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What are people for?

April 1, 2009 | posted by Lars under lent, mexico, reflections | Comments (4)

This reflection based on Mark 12:20-33 was first published on EMU’s Lenten Reflections ‘blog.

As I’ve traveled through Mexico over the past several weeks, I haven’t been able to get the idea of self-sacrifice and self-sacrificial love out of my mind & soul. There are many ways this text interacts with my recent experiences, but this seems to stand in stark contrast to the rest. It’s so contrary to any other voice in the history of the world, and it nestles itself right at the core of the Gospel.

I’ve seen huge Aztec temples built and inaugurated with the sacrifices of thousands of laborers and captive warriors; read of massive corporate riches amassed at the cost of millions of people’s pensions and retirement funds; and participated in the incredible luxury afforded to those at the core of the developed world while those at the periphery sew it together and move from home to the ‘misery belts,’ or try to fight their way closer to the core. Where did we ever get the idea that this is what people are for? Did we somehow forget that we, too, are human?

Jesus seems intent to remind us what it means to be truly human. He compares humans and their lives to seeds, whose sole purpose it is to give their all to allow for new life to spring forth. That’s the biology of a seed: it comes with just enough energy for germination, and when that is done, its job is over.

Jesus says in his own baffling way that that’s the essence of the glory of the Son of Man - the truly Human One. He says, in the words of Eminem, “Just lose it.” As he speaks, he’s not without fear, but he knows - as the voice from the reiterates - that his glorification will continue throughout future generations. Love can lead in no other way. This will be both the eternal glory of humanity and the unending shame of “the prince of this world.”

It’s the perfect culmination of the process of selflessness. The world cannot understand a life devoted entirely to Shalom, and so exposes its own lack by raising up - by crucifying - Love. Yet, we have no room for indignation. It is we who have not understood; it is we who have set the nails to Christ’s body. We, the residents of this world, must live - for now - in this twilight. We must recognize our complicity in both the evil and the holiness of this world. For, if we are willing, it will be the soil of our transformation.

LORD God –
We await Your Spirit
of Patience, as we live with ourselves, both holy and detestable; and
of Humility, as we offer ourselves daily, by Your love, to Your world.
Open our eyes,
that we may see Your color and design in ourselves.
Unstop our ears,
that we may hear Your melody and harmonies in the world in which we live.
For it is by Your Son that we are healed,
Amen.

People of … Maseca?

March 30, 2009 | posted by Lars under guatemala, lent, mexico, reflections | Comments (6)

In Central America, the tortilla is more than just a food staple, it’s a way of life.  Corn has been cultivated in the region since before the first European encounter; according to the Maya creation story, humans are literally “people of corn” - it was from corn, not soil, that God formed the first beings.  Traveling in culture with this collective history, when eating the occasional tortilla-less meal, Jon and I have been asked if we want any, because for many, if tortillas aren’t present, you haven’t eaten.

As a result, tortillerías - or tortilla ‘bakeries’ - are everywhere.  I remember from my cross-cultural semester in Guatemala the sound of the women in these shops patting out the dough by hand over the comal and a low-burning fire.  Fresh tortillas, made at home or in one of these corner stores, were present at most meals.

But throughout Mexico, the picture was different.  There was no light clapping overflowing into the streets, only the faint whirr of the occasional tortilla machine and the painted Maseca logo on the outside of the store.  “Quality & Consistency,” they promised - a promise as valid in southern Mexico as it is in Harrisonburg, Virginia, where you can also buy the flour.  Three years ago in Guatemala, the corn for tortillas had come from the farms in the countryside and was made into nixtamal (or hominy, an intermediate step in making tortilla dough, a process which incidentally enriches the corn with essential nutrients) in the same neighborhood where it was eaten.  There had been no national corn processing company so prominent as Maseca; that was the work of many smaller-scale farmers and corn processers.

Our last evening in Mexico, I asked our host, a restaurant owner and partner with INESIN, about Maseca.  Sometime in the past, tortillas must have been made by hand in Mexico, and now they’re not.  I had my strong suspicions that the shift was connected to the 1994 beginning of subsidized corn imports from the United States through NAFTA, but I wanted to hear the story.

The change in her town began “somewhere around ten years ago,” she told us, when it became cheaper to buy the 20 kg. bags of ground corn than to grow and process the corn grown locally.  She emphasized that the taste of tortillas made with Maseca is notably more bland; but since farmers have stopped sowing corn because they can’t get a good price for it anymore, they’re becoming the only option.

