to him from a bush: “Moses! Moses!” “Here I am.” The voice is introduced as the God of your (Moses’?) father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob – a name almost as long as one of my students’. Names like this are difficult to call out when you need someone to stop whistling or kicking the kid in front of her. Long names are very inconvenient when the cords of death are wrapped around you and the torments of Sheol overcome you, when arrogant people attack you and a gang of ruthless men seek your life, or when your bones melt like wax. At this point in history, Moses’ people are in need of a name they can pronounce when they are getting whipped and beaten by the Egyptian slave drivers, or when they feel homesick for the Promised Land, so Moses asks God what his name is. God first replies “I am who I am” or “I will be who I will be,” but tells Moses to introduce the people to him by his nickname: “I am.” It’s only four characters long, but scholars wanted something fancy so they dubbed it “the tetragrammatron.” Transliterated from the Hebrew, it is YWHW, or in your NIV version it appears as “the LORD.” You can pronounce it as Yahweh, but not in front of your Jewish friends, not even the most liberal among them. I once visited a Jewish congregation that had a female Rabbi and called their synagogue a temple, and even they were very apprehensive about humans pronouncing God’s personal name. In order to honor The Name, the scribes left out the vowel pointing and that is why we can only guess at the pronunciation.
Besides the difficulties presented due to vowel pointing, the ancient Hebrew language is also somewhat lacking and imprecise when it comes to verbal tenses. I have a friend who translated the beginning of God’s response as “I will be who I was.” In some ways I kind of like this, because God’s introduction of himself (God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob) shows that he has been faithful to Moses’ forefathers, and therefore he will continue to be faithful to every generation. Others think God gives no answer at all, that he says something like “it’s none of your business, I am whoever I wanna be.” I learned something in school about how the other nations had gods who, if someone called on them, they had to answer. It’s like performing a magic spell if only you knew the right words, or maybe even expecting a miracle if only you prayed the right words. It’s possible that God is telling Moses the only important thing is that God exists and will be there for his people when they need him, but he doesn’t want people using his name just for whatever.
If God is in fact telling Moses his name, it puts him in a somewhat vulnerable position; it’s possible that people could start wars, they could oppress others, they could curse and condemn, they could try and gain earthly goods or power over circumstances to meet their own ends, all in the power of his name. At any given time, over the next 3300 years, there would always be someone, somewhere, in trouble, distressed, sad, calling on his name to come to their rescue. It’s true there would be a large amount of thanks given to the bearer of the Name, and rejoicing in it, but wouldn’t one get tired being called upon to celebrate others’ trivial successes day after day after day?
I tried to teach the students to call me Miss Sabo, and explain that this would be an appropriate term of respect in North America. Unfortunately my name is a little close-sounding to the Spanish word “sapo” which means toad. So I guess I am Teacher Ellen, or even just “Teacher.” I not only hear it a million times each day at school – “Teacher, look at my drawing,” “Teacher, tell me the answer to the quiz,” “Teacher Ellen can I get a drink of water” (“no, you just had recess”) “Teacher Ellen, do we have to copy all of that?” “Teacher, when do we get to watch a video?”– I also hear it almost every time I leave my house, even from the neighbourhood kids that do not go to our school. Luckily I can please them just by asking “how are you?” in English; when we cry out, “save me oh LORD!” it requires a lot more response on the part of the hearer.
Right now I don’t even understand most of what the students tell me in rapid speak, but as my abilities increase, I hope I can learn patience from a God that has shown himself to be very patient with our continual crying out to him and faithful in responding. He even likes it! And as for me calling out the names of my students, well, they will just have to have patience with me as I keep asking, slowly, clearly, pronouncing every syllable, “What…is…your…name?”
Ayelen Leticia Abagail Dosanto Aquino… José Gregorio Jiménez Gamarra … Cristhian Samuel Quintana Rejala … Lorien Esmeralda Miquel Insaurralde … these are just a sampling of some of the names on my class lists. I have always considered myself to be fairly good at remembering names, but even after two and a half weeks I have not learned how all of my eighty-some students are called. One good thing is that I can always ask “what is your name?” and just pretend that I am seeing if they understand what I am saying, but usually it is not very successful because they say it too fast and quiet anyways. I’ve only tried doing roll call in one of my classes, but I am not always even sure which name to call. Some of them use their first, some their second, some a nickname, some use whichever name they feel like on a given day. No matter which one they use, there is a good chance I will pronounce it wrong. Also, there is a good chance that more than one student in the class is named Fernando, Camila or José. But the worst is that even if I pronounce it right and a student knows I am talking to him or her, the student won’t respond anyways.
To know someone’s name and be able to pronounce it is to have a certain amount of power over that person. When someone says my name, I have no choice but to turn my head and look. In Exodus chapter three, Moses responds to a voice that calls out to him from a bush: “Moses! Moses!” “Here I am.” The voice is introduced as the God of your (Moses’?) father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob – a name almost as long as one of my students’. Names like this are difficult to call out when you need someone to stop whistling or kicking the kid in front of her. Long names are very inconvenient when the cords of death are wrapped around you and the torments of Sheol overcome you, when arrogant people attack you and a gang of ruthless men seek your life, or when your bones melt like wax. At this point in history, Moses’ people are in need of a name they can pronounce when they are getting whipped and beaten by the Egyptian slave drivers, or when they feel homesick for the Promised Land, so Moses asks God what his name is. God first replies “I am who I am” or “I will be who I will be,” but tells Moses to introduce the people to him by his nickname: “I am.” It’s only four characters long, but scholars wanted something fancy so they dubbed it “the tetragrammatron.” Transliterated from the Hebrew, it is YWHW, or in your NIV version it appears as “the LORD.” You can pronounce it as Yahweh, but not in front of your Jewish friends, not even the most liberal among them. I once visited a Jewish congregation that had a female Rabbi and called their synagogue a temple, and even they were very apprehensive about humans pronouncing God’s personal name. In order to honor The Name, the scribes left out the vowel pointing and that is why we can only guess at the pronunciation.
