Thanksgiving Day

   Off to the supermarket to pick up a couple of last minute additions to my contribution to Thanksgiving dinner, I decided to walk rather than drive in order to fully enjoy the beautiful day. The sun was out and a strong breeze made the nearly 90-degree temperature feel quite comfortable - thankful. As I walked, I thought about all that was surely taking place in the homes of my family and friends in the United States: ovens preheating, turkeys brining, pies baking, family members traveling, pets scrambling to find a solitary place among the numerous visitors or trying to avoid being stepped on, refusing to leave the kitchen, waiting for the inevitable scrap of food to hit the floor. I thought about the smiles and laughter, the nicknames and inside jokes that only family and close friends share. I thought about the cups of coffee, now taken with a splash of eggnog, as the oldest and the youngest (and some in between) find a comfy place to snooze after the meal – thankful. And, I thought about the friends with whom I would share a meal this evening, the North Americans and Salvadorans who have become like my family over the last two years in El Salvador. I thought about how amazing it is to have developed this community and what a blessing it will be to celebrate together by giving thanks.

   

 Entering the supermarket I half-way expected the lines and the urgency associated with obtaining last minute menu items at one of the few grocery stores open on Turkey Day in the States. I was pleasantly surprised to find the “super” no busier than any other Thursday. Usually I try to avoid the canned food and import aisles, forcing myself to cook with fresh vegetables and local ingredients. However, in honor of the holiday, I had given myself permission to seek out the fixings for my beloved green bean casserole…wherever they might be. Milk and mushroom soup mix were easy to track down, and I had pretty much resigned myself to the fact that French fried onions would have to be improvised, but to my shock and disbelief canned green beans were nowhere to be found. I chuckled to myself as I placed a bag of locally-grown ejotes (green beans) into my basket. Evidently, food sovereignty doesn’t take holidays – thankful.

   

 After the customary looks of confusion at check-out as I request that my groceries be loaded into the cloth sacks I bring with me rather than plastic bags, I made my way to the exit. I contemplated the additional steps that my favorite Thanksgiving dish would now require as I crossed through the parking lot and out to the street to walk the five blocks back to my house. As I passed the bus stop I was pulled out of my daydream of pumpkin pie and cranberry sauce and thrust back into reality.

  

 A young woman had just gotten off the the bus with her daughter in tow. As they shuffled toward the corner the woman was approached by a kid in his teens, held up with what may or may not have been a pistol in his pocket, and had her wallet and cell phone stolen. All this took place in matter of seconds, in broad daylight, at a busy intersection, and right in front of me! I was in shock; I can’t imagine what the young woman must have been feeling. Seemingly unshaken, the young mother scooped up her daughter and wrapped her in a tight embrace. Unsure of just what kind of assistance I might offer in a moment like this, I decided I had to at least ask if or how I could help. As I got closer I overheard the little girl asking her mother; Mami, ¿y ahora qué hacemos? “Mommy, what do we do now?” I will never forget her reply: Damos gracias, mi amor, damos gracias. We give thanks, my love, we give thanks.

   

 Not because today is Thanksgiving, not because this day has been set apart that we might remind ourselves of all the blessings in our lives for which we are grateful. Today we give thanks because every day is a gift, especially if it is spent with those whom we love and care about the most. We give thanks because we trust in the hope that God is making all things new, and we give thanks for the opportunity to work with God and with one another to bring about that long-awaited day.

   

 This Thanksgiving I give thanks for being in the wrong place at the right time. I give thanks that a cell phone call and taxi fare helped allow this family to regain a little peace of mind. And tonight at dinner I will give thanks for yams without marshmallows knowing that the marshmallows I bought went to a better cause.

HAPPY TURKEY DAY

¹⁶ Be joyful always, ¹⁷ pray at all times, ¹⁸ be thankful in all circumstances. This is what God wants from you in your life in union with Christ Jesus.               1Thessalonians 5:16-18 

El Salvador in State of Emergency

Enjoying a relatively quiet and typical winter, Salvadorans were already dreaming of the cool, breezy months of November and December, and then the summer days beyond. Across the country, the May or “summer” harvest was solid. Though many had to scramble and purchase expensive bean seed to plant the year’s second crop season, due to losses sustained during last year’s late winter storms, hopes were high and the climate seemed promising. I had even begun to hear folks saying, “yep, winter has come to an end”.

