To Be a Witness…

…does not consist in engaging in propaganda, nor even in stirring people up, but in being a living mystery. It means to line in such a way that one’s life would not make sense if God did not exist.” ~Emmanuel Suhard

One of the hardest parts of being down here is surprisingly not the language but my situation with religion. This might come out like a personal vendetta but no matter, it has a happy ending. I came down here to teach and to really get to know the people here on a “sociological” and personal level. The whole breaking out of the comfort zone, traveling, learning a new language aspects are definitely added bonuses but like I said, my real reason is to know the people. The “men and women for others” idea never seemed so real. I guess that’s the Jesuitness in my head. I never really considered myself one for the whole faith community idea…I never really wanted to go on retreats or talk about God too much. It’s always been MY thing. But suddenly, I’m here and there isn’t a really cool priest living downstairs, no Liturgy Arts group, no ten minute sign of peace and suddenly I’m realizing that I actually miss that community.

The first real religious feeling I got here was coming back from the jungle. I saw a lot of canoes belonging to the Quichua families along the banks of the river. The scene of all these canoes tossing around the morning after a big storm was somehow inspiring. I started inadvertently humming a hymn that I conveniently forget the title of. The lyrics are “Señor, me has mirado mis ojos. Sonriendo, has dicho mi nombre. En la arena, he dejado mi barco. Junto a ti, buscaré otro mar.” (En inglés: “Lord, in my eyes you were gazing. Kindly smiling, my name you were calling. All my treasures I have left on the sand there. Close to you, I will find other seas.” The direct translation of the third line that really struck me is “In the rocks, I have left my boat.”) It was a really moving experience and I posted a picture that I made to remember it. End flashback.

Sunday, Bruce told me about a really cool Mass he went to the week before so he, Jenna and I went with my family that evening. Of course, in keeping with the language barrier theme, we ended up going to the wrong church. Well, I guess God’s a little tricky sometimes. In a church that usually uses a CD of church songs with lyrics like “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus es Señor” repeated forty times, they played the same song from the jungle. As sarcastic and cynical as I come off sometimes, I really feel it was a sign. That song, the first time I was able to go to Mass with friends, the first time I could share the kiss of peace with people I know (and yes, here it is a kiss. That took a little extra coordination.) All in all, it was just a wonderful, peaceful, content feeling. So that was my moving religious experience.

Looking back, this entry is a little heavy but so it goes. Naturally, you’re welcome to take it, leave it, think about it, ask about it or ignore it. Just tossing some thoughts out there. To finish this one off, the following is a reflection from my service trip to Jamaica last spring break.

"More and more the desire grows in me simply to walk around, greet people, enter their homes, sit on their doorsteps, play ball and be known as someone who simply wants to live with them. It is a privilege to have the time to practice this simple ministry of presence. Still, it is not as simple as it seems. My own desire to be useful, to do something significant, or to be a part of some impressive project is so strong that soon my time is taken up by meetings, conferences, study groups and workshops that prevent me from walking the streets. It is difficult not to have plans, not to organize people around an urgent cause, and not to feel that you are working directly for social progress. But I wonder more and more if the first thing shouldn’t be to know people by name, to eat and drink with them, to listen to their stories and tell your own, and to let them know with words, handshakes and hugs that you do not simply like them, but you truly love them."
~Henri Nouwen “Gracias”