Besides the difficulties presented due to vowel pointing, the ancient Hebrew language is also somewhat lacking and imprecise when it comes to verbal tenses. I have a friend who translated the beginning of God’s response as “I will be who I was.” In some ways I kind of like this, because God’s introduction of himself (God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob) shows that he has been faithful to Moses’ forefathers, and therefore he will continue to be faithful to every generation. Others think God gives no answer at all, that he says something like “it’s none of your business, I am whoever I wanna be.” I learned something in school about how the other nations had gods who, if someone called on them, they had to answer. It’s like performing a magic spell if only you knew the right words, or maybe even expecting a miracle if only you prayed the right words. It’s possible that God is telling Moses the only important thing is that God exists and will be there for his people when they need him, but he doesn’t want people using his name just for whatever.
If God is in fact telling Moses his name, it puts him in a somewhat vulnerable position; it’s possible that people could start wars, they could oppress others, they could curse and condemn, they could try and gain earthly goods or power over circumstances to meet their own ends, all in the power of his name. At any given time, over the next 3300 years, there would always be someone, somewhere, in trouble, distressed, sad, calling on his name to come to their rescue. It’s true there would be a large amount of thanks given to the bearer of the Name, and rejoicing in it, but wouldn’t one get tired being called upon to celebrate others’ trivial successes day after day after day?
I tried to teach the students to call me Miss Sabo, and explain that this would be an appropriate term of respect in North America. Unfortunately my name is a little close-sounding to the Spanish word “sapo” which means toad. So I guess I am Teacher Ellen, or even just “Teacher.” I not only hear it a million times each day at school – “Teacher, look at my drawing,” “Teacher, tell me the answer to the quiz,” “Teacher Ellen can I get a drink of water” (“no, you just had recess”) “Teacher Ellen, do we have to copy all of that?” “Teacher, when do we get to watch a video?”– I also hear it almost every time I leave my house, even from the neighbourhood kids that do not go to our school. Luckily I can please them just by asking “how are you?” in English; when we cry out, “save me oh LORD!” it requires a lot more response on the part of the hearer.
Right now I don’t even understand most of what the students tell me in rapid speak, but as my abilities increase, I hope I can learn patience from a God that has shown himself to be very patient with our continual crying out to him and faithful in responding. He even likes it! And as for me calling out the names of my students, well, they will just have to have patience with me as I keep asking, slowly, clearly, pronouncing every syllable, “What…is…your…name?”
Tonight in church we sang the Spanish version of “Count Your Many Blessings.” The chorus literally translated: “BLESSINGS! How much you already have! BLESSINGS! God sends you more! BLESSINGS! You will be surprised when you see what God will do for you.” Ben was leading the singing and asked us to think of three blessings in our life. Immediately I thought of my roommate Emi. It took us a few weeks of some tense times to figure things out, but now it is so nice to have a leisurely lunch together every day, and take turns praying before the meal and washing dishes, and compliment each other’s cooking. We are both equally neat and go to bed about the same time. One sacrifice I have to make for her sake is that instead of just stuffing all the used grocery bags into another plastic bag, I have to neatly fold all of them, which I think is a total waste of time… it’s not like they look nice or are even more organized, they’re just plastic bags! Yesterday I tried to explain to her that cutting raw chicken on a wood cutting board and then slicing up the vegetables on the same board is a really terrible idea. So besides the fact that her cooking habits may one day be the cause of my contracting salmonella, Emi is a really big blessing in my life.
The second blessing I thought of was intentionally getting lost on my walk home from the grocery store today and coming upon a huge green space that I had never seen before. I have a huge hankering to be in the country somewhere, because even though there are lots of trees, and a few parks not far from my house, everything in the city is fairly dirty and ugly.
The third was the book I am currently reading through a couple pages a day, The Politics of Jesus, by John Howard Yoder. His thesis is that Jesus was deeply concerned with the agenda of politics and related issues of power, status, and right relations, a topic which has been in the forefront of my mind as I interact with the people here. I feel uncomfortable saying that I am powerful, but it’s true. And sometimes annoying, because it puts me in a position where I need to be very careful and responsible with what I have. “Use your power not to oppress others, but to help them.”
Speaking of power, I feel I have developed a tremendous capacity to sit for hours on end doing absolutely nothing. Sunday was a special day at church because it was the annual meeting of six AC churches from Paraguay. There are actually two other AC churches in Asuncion, one of them is only a 10 minute bus ride. Anyways, I sat through the two-hour church service with a sermon I didn’t understand because the preacher was dithering between Spanish in an impossible accent and native language of Guarani. We had a 15 minute break then another meeting about what all the churches did this year and are planning to do in the next, which seems like it would be exciting for me to hear, except that every pastor and treasurer had to preach a mini-sermon and it lasted another two hours. My brain was so overwhelmed that I didn’t listen to a single word. When this meeting was over I burst out the doors and ran laps around the church yard. In some ways though I think listening in a language you don’t understand is better than a really boring sermon, because then you can sit and think and aren’t distracted at all by what the preacher is saying.