Anyone who was thinking along those lines has certainly since changed their mind. Constant, heavy rains related to Pacific Hurricane Jova have drenched El Salvador for more than a week now, beginning last weekend and predicted to continue through Wednesday. President Mauricio Funes addressed the nation Friday, declaring a national state of emergency. As of this morning, fourteen people have lost their lives, hundreds have lost their homes, and thousands have lost livestock and crops that are their livelihood. More than 13,000 men, women and children have been evacuated from their homes and are receiving attention in one of close to 200 schools, churches and other temporary centers meagerly equipped and staffed to provide food, bedding, clothes and medical attention to evacuees.

I have spent the last three days trying to reach friends and colleagues in the communities by phone. When the grid is not flooded and the calls go through, for the most part I have been relieved by what I have heard. In many places people are still at home, with their families, safe and relatively dry. In other places families have been moved into shelters, and while it is not the most comfortable of accommodations, they too are content to be safe and dry. As of yesterday in most of the Joining Hands communities 4x4 vehicles were still able to get in and out, and there had not been severe landslides or flooding reported. However, last night the situation went from bad to worse. The bridge on the main highway connecting the central and western regions of El Salvador has collapsed, and the secondary route is being closed intermittently in order to clear away reoccurring mudslides, making mobilization of people and aid to and from the most devastated areas nearly impossible.

Eleven of El Salvador’s fourteen Departments, or Provinces, are on “Red Alert”. All community activities, including classes, sporting events, even worship services have been suspended and people are being advised to stay inside if possible. While I am safe and dry, aside from a few leaks in the ceiling, here in San Salvador and as in other urban centers, many homes and livelihoods are at risk.

The rain has lessened for the moment, from torrential downpours to light but steady showers as we transition from one storm to another. From San Salvador, I am trying to maintain communication with all our partner churches and organizations and their communities to keep our information as up-to-date as possible. Since in many places the conditions of even the main roads is not clear, at this point it is not wise to venture out to these communities to see for ourselves. This, for me, is one of the most difficult things to accept in these situations and at times the helplessness seems almost unbearable.

Our hope is to be able to reach out to some of these communities with emergency food and water rations tomorrow. There is a well coordinated effort on behalf of the government, the Red Cross and other relief organizations to meet the most urgent needs of the people, but they too are working with limited resources and as tends to happen under these circumstances, many donated items sit in storage or get siphoned off and those needs are not met.

Please join me in prayer for the people of El Salvador and throughout Central America as we continue to weather this storm. The recovery and rebuilding phase will be even more challenging and costly, but we have faith that “Dios es grande”, God is great, and is with us every step of the way, just as we accompany others.

El Salvadoran Government & Social Movements Say No to Monsanto | | AlterNet

Exciting steps toward FOOD SOVEREIGNTY and SECURITY in El Salvador! 


Along with other representatives of the Joining Hands Network - El Salvador, I hope to travel to Usulután to meet with members of the Mangrove Association to learn more about their efforts and to discuss ways we might collaborate.


El Salvadoran Government & Social Movements Say No to Monsanto | | AlterNet
 By Carlos Martinez

On the morning of Friday, May 6th President Mauricio Funes of El Salvador’s left-wing FMLN party, arrived at the La Maroma agricultural cooperative in the department of Usulután for a potentially historic meeting with hundreds of small family farmers. Usulután has often been referred to as the country’s bread basket for its fertile soil and capacity for agricultural production, making it one of the most strategic and violent battleground zones during El Salvador’s twelve year civil war between the US-supported government and the FMLN guerrilla movement.

Once again, Usulután has entered the spotlight for its agricultural reputation. The FMLN, which initially formed around an ideology of national liberation from US hegemony, has now adopted the goal of “food sovereignty,” the idea that countries hold the right to define their own agricultural policies, rather than being subject to the whims of international market forces. On Friday, officials representing the Ministry of Agriculture and the local governorship accompanied President Funes in inaugurating a new plan aimed at reactivating the country’s historically ignored rural economy and reversing El Salvador’s growing dependence on imported grains.