Regardless of the reason, for a culture so closely connected to cultivating and consuming corn, this is a significant shift.  Clearly it has implications for farmers who no longer are able to farm; but what happens to a culture which once understood their Creator through their work and food when those are exported and imported?  How is the health of a people affected when the staple of every meal contains more starch and fewer necessary nutrients?  Increased diabetes rates may be the simplest of the outcomes.

In Guatemala, I still hear tortillas being made; but then again, CAFTA is still very young.

Thought kernels:  Where do we fit into this picture?  Where do we find our identity?  How do we understand our God?

Can we just get along?

March 25, 2009 | posted by Lars under lent, mexico, reflections, updates | Comments (7)

If you’ve been following our route map recently, you’ve noticed that we’ve made some tracks, and regardless, we’ve had a recent drought of postings.  We’re doing fine, and Jon’s bike is back on the road, we just haven’t had the internet access or energy (we’ve been in southern Mexico and Guatemala, after all!) to post.  We’re now in Guatemala City at SEMILLA, the Anabaptist seminary here, but the past two weeks are worth some collective thought, so we’ll take it in steps.

While in San Cristóbal de las Casas (Chiapas, México), we stayed at INESIN (Institute for Intercultural Studies and Investigation), an ecumenical Christian center which promotes peace in Chiapas through intercultural and interreligious dialogue.  It’s important work in a region as torn as Chiapas has become - the religious landscape shows some of these, with Christianity, both Roman Catholic and ‘evangelical’ - neither of which recognizes the other as ‘Christian’ - and pantheism, woven deeply into the fabric of many indigenous communities.  Add in politics, community organizations, international missionaries & corporations, and indigenous rights movements and it’s a picture which demands more historical background to be even marginally understood.

Geographically, the state of Chiapas lies on Mexico’s southern border with Guatemala, is about half coastal plain and half rugged, heavily forested mountains, and contains nearly 40% of Mexico’s water resources.  Thanks in part to these mountains, for several centuries after the Spanish conquest and into Mexican statehood the large indigenous population of Chiapas (which shares more common history & culture with indigenous Guatemalans than with those in the rest of Mexico) remained largely unified - poor and Catholic - and voted as a single block, as well.  Over the past century or so however, foreign missionaries, strong community leaders, movements for land reform, the introduction of a multi-party political system, and the Zapatista National Liberation Army splintered the state - and its communities - along so many deeply inflamed conviction-etched lines that in many places communities exiled their members who believed differently than the majority, leading to at least 400,000 internally displaced persons in Chiapas in the mid-1990s - fully 10% of the entire state.  Military massacres throughout the ’90s in response to the Zapatistas’ uprising in 1994 (when they demanded what had been promised but not given to the indigenous peoples for centuries) contributed to increased instability and distrust, and brought the perfect storm into the international spotlight.  All the while, the government signs away rights to the region’s biodiversity and plentiful water to multinational pharmaceutical and bottling corporations.

While the situation now has cooled enough that people aren’t dying, the divisions still run deep and painful.  It’s in this context that INESIN operates, offering workshops in their facility and in communities, allowing people to study the Bible and get to know each other in a setting not aligned with one political party or denomination, and teaching elements of sustainable agriculture, conflict transformation, and prevention of family & gender violence to interested community members.  It’s a small effort, rooted in the community and led by a handful of chiapeños and international volunteers (including a couple with MCC), but it’s been a while since I’ve seen something truly worthwhile happen fast.  Maybe someday, community by community, Chiapas will celebrate and find strength in its diversity.

Maybe someday, the church, too, will find similar strength and reason to celebrate.  “We all have strengths,” director Martín Guerrero reminded a group while we were there, “we at INESIN don’t believe that the many churches should lose their identity to be one church - it’s that diversity reminds us of the many forms of God’s grace.”  Their message seemed clear: ecumenical doesn’t mean floating in and out of whatever church serves your needs - it means being rooted and it means finding common roots; it means being able to celebrate and learn from the unique ways each community of faith follows Jesus Christ.  It means the hard work of learning to live together.

But this is our work.

“In the name of…”

March 4, 2009 | posted by Jon under lent, mexico, updates | Comments (11)

As a quick orientation to time and space, Lars and I now find ourselves in Mexico City, MX, where we have been staying since this past Saturday.  We are being hosted by two Mennonite Church communities nestled in the sprawling complex of buildings and traffic that calls itself Mexico City.  Our first stay was coordinated by Ofelia Garcia, a pastor and coordinator of all things Mennonite here in Mexico City.  We stayed with families associated with Pueblo en Transformacion, a Mennonite church she pastored until recently, when her son and another young man took over the pastoral roles. 