My main reason for writing this blog is to say that I am actually excited to go to school and teach tomorrow. That was a fast answer to my prayer for joy. I am still very frustrated with two second graders, and my voice still pains me by 4:30 each, but it is awesome to hear the kids yelling “I speak English!!” and to watch them dancing and clapping while we sing “He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands,” or best of all is when I run into students on the street, which happens every single day and I greet them and they respond to me in English and Oh! the look on their parents’ faces! I need to use Spanish to say that I have tantas ganas to buy a bike so I can tear around the neighbourhood with the kids. I am very blessed, I recognized this after the response I received when I posted my worries/complaints, and every day here if I just open my eyes. You are too because you get to read my great blogs!
The second blessing I thought of was intentionally getting lost on my walk home from the grocery store today and coming upon a huge green space that I had never seen before. I have a huge hankering to be in the country somewhere, because even though there are lots of trees, and a few parks not far from my house, everything in the city is fairly dirty and ugly.
The third was the book I am currently reading through a couple pages a day, The Politics of Jesus, by John Howard Yoder. His thesis is that Jesus was deeply concerned with the agenda of politics and related issues of power, status, and right relations, a topic which has been in the forefront of my mind as I interact with the people here. I feel uncomfortable saying that I am powerful, but it’s true. And sometimes annoying, because it puts me in a position where I need to be very careful and responsible with what I have. “Use your power not to oppress others, but to help them.”
Speaking of power, I feel I have developed a tremendous capacity to sit for hours on end doing absolutely nothing. Sunday was a special day at church because it was the annual meeting of six AC churches from Paraguay. There are actually two other AC churches in Asuncion, one of them is only a 10 minute bus ride. Anyways, I sat through the two-hour church service with a sermon I didn’t understand because the preacher was dithering between Spanish in an impossible accent and native language of Guarani. We had a 15 minute break then another meeting about what all the churches did this year and are planning to do in the next, which seems like it would be exciting for me to hear, except that every pastor and treasurer had to preach a mini-sermon and it lasted another two hours. My brain was so overwhelmed that I didn’t listen to a single word. When this meeting was over I burst out the doors and ran laps around the church yard. In some ways though I think listening in a language you don’t understand is better than a really boring sermon, because then you can sit and think and aren’t distracted at all by what the preacher is saying.
My main reason for writing this blog is to say that I am actually excited to go to school and teach tomorrow. That was a fast answer to my prayer for joy. I am still very frustrated with two second graders, and my voice still pains me by 4:30 each, but it is awesome to hear the kids yelling “I speak English!!” and to watch them dancing and clapping while we sing “He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands,” or best of all is when I run into students on the street, which happens every single day and I greet them and they respond to me in English and Oh! the look on their parents’ faces! I need to use Spanish to say that I have tantas ganas to buy a bike so I can tear around the neighbourhood with the kids. I am very blessed, I recognized this after the response I received when I posted my worries/complaints, and every day here if I just open my eyes. You are too because you get to read my great blogs!
Friday, February 16, 2007
This blog entry will not be so emotional. Yes, my first week and a half of teaching went fairly poorly in general, but I admit there were some classes that I enjoyed and I think the kids learned a lot. I am going to write about my scheduale, not because I expect everyone to be interested in these details of my life but because a few people have asked and it’s easier than writing three emails. On Mondays Ben and I meet with the grade 10 students to give them practical experience with English language (i.e. work on pronunciation) and exposure to north American culture (I guess for those students who don’t already watch movies and listen to north American music). I want to look at some Andy Warhol paintings, have them memorize poetry and read Peanuts comics, Ben wants to teach them to sing “You are you my sunshine” and lots of slang, like “howdy.” I think all my readers should feel a sense of loss that they can’t be in this class, how fun!
After that I have what I think will probably be my favourite and most inspiring part of every week, which is our missionary meeting. We get all excited about projects we are working on and I get to pray in English!! I get the rest of the day to work on said projects and prepare for my week of teaching. I arrive at school at 6:30, the teachers have a devotional time together, and classes start at 7. I teach grade 1, grade 2, and grade 4 until 9:30, and on Thursdays until 10:10 because we have chapel that morning. All of my morning classes have about 20 students each; the grade 1 class is really cute and probably already has learned more than the grade 2 class which has 4 or 5 boys who apparently have never learned to sit in chairs. I love the grade 4 class because I already have good relationships with some of the kids, but at the same time they frustrate me the most because they never stop chatting. The afternoons I teach a kindergarten class that loves to colour and can pronounce English words better than all the others. Then I have a grade 2 class that right now has only five students and a grade 4 class with six students. Obviously my afternoons are a lot less stressful and one thing that encourages me to keep teaching is how well these students are going to be able to speak and understand.