The opening ceremony for the new plan was hosted by the Mangrove Association, a non-governmental organization established by members of a grassroots social movement called La Coordinadora del Bajo Lempa y Bahia de Jiquilisco (known locally as La Coordinadora), which has been supporting initiatives for food security and environmental sustainability in Usulután for over 15 years. Over the last three months, the Ministry of Agriculture has been working closely with the Mangrove Association and other campesino organizations to develop what may represent the new program’s greatest break from past governments’ agricultural policies: a goal that by 2014 all corn and bean seed needed for agriculture be produced by Salvadoran farmers, rather than purchased from multinational seed companies, namely Monsanto, as has been the case in recent years.

With ongoing support from the U.S.-based NGO EcoViva, La Coordinadora and the Mangrove Association have been working since the mid-1990s to promote diversified, sustainable agriculture for small family farmers in Usulután as a means for reducing hunger and building a strong rural economy. According to official figures, almost 95% of fruit and vegetables consumed in El Salvador are imported from abroad, along with 30% of all its beans and 40% of corn. Meanwhile, non-commercial small family farmers are said to produce up to 70% of the basic grains that are cultivated domestically, mostly for their own family’s consumption, making them particularly important for El Salvador’s food security...

FOLLOW THE LINK TO READ MORE!

A lesson in Community

Beautiful views as seen from the trail

Imagine with me if you will, the toughest hike you have ever been on. Now imagine it were twice as long, add in several rocky switchbacks, and envision it twice as steep. This describes the trail leading down into the community of El Cuzuquito. Some of the most breathtaking views of Salvadoran landscape can be glimpsed as you stop to, well, catch your breath. 

If you look closely and you can see the ocean in the distance

El Cuzuquito, made up of about 20 families living in very humble accommodations without electricity or running water, is one of numerous communities in similar conditions in the surrounding area. But there is something that makes this community unique: food sovereignty, that is to say that while 95% of the fruits and vegetables consumed in El Salvador come in from outside the country this community is able to grow and raise what they eat and do not have to depend upon expensive imported food from other sources. It's a good thing too, could you imagine toting groceries down that hill?!?

Ricardo sharing his wisdom

 In this community there is a young man by the name of Ricardo who literally began his schooling below the branches of a mango tree, before the school building was built just 10 years ago. He does not have any advanced degrees, in fact he does not even have a diploma, but Ricardo uses his natural leadership and knowledge of the land to organize his community to the benefit of all. Recognizing the serious food crisis the community was experiencing, he organized folks to approach a local landowner and present him with a plan to cultivate three parcels of land as community gardens. Rather than divide up the land and offer plots to each individual family, the community decided it made more sense to work the land together. What about competition, what about struggles for individual success? When asked, one gentleman responded, “It’s much more beneficial to do it this way, I could never cultivate all this on my own! When we have to water, we water together, when it’s time to harvest, we harvest together, and what I don’t know about growing a certain herb or vegetable I can learn from a neighbor, and he from me.”

Green beans thriving in
one of the community plots

The gardens continue to be a community success, and as Ricardo has continued to educate himself about food and nutrition he realized that their diets were lacking in protein. By assessing the resources in the community he came up with an idea to use water from the natural spring nearby, and labor from the community to dig and fill ponds to raise Tilapia, a very hearty and tasty fish. Families in the community, having benefited from the gardens, agreed to contribute to the purchase of tubing to pipe in the water and to buy the fish and feed needed to start up. They have sought out training from the Ministry of Agriculture, and are now experimenting with native, organically raised fish “[quote] out of concern for the health of the community and prevent their children from ingesting so many harmful chemicals.”

How do we live in community? Do we celebrate only activity, success, profit and progress? Or do we relate to one another in such a way as to identify ourselves with a loving, liberating, welcoming and empowering God, a God who rejoices with those who rejoice and weeps with those who weep, who feeds and quenches the thirst of even those who are considered enemies? A God who overcame evil through the sacrifice of God’s son, and continues to speak to us through community and provide us with examples of how we might conquer evil with good!

Community members who work together in the gardens

We are made for community. Since the beginning of time people have formed themselves into clans and tribes. Our identity comes from community. We cannot find our identity in isolation. Esteem grows in community, accomplishment occurs through community. The acronym for the word “team” is together everyone accomplishes more. This is why the Apostle Paul, in his letter to the Romans (12:9-21), goes out of his way to lay out in detail how we, who identify ourselves as Christians, are to relate to one another in and beyond our communities. Even if it seems at odds with the gods of this world.

