Sunday, June 20, 2010

A Life Poured Out



As you know, I've been living with sisters for almost a year now. I have been able to observe and take part in their daily routines, see their moments of humanity, and witness the sacrifice of their lives. They live by three vows; poverty, chastity, and obedience. The poverty is cool-- they are not obsessed with stuff, and although they are really good at getting cute shoes that match with cute handbags, they really don't bother with material things. A few months ago, one of our sisters moved to another place. She carried two suitcases-- one of books and the other of clothes. That was all.
The chastity-- well, when I see the way men are-- I don't think it's a big deal. After all, the sisters are not sitting at home with a bunch of cats and swooning over Harlequin romance novels. Sincerely, they don't seem to care much about men at all (although they have made some recommendations about who they think would be good for me-- don't worry, he was an American).
But the third, the most difficult one, is the obedience. Their lives are really poured out, broken. Not sold for the poor but poured only at the feet of Christ. They must really believe that He is and that He is God or else it would seem such a waste. They can never recover the years they have spent. They cannot choose their careers, or where they will be. They must do what the order tells them even if it is very difficult. One sister who used to be a principal in her past assignment is serving as a primary teacher now and must put up with her school's poor administration even though she knows she could do it better. Another has a hard time with the local language and the people (she is from a different region), but must stick it out here.

These women have offered their lives as a fragrance to God. We may see this and call it a waste. We may wonder whether their talents would be better used elsewhere. But really, if they were not sisters, who would they be living for? Themselves? Would that be so much better?


Yes, sisters are people. They eat sugarcane. They iron their habits. We dance, we sing, we tell stories around the dinner table. In communities where they have tv, some watch soap operas. But in the end of the day, at the back of the mind, there is a meditation, a reflectiveness, a purity. They are never very far from Christ.

Monday, June 14, 2010

Veni Sanctus Spiritus


The other week, Pentecost Sunday came, with a late night vigil and silence, followed by praying in tongues, shouting, and dancing. What impressed me was the unity I saw and that I continue to see in the Catholic Church. Those who did pray in tongues were free, as were those who didn't. Those who didn't dance and shout had patience for the extra hours we spent in church waiting for those who did. At such moments, people used to say they felt God's presence. I never knew what they meant, but I know that God was there in the unity different people had with each other.
Similarly, last weekend, Sister Margaret and I were in Kanoni. A small trading center (smaller than my home trading center) with a smaller church, we went to organize a men's group. We arrived on Saturday at 10:30 AM. Two old men were present. Soon, two younger men came. We waited to begin until 12:00 when we realized that no one else was coming. After talking about the purpose of the organization and doing a group session on the culture of manhood, its' positive impacts, and it's negative possibilities, we had lunch. It was 3:30 pm. We then walked around town visiting people and began our next session with the men at 5:00pm.
At the strengths and needs session that was done afterwards, the Holy Spirit came. No one was praying or dancing or shouting. Instead, more importantly, there was an incredible unity. The man who was an expert farmer was identified, as was the business man. The farmer stated that he had no market for his crops, the business man identified other, more profitable produce options. The farmer knew of improved growing methods. The following day, both men helped one of the old men to prune his banana and coffee plantations then they agreed to continue helping him. The teacher took notes and the following day, came to my trading center to fill out the forms. Yes, only four men, but there was another one there. One that gave them such unity, such strength in their togetherness that they can do great things. This weekend, in a banana plantation with four men pruning trees, the Holy Spirit came, and I can tell you that He was there.

Thursday, June 10, 2010

Stupid


I feel so stupid, and it is the best way to feel. I am spending a week in Kampala with five other Peace Corps volunteers evaluating our program and training. When I joined Peace Corps, I thought I would be surrounded by people just finishing BAs with no knowledge about the broader world. How wrong I was. In this series of meetings, I felt the same way I did in ninth grade biology, in AP English, and in my first semester of grad. school—stupid. Not only are there some amazing credentials here—one Harvard biochemistry Ph.D., one former pro baseball player, one rising entrepreneur, several competent engineers and nurses; in short-- several people much more well informed about the world than I. In the past, when I knew I was behind, dug in my heels and really worked. It was during those times that I learned and grew the most. Yeah, my pride might have been hurt and my self- confidence questioned, metamorphosis pains. I don’t want to be at a place where I don’t feel challenged, where I am the smartest. I’ve had those too—glass aquariums, they limited my environment, my perspective, stunting and retarding. In short, I am stupid, and hope I never change.

Human


One of the biggest compliments that Sister Delphine can give a person is that “S/he was so human.” This threw me a few times until I learned that she meant humane. Either way, however, it has been a challenge. It is so easy to become consumed in oneself, even for a Peace Corps volunteer. In fact, even though they are supposed to be engaged in international service, most PCV’s (myself included) have difficulty going out of their way in the slightest manner for someone else. After being walked home by some very kind fellow volunteers last night, the same people that helped me to find a bike and have gone out of their ways multiple times, I thought about the importance of humanity in life. Even here, even in Peace Corps, it is necessary to question, what are my motivations? Who am I living for? Do I love my neighbor as myself?
The most giving, selfless volunteers are not the most outgoing or popular ones, but those that have only a few good friends. I have about three close Peace Corps friends, and I used to think I was being very hostile to everyone else. I cannot, however, be “human” to all the other PCV’s (about 200 in country), but I can focus on those few friends. After all, I am human!