In some ways I make a good teacher because I am a little silly and can entertain the kids, like when I made them practice saying (in Spanish) “teacher I don’t understand because your voice is funny-sounding” or “teacher my brain hurts because I don’t understand what you’re saying.” And I have so much sympathy for them trying to learn a new language, because I am in the same place. So it is not too difficult to teach, but it is very difficult to discipline without knowing Spanish. Most of the kids don’t care if they get in trouble in the first place, add the fact that I sound ridiculous trying to scold them, they just laugh at me. One student today remarked that we are supposed to be in a class of English but he thinks it is a class of laughter. Too bad it is not so funny for me most of the time.
I do think this is a funny story though. The other day my roommate Emi asked me what “like” means. Apparently even when I’m speaking Spanish I retain the terrible habit of inserting this work into every phrase…”so I was like…my class was like…” but in Spanish “estuve like…mi clase fue like…” I hope this doesn’t rub off on my students.
Yes, Paraguay did have Valentine’s day of a sort on February 14. Ben translated “Dia de los enamorados” as “day of the in-loves,” but of course an even more direct translation would be “day of the enamoured.” And if someone is not enamoured with you then you don’t get any cards. (Don’t worry, mom, I didn’t get presents.) It’s okay because they have a different day for celebrating friendship. I guess in Paraguay you have to be really sure if you are in love with someone or just friends. In the church they make an announcement for couples even before they have a date picked for the wedding; if you are going to be involved with someone, it is going to be public and serious. So it seems within our church at least, dating doesn’t really exist, they just have really long engagement periods. There is no room for messing around, I guess.
My favourite time of day this week has been walking to school in the early morning silence, except for the occasional rooster. It reminds me of when I used to take the bus to school in the winter, not only because it is still dark at 6:15 here, but also because there is a spot of concrete in our yard that is cracking a bit and kind of sounds like the really thin ice that I liked to break while I was waiting, to keep my mind off of how cold I was. I haven’t even had to time to worry or complain about the heat lately, as I have been too distracted by teaching.
After that I have what I think will probably be my favourite and most inspiring part of every week, which is our missionary meeting. We get all excited about projects we are working on and I get to pray in English!! I get the rest of the day to work on said projects and prepare for my week of teaching. I arrive at school at 6:30, the teachers have a devotional time together, and classes start at 7. I teach grade 1, grade 2, and grade 4 until 9:30, and on Thursdays until 10:10 because we have chapel that morning. All of my morning classes have about 20 students each; the grade 1 class is really cute and probably already has learned more than the grade 2 class which has 4 or 5 boys who apparently have never learned to sit in chairs. I love the grade 4 class because I already have good relationships with some of the kids, but at the same time they frustrate me the most because they never stop chatting. The afternoons I teach a kindergarten class that loves to colour and can pronounce English words better than all the others. Then I have a grade 2 class that right now has only five students and a grade 4 class with six students. Obviously my afternoons are a lot less stressful and one thing that encourages me to keep teaching is how well these students are going to be able to speak and understand.
In some ways I make a good teacher because I am a little silly and can entertain the kids, like when I made them practice saying (in Spanish) “teacher I don’t understand because your voice is funny-sounding” or “teacher my brain hurts because I don’t understand what you’re saying.” And I have so much sympathy for them trying to learn a new language, because I am in the same place. So it is not too difficult to teach, but it is very difficult to discipline without knowing Spanish. Most of the kids don’t care if they get in trouble in the first place, add the fact that I sound ridiculous trying to scold them, they just laugh at me. One student today remarked that we are supposed to be in a class of English but he thinks it is a class of laughter. Too bad it is not so funny for me most of the time.
I do think this is a funny story though. The other day my roommate Emi asked me what “like” means. Apparently even when I’m speaking Spanish I retain the terrible habit of inserting this work into every phrase…”so I was like…my class was like…” but in Spanish “estuve like…mi clase fue like…” I hope this doesn’t rub off on my students.
Yes, Paraguay did have Valentine’s day of a sort on February 14. Ben translated “Dia de los enamorados” as “day of the in-loves,” but of course an even more direct translation would be “day of the enamoured.” And if someone is not enamoured with you then you don’t get any cards. (Don’t worry, mom, I didn’t get presents.) It’s okay because they have a different day for celebrating friendship. I guess in Paraguay you have to be really sure if you are in love with someone or just friends. In the church they make an announcement for couples even before they have a date picked for the wedding; if you are going to be involved with someone, it is going to be public and serious. So it seems within our church at least, dating doesn’t really exist, they just have really long engagement periods. There is no room for messing around, I guess.
My favourite time of day this week has been walking to school in the early morning silence, except for the occasional rooster. It reminds me of when I used to take the bus to school in the winter, not only because it is still dark at 6:15 here, but also because there is a spot of concrete in our yard that is cracking a bit and kind of sounds like the really thin ice that I liked to break while I was waiting, to keep my mind off of how cold I was. I haven’t even had to time to worry or complain about the heat lately, as I have been too distracted by teaching.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
I’m always afraid of writing my blog when I am feeling extreme emotions, because it is almost certain that I will write something that I later regret. So take into account that as I write this I am fairly tired and have just finished a day of teaching. It’s been one week now, and if nothing else at least every student by now should understand the words “sit down” and “be quiet.” I’ve written previously of the surprisingly bad behaviour of the Paraguayan students, but now I am experiencing it first-hand, four days a week, six classes a day, by myself. It seems like an amazing schedule to have Mondays free and finish by 4:10, but it feels like I spend all my spare time worrying about my classes or over-preparing or biting my nails or eating because I am so stressed. I know that the past four months have flown by, but I just can’t fathom teaching like this for another ten months.
One might ask, “why don’t you just go home?” Well first of all, the school needs me, at least until they could find another English teacher. Secondly, I am too proud to admit I couldn’t do it and I don’t want all of you who read my blog and have prayed for me and paid for me to be able to here to think I am a quitter. Thirdly, I said I would stay for one year, and I want to keep my promise. But I think most importantly, this is something I have to do if I want to be true to myself and what I believe. For five years I studied the Bible and learned what it means to be a Christian. I wrote papers about social justice, I listened to lectures about God’s kingdom, I spoke passionately about wanting to help others less fortunate than myself. Now I am in an excellent place to do that, and I am finding it very difficult and want to get out of it. But I know that if I can’t humble myself to teach the little kids, and give up my rights to a comfortable lifestyle, and serve the poor and oppressed in this place, I will never be able to. What I need now is not a change of circumstance, but the realization that there is something beautiful in a simple life of love and service, it is, indeed, the way of the kingdom of God. When Jesus was preaching in Nazareth, he read from the Isaiah scroll:
The Spirit of the Lord is on me
Because he has anointed me
To preach good news to the poor
He has sent me
To proclaim freedom to the captives
And recovery of sight to the blind
To set free the oppressed
To proclaim the year of the Lord’s favour.
And afterwards he said, “today as you listen, this scripture has been fulfilled.” Because Jesus came and he showed us how a person could be totally unselfish and love others more than himself. And so the kingdom of God began, and it continues everyday that I count these children worthy of learning English, of having a second chance, of having a better life. This kingdom is furthered everyday that we don’t just consider ourselves and our feelings and our own families, but we put that energy into serving others. And so I’ve convinced myself for now that I need to stay, although probably by this time tomorrow I will be feeling sorry for myself and want to go home again. I need your encouragement and your prayers, and I need all of you to join me in my attempt to make some kind of difference. I want not only to have the strength to persevere, I want to be doing this with joy. And just so you know, it brings me much joy to think of you and the love we have for each other. Thank you so much.
This blog is dedicated to my teachers who persevered for my sake, and who said all those words about God’s kingdom that only now I am beginning to understand. Every time I read Luke 3:4-6 I will be reminded of Dr. David Williams. And Amos 5:24 “but let justice flow like water, and righteousness like and unfailing stream,” will not make me think of Martin Luther King Jr. but rather of Tyler’s Williams introductory OT class.
One might ask, “why don’t you just go home?” Well first of all, the school needs me, at least until they could find another English teacher. Secondly, I am too proud to admit I couldn’t do it and I don’t want all of you who read my blog and have prayed for me and paid for me to be able to here to think I am a quitter. Thirdly, I said I would stay for one year, and I want to keep my promise. But I think most importantly, this is something I have to do if I want to be true to myself and what I believe. For five years I studied the Bible and learned what it means to be a Christian. I wrote papers about social justice, I listened to lectures about God’s kingdom, I spoke passionately about wanting to help others less fortunate than myself. Now I am in an excellent place to do that, and I am finding it very difficult and want to get out of it. But I know that if I can’t humble myself to teach the little kids, and give up my rights to a comfortable lifestyle, and serve the poor and oppressed in this place, I will never be able to. What I need now is not a change of circumstance, but the realization that there is something beautiful in a simple life of love and service, it is, indeed, the way of the kingdom of God. When Jesus was preaching in Nazareth, he read from the Isaiah scroll:
The Spirit of the Lord is on me
Because he has anointed me
To preach good news to the poor
He has sent me
To proclaim freedom to the captives
And recovery of sight to the blind
To set free the oppressed
To proclaim the year of the Lord’s favour.
And afterwards he said, “today as you listen, this scripture has been fulfilled.” Because Jesus came and he showed us how a person could be totally unselfish and love others more than himself. And so the kingdom of God began, and it continues everyday that I count these children worthy of learning English, of having a second chance, of having a better life. This kingdom is furthered everyday that we don’t just consider ourselves and our feelings and our own families, but we put that energy into serving others. And so I’ve convinced myself for now that I need to stay, although probably by this time tomorrow I will be feeling sorry for myself and want to go home again. I need your encouragement and your prayers, and I need all of you to join me in my attempt to make some kind of difference. I want not only to have the strength to persevere, I want to be doing this with joy. And just so you know, it brings me much joy to think of you and the love we have for each other. Thank you so much.
This blog is dedicated to my teachers who persevered for my sake, and who said all those words about God’s kingdom that only now I am beginning to understand. Every time I read Luke 3:4-6 I will be reminded of Dr. David Williams. And Amos 5:24 “but let justice flow like water, and righteousness like and unfailing stream,” will not make me think of Martin Luther King Jr. but rather of Tyler’s Williams introductory OT class.
Monday, February 05, 2007
On Friday I took the bus by myself for the first time, and I couldn’t have asked for a more adventurous journey. First I had to walk about 15 minutes just to get to the place where I catch the bus. It was about 5:30, when everyone was coming home from work, and the bus was so full that I could only get onto the first step. So there I was, hanging out the door, thankful to be free from the reek of body odour inside the bus, but hanging on for dear life as the driver dodged potholes, flew over speed bumps, and made abrupt stops. Eventually I was able to make my way to the rear of the bus, where it was more difficult to see where we were. I panicked and decided to get off and walk the rest of the way, which I figured couldn’t be that much farther. But it was. In flip-flops and the heat and carrying my bags, at least. Instead of paralyzing me however, this experience has given me a lot of confidence that given enough time, I can make it anywhere, and like Marlene says, the important thing is that I arrived.