In the face of astonishing economic disparities, and global conflicts of all kinds, solo voices can be inspiring, but ultimately only communities, united by integrity of purpose, can truly incite change as they speak for the marginalized, promote better public policy, and work for justice. My prayers for all of us is that we might live in true community; to bless everybody, to live and serve humbly and joyfully, to go the extra mile for anybody, and to always strive for peace. Amen.

Relationships or Results?

I feel like I should begin by asking forgiveness for the lack of communication over the past few months. Some of you were probably thinking I had given up Newsletters for Lent! While that was not my intention, I did allow myself to slip into a safe, reflective space over the last several weeks. 

As I reviewed pictures from my recent visits to communities I came across the photo above of a Lenten banner hanging in the cathedral in Santa María Ostuma, translated into English it reads: Lent invites us to reflect and act upon our lives. It occurred to me that all the profound, contemplative reflection and thorough analysis in the world gets us nowhere if we forget, or refuse to translate it into action.

This is where it gets tricky. Wikipedia reminds us that action is: The fact or process of doing something, typically to achieve an aim. Right. Doing something, something tangible, measurable; achieving a goal. I thought to myself, what is my “action”, what can I tell people when they ask me what I’m “doing”? It turns out what I was doing was reflecting and overanalyzing myself right into doubt and disappointment. I had avoided blogging or writing newsletters because at the six month mark I was frustrated with my lack of substantial results to report. I wanted to tell of some kind of benchmark or any kind of concrete indication that we are on the right track. Hard evidence is what people want, and I wanted to offer proof.

This is not anything new, nor is it specific to any one culture or society. Human beings have always longed for defining evidence, and have always struggled to believe in the absence of sufficient proof. In fact, the crux of the Easter story, and arguably all of Christianity comes down to just that; does an empty tomb prove resurrection?

Cathedral in Santa María Ostuma, La Paz, El Salvador
If you look closely, you will see that the cross rests on top
of a pineapple, a symbol of the town's pride in its
agricultural heritage

Luke’s Gospel tells us that two of Jesus’ followers left Jerusalem scratching their heads and discussing the week’s events with one another, and even with a stranger (who was really Jesus but whom they didn’t recognize) who joined them as they walked the seven miles to Emmaus. This stranger was clearly in the dark about all that had happened over the last week, but he was willing to listen and the disciples were willing to share what they knew.

They knew that Jesus of Nazareth was a prophet “considered by God and by all to be powerful in everything he said and did.” They knew that Jesus had been handed over by the chief priests and rulers to be sentenced to death, and they had seen him crucified. They were frustrated, disappointed and confused; they had hoped that Jesus would be the one to bring freedom to Israel. And as if that weren’t enough, now three days later the tomb had been found empty; the stone was rolled away and Jesus’ body was gone!

Next the stranger spoke and the disciples listened. He acknowledged their doubts and disappointment, he heard their frustration and confusion, and he encouraged their hope and reassured their faith by reminding them what the prophets had foretold. The stranger had lifted up the these travelers and comforted their grief through his actions. What actions, you ask? Companionship, nothing more, nothing less. Being willing to accompany the journey, though the road is long, hot and dusty. Listening first, and truly understanding. Speaking when invited, and sharing words of hope and inspiration. Seeing the value in traveling together and in the potential to grow from stranger into friend.

Preparing to share a meal with new friends from
Asociación A-Brazo, ENLACE and CHIMPS
(Children's Health International Medical Project of Seattle)
in the community of El Chaperno

Below: A special stranger-turned-friend,
Don Jesus - 102 years young!

 I pray that I might continue to actively accompany in El Salvador and not feel limited to measurable outcomes; relationships are results. How many times have eyes been opened, and the Risen Christ revealed, when we take the time to share a meal with strangers turned friends!

 

Who is my neighbor?

If you look closely you can see the subtle signs that I have new neighbors. Judging by the nest, they appear to be of the avian variety. How exciting! Of all the beautiful birds I have seen and heard since coming to El Salvador I couldn't wait to see what had moved in above the broken ceiling tile just off my balcony. A puffed up, yellow breasted Chio