We were fortunate enough to be able to worship with this community of 40 on Sunday; attending a bible study, worship service, and then a potluck complete with a birthday cake for Lars.  On Monday we left for another church community, and were met by the pastor of Iglesia Christiana de Paz (an interesting group of church communities affiliated with the Mennonite Church both in the US and in Mexico), Mario Lopez, and his family, whom we have been staying with since Monday evening.  

Since arriving on Saturday afternoon, our time in Mexico has given us much to think about.  First, the city itself.  Mexico City is huge, a whirlwind of people, cultures, traditions, traffic, smog, and buildings, all constantly mixing in what seems like a large vat rimmed by mountain ridges.  Built on top of what was Tenotichtlan, an Aztec metropolis, one could say that the terrain Mexico City was built on ground that has almost always been populated, and unfortunately, contested. 

No one tells the story of this transition from indiginous prosperity to Spanish dominance better than Diego Rivera in his murals on the walls of Palacio Nacional in downtown Mexico City.  Rivera depicts the Spanish Conquistadors as deformed, almost demon-like suppressors of Aztec prominence, and it is hard not to agree with him when viewing his murals.  Most poignant was Rivera’s usage of the cross in his murals…especially in scenes of conquistadors branding and baptizing Aztecs under said symbol.

These images caused me to stop and think about Christianity today (NOT the magazine).  Sure the times, cultures, and religions are different today, but are the worldwide perceptions of Christianity really that much better?  Aren’t there still things being done currently in the name of Christianity in the broadest sense that we are ashamed of (think Iraq war…)?  How can we, as Christians, work to change such perceptions? 

I don’t mean to be critical or the writer of Doomsday Daily, but I do think it is important to think about how the larger world views the way we do things, especially when it is “in the name of something.”  I think we need to be careful when charging forward “in the name of”…be it Christianity, Progress, or even the Common Good. 

The small Spanish outpost that once stood atop a smoldering Tenotichtlan has grown into one of the largest cities in the world, with little room to expand, originally in the name of God, Gold, and Glory.  What is the future of Mexico City?  Is growth and expansion always best?  Is it the way we are taught or meant to live?  What would Christ have to say to the Aztecs? The Spanish Conquistadors?  To us today?  All questions to ponder…”in the name of” careful, prayerful discernment. 

Wandering in the Wilderness

February 27, 2009 | posted by Lars under lent, mexico, reflections | Comments (16)

Two days ago, in San Luis Potosí, we marked Ash Wednesday, the beginning of a new season in the church year - Lent. For many of those in the Roman Catholic majority, the day was the beginning of a time of fasting, marked by ashes on the forehead from the hand of the priest. (Paradoxically, it was also the day of a late-night carnival downtown…) The day was a significant milestone for us in our journey for several reasons, as well. From setting out on January 6, we had been on the road for 50 days prior to Wednesday. We began our journey on Epiphany, the day celebrating the visit of the magi to the newborn Jesus. It’s a day and a season, it seems, where the gold & incense play a secondary - if allusive - part to the realization that even as an infant, Christ has come as “a light to all nations,” and that even in its infancy, His reign is one which turns power on its head, distressing a grown king at the birth of a peasant boy, and causing wise men to travel thousands of miles to visit this boy. In the season of Epiphany, we celebrated not just the mystery of God incarnate, but the revelation that this Savior is for all the world and presents a very different reign than this world can comprehend.

Now, after a quick slip in to Ordinary Time, we find ourselves in Lent, the 40-day season preceding Easter. Forty days, like the years of the Israelites’ wanderings and the duration of Christ’s fasting and temptations. It’s a time to remember our own humanity, our own weakness; a time to wander into our own deserts with God, so that He may also lead us out. It’s a time to find our wounds and press into them, make them hurt, make them bleed, so that we are prepared to be healed by Jesus’ own wounds and blood. The healing is certain - we will be made whole - but first we must prepare ourselves by probing deeply into our need.

So, we wander (we hope more metaphorically than physically) in order to explore our humanity and our brokenness, in order to be tempted by apothecaries who promise remedies other than that of the Healer. During this season, Jon & I have decided to allow for at least 15 minutes of silence for prayer before setting out each day as we embark on this journey through Lent, knowing that before we arrive at Easter in Managua, God will lead us through the wilderness, through our own wretchedness, to the brutality of the passion and beyond, so that we, with Christ, may experience the resurrection from the dead.

Thirty-seven days to Managua.

Thought kernels (thoughts from the past several days): • How do I measure time, and how does that point to what I value? What ‘calendars’ do I use? • What are my wildernesses?