I have written about being at Dario and Marlene’s house before, but I have to say again that they are really great hosts. So when Dario delivered a sermon on hospitality at church on Saturday night, I had no trouble trusting the messenger. The primary text was Genesis 18:1-8, and I feel inclined to give a synopsis. The story begins with Abraham sitting in the entrance of his tent during the heat of the day. I can envision Abraham as any one of the old Paraguayan men who sit in the shade in front of their house drinking terere between one and four in the afternoon. But when Abraham saw three strangers in the distance, he stood up and ran out to meet them and bowed to the ground. He begged them not to continue on until after they came to his house and washed their feet and rested under the tree. Genesis says he hurried into the tent and told his wife to quickly make some bread, then he ran and picked a choice calf and his servant hurried to prepare it, which Abraham served to his visitors with curds and milk. Two things are to be noted from Abraham’s hospitality: his alacrity and his generosity. Dario contrasted the spring in the step of old Abraham with the sluggish response of a teenager who has been asked to sweep the floor. He said “I will bring a bit of bread” but he brought out a feast. Imagine waiting while someone had to cook dinner starting with a live cow. I remembering Auntie Margret saying how generous my grandparents were and when a visitor showed up, grandma would go out into the yard and kill a chicken. This way, the chicken was being heated up before it even had time to cool down!!
In the end, Abraham found out that one of the visitors was the Lord, and I bet he was glad at that point that he didn’t just offer something from the candy dish. In Matthew 25 Jesus tells a story about how when the righteous people gave food and water to the hungry and took in strangers and clothed them or took care of sick people or visited people in prison, they were actually doing those things for the King, and to these hospitable people he grants eternal life. The Newsboys sing a catchy song based on Hebrews 13:2 which says “Don’t neglect to show hospitality, for by doing this some have welcomed angels as guests without knowing it.” And in Greek mythology we read about Bacchus and Philemon, who even though they are poor as dirt, offer all they have left to some raggedy-looking travelers, who in the end turn out to be divine guests. After their visitors leave, the old couple’s house turns into a mansion, they have a pitcher that contains nectar of the gods that never runs dry, and the inhospitable village down the road is turned into a lake from which they catch fish. They spend the rest of their lives serving the nectar and fish to guests, until they die on the same day and turn into trees that provide a shady resting place for weary travelers. Dario finished the sermon by saying that hospitality is actually a blessing to the host, as is demonstrated by all these stories that I just mentioned. God himself visits us, not just that one time at Christmas, but there is that familiar image of Jesus standing at the door and waiting to come in and be a blessing to anyone who is willing to invite him. I have been a recipient of much hospitality in Paraguay, and after that sermon I am especially inspired to open up my house to others. I mentioned in my blog before that I was looking for a different house, because ours is not only small and difficult to have company, but also expensive. The problem is that it is hard to find a good house in a safe place here. I finally contented myself with staying where we’re at, but I told my roommate we had talk to our landlady about the exorbitant rent. We were very nervous and prayed about it, telling God that we only wanted to pay a certain amount. And guess what? Not only did she lower our rent to that exact amount, she is also going to do some repairs and build an addition so that we have a living room. Some people have to travel a distance by bus to get to church and often I have sleepovers with some of the girls. My latest idea is at least once a month to invite all the young girls to my house, there are about 10 or so of us, on Saturday night. Our church is having a pretty exciting time in terms of youth events; Marlene and Karen started having all boys to their houses on Saturdays. Plus this Friday youth group starts, organized by Ben and Vivi. It’s nice for me to have so much stuff going on because when I am busy and spend so much time with people, I don’t just think about my family and get homesick. Hey! I just realized that today I have been in Paraguay for exactly 4 months. That is supposed to be the length of time it takes to feel comfortable speaking a new language. Good. Just in time for me to start teaching on Wednesday.
I dedicate this blog to Keith Freund who I think is a great host, who introduced me to using horseradish on veggie burgers, and who used to have a picture depicting Bacchus and Philemon as intertwining trees on his fridge.
I have written about being at Dario and Marlene’s house before, but I have to say again that they are really great hosts. So when Dario delivered a sermon on hospitality at church on Saturday night, I had no trouble trusting the messenger. The primary text was Genesis 18:1-8, and I feel inclined to give a synopsis. The story begins with Abraham sitting in the entrance of his tent during the heat of the day. I can envision Abraham as any one of the old Paraguayan men who sit in the shade in front of their house drinking terere between one and four in the afternoon. But when Abraham saw three strangers in the distance, he stood up and ran out to meet them and bowed to the ground. He begged them not to continue on until after they came to his house and washed their feet and rested under the tree. Genesis says he hurried into the tent and told his wife to quickly make some bread, then he ran and picked a choice calf and his servant hurried to prepare it, which Abraham served to his visitors with curds and milk. Two things are to be noted from Abraham’s hospitality: his alacrity and his generosity. Dario contrasted the spring in the step of old Abraham with the sluggish response of a teenager who has been asked to sweep the floor. He said “I will bring a bit of bread” but he brought out a feast. Imagine waiting while someone had to cook dinner starting with a live cow. I remembering Auntie Margret saying how generous my grandparents were and when a visitor showed up, grandma would go out into the yard and kill a chicken. This way, the chicken was being heated up before it even had time to cool down!!
In the end, Abraham found out that one of the visitors was the Lord, and I bet he was glad at that point that he didn’t just offer something from the candy dish. In Matthew 25 Jesus tells a story about how when the righteous people gave food and water to the hungry and took in strangers and clothed them or took care of sick people or visited people in prison, they were actually doing those things for the King, and to these hospitable people he grants eternal life. The Newsboys sing a catchy song based on Hebrews 13:2 which says “Don’t neglect to show hospitality, for by doing this some have welcomed angels as guests without knowing it.” And in Greek mythology we read about Bacchus and Philemon, who even though they are poor as dirt, offer all they have left to some raggedy-looking travelers, who in the end turn out to be divine guests. After their visitors leave, the old couple’s house turns into a mansion, they have a pitcher that contains nectar of the gods that never runs dry, and the inhospitable village down the road is turned into a lake from which they catch fish. They spend the rest of their lives serving the nectar and fish to guests, until they die on the same day and turn into trees that provide a shady resting place for weary travelers. Dario finished the sermon by saying that hospitality is actually a blessing to the host, as is demonstrated by all these stories that I just mentioned. God himself visits us, not just that one time at Christmas, but there is that familiar image of Jesus standing at the door and waiting to come in and be a blessing to anyone who is willing to invite him. I have been a recipient of much hospitality in Paraguay, and after that sermon I am especially inspired to open up my house to others. I mentioned in my blog before that I was looking for a different house, because ours is not only small and difficult to have company, but also expensive. The problem is that it is hard to find a good house in a safe place here. I finally contented myself with staying where we’re at, but I told my roommate we had talk to our landlady about the exorbitant rent. We were very nervous and prayed about it, telling God that we only wanted to pay a certain amount. And guess what? Not only did she lower our rent to that exact amount, she is also going to do some repairs and build an addition so that we have a living room. Some people have to travel a distance by bus to get to church and often I have sleepovers with some of the girls. My latest idea is at least once a month to invite all the young girls to my house, there are about 10 or so of us, on Saturday night. Our church is having a pretty exciting time in terms of youth events; Marlene and Karen started having all boys to their houses on Saturdays. Plus this Friday youth group starts, organized by Ben and Vivi. It’s nice for me to have so much stuff going on because when I am busy and spend so much time with people, I don’t just think about my family and get homesick. Hey! I just realized that today I have been in Paraguay for exactly 4 months. That is supposed to be the length of time it takes to feel comfortable speaking a new language. Good. Just in time for me to start teaching on Wednesday.
I dedicate this blog to Keith Freund who I think is a great host, who introduced me to using horseradish on veggie burgers, and who used to have a picture depicting Bacchus and Philemon as intertwining trees on his fridge.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
I feel like I haven’t written a blog for a very long time. Since I last wrote, I’ve passed my time being nervous about teaching, playing more ping-pong, trying to talk with people about more in-depth things like the history of the Jews, and learning about Dengue (I think that is how it’s spelled, and I’m pretty sure it is the same in English and Spanish.) There is a bit of an epidemic here, already seven people in Asunción have died. One lady in the church had it and she was pretty weak still on Sunday, almost two weeks after she got it, but is doing much better now. Monday was declared a national holiday in order for people to clean their homes, supposedly to prevent the dengue from spreading. The funny thing is that it actually comes from clean-water mosquitoes – probably someone just wanted to have the day off. I read once in Karen’s newsletter that she counted up the holidays and that Paraguay and the U.S. have the same amount. Not that I want to disagree with the wise woman who is my superior, but it seems to me like they have a lot more, and strange ones too: Day of the worker, a whole week for Easter, Day of the Founding of Asunción, Peace of the Chaco (a desert-like region with really salty earth and a whole bunch of Mennonites raise cattle), in addition to the normal ones like Independence day, and they actually take seriously the days for celebrating Friendship, Health, Trees and the national anthem. But before we judge the things other countries choose to take note of, I think all of us need to consider the significance of Groundhog Day. Over the last couple of days I’ve tried to explain the meaning of February Second in North American to some very confused people. In the first place, I have a real fat Spanish dictionary, but I don’t know if the Spanish-speaking world is aware of such an animal, which I have chosen to call a rat-type rodent that lives underground. Secondly, there is the problem that no matter if the groundhog sees his shadow or not, there will always be at least six more weeks of winter in Edmonton, and probably more like nine. Nevertheless, I still think “Groundhog Day” is a great movie. I would appreciate it if someone could tell me if there actually is one reliable groundhog and where the mythology for this day comes from.
The teachers returned to school today. It was very exciting to have lots of new people, because we needed to meet more requirements in order to have tenth grade. For example, there is even a psychology teacher that comes one day a week for two hours. I thought perhaps they must had a hard time finding her, but Karen said they had the most trouble with finding a Christian math teacher. So just a reminder that it would be nice if all Christians could spend four years studying religion and theology like me, but we really need Christian psychologists and politicians and architects and math teachers, people to be salt and light in all these fields that have so much influence in society. I haven’t talked to him yet, but I think my favourite new teacher will be the loud, skinny, six-and-half-foot-tall, ex-cab driver, history and social sciences teacher. He appears to be not only very intelligent but very lively, and enthusiastic about teaching. I am a bit stressed out of my brain because right now there are only 3 students in the kindergarten class I am teaching and I haven’t even gotten my schedule, but Ben reminded me that we are in Paraguay and not to worry because probably people will just decided to show up at the school on the first day to register their kids. For some grades we don’t even know yet if we will have one or two classes. Efficient-Ellen is going nuts over how we are going to be able to have the right number of textbooks and normal sized classes; it’s a good thing I have a lot of faith in our leadership and I was able to see the school running smoothly last year.
Speaking of efficiency, I feel like I spread a lot of my North American way of thinking this week. I taught Marcelo how to measure out the rope first to make the lines on a volleyball court as opposed to just eyeballing everything, I took a couple kids to the park one day and taught them about the woes of littering, and today over lunch I informed my roommate that Abraham Lincoln was not the first president of the “E.E.U.U.,” but rather it was a man named George Washington. Pardon me if it sounds like I am making fun of the way people do things here; Of course some things are really different, but some things they do much better. For instance, last night we had a snack after church, and instead of everyone lining up at the table, a few of the ladies walked around with plates of food. I enjoyed making the rounds and refilling pop because I could make chat with lots of people. I also think it is very efficient to share cups, and I like how they wash all the dishes first and rinse them all at once afterwards. Here you never have to walk more than one or two blocks to buy anything essential (in Paraguay, this includes empanadas, cooking oil, pop, cookies and yerba) because there is a store on almost every corner. In addition, there are guys that drive carts full of pineapples or mandioca and make their presence known with loudspeakers which distort their voice almost to the point of unrecognizable speech. (Today I asked for dos piñas and right away the man said “two!two!” in English, which proves Karen right that people can instantly tell I am not from here, “just from the way you walk” she says.) And of course the ice-cream man comes by every day with his whistle. I could easily survive within a three-block radius, which probably lots of people do when it’s just too hot to walk any distance.
Hmm...I guess I always have things to write about even when it didn’t seem like my week was so exciting. From now on I will probably have stories about kids doing really bad or really cute things in the classroom. Happy Groundhog Day everyone, and just so everyone knows, I do get homesick, but if I had make a choice, I want to be here looking out my window at the palm tree across the street and with my fan on and getting ready to be an English teacher, and right now leaving to go and get ice cream with my friends.
The teachers returned to school today. It was very exciting to have lots of new people, because we needed to meet more requirements in order to have tenth grade. For example, there is even a psychology teacher that comes one day a week for two hours. I thought perhaps they must had a hard time finding her, but Karen said they had the most trouble with finding a Christian math teacher. So just a reminder that it would be nice if all Christians could spend four years studying religion and theology like me, but we really need Christian psychologists and politicians and architects and math teachers, people to be salt and light in all these fields that have so much influence in society. I haven’t talked to him yet, but I think my favourite new teacher will be the loud, skinny, six-and-half-foot-tall, ex-cab driver, history and social sciences teacher. He appears to be not only very intelligent but very lively, and enthusiastic about teaching. I am a bit stressed out of my brain because right now there are only 3 students in the kindergarten class I am teaching and I haven’t even gotten my schedule, but Ben reminded me that we are in Paraguay and not to worry because probably people will just decided to show up at the school on the first day to register their kids. For some grades we don’t even know yet if we will have one or two classes. Efficient-Ellen is going nuts over how we are going to be able to have the right number of textbooks and normal sized classes; it’s a good thing I have a lot of faith in our leadership and I was able to see the school running smoothly last year.
Speaking of efficiency, I feel like I spread a lot of my North American way of thinking this week. I taught Marcelo how to measure out the rope first to make the lines on a volleyball court as opposed to just eyeballing everything, I took a couple kids to the park one day and taught them about the woes of littering, and today over lunch I informed my roommate that Abraham Lincoln was not the first president of the “E.E.U.U.,” but rather it was a man named George Washington. Pardon me if it sounds like I am making fun of the way people do things here; Of course some things are really different, but some things they do much better. For instance, last night we had a snack after church, and instead of everyone lining up at the table, a few of the ladies walked around with plates of food. I enjoyed making the rounds and refilling pop because I could make chat with lots of people. I also think it is very efficient to share cups, and I like how they wash all the dishes first and rinse them all at once afterwards. Here you never have to walk more than one or two blocks to buy anything essential (in Paraguay, this includes empanadas, cooking oil, pop, cookies and yerba) because there is a store on almost every corner. In addition, there are guys that drive carts full of pineapples or mandioca and make their presence known with loudspeakers which distort their voice almost to the point of unrecognizable speech. (Today I asked for dos piñas and right away the man said “two!two!” in English, which proves Karen right that people can instantly tell I am not from here, “just from the way you walk” she says.) And of course the ice-cream man comes by every day with his whistle. I could easily survive within a three-block radius, which probably lots of people do when it’s just too hot to walk any distance.
Hmm...I guess I always have things to write about even when it didn’t seem like my week was so exciting. From now on I will probably have stories about kids doing really bad or really cute things in the classroom. Happy Groundhog Day everyone, and just so everyone knows, I do get homesick, but if I had make a choice, I want to be here looking out my window at the palm tree across the street and with my fan on and getting ready to be an English teacher, and right now leaving to go and get ice cream with my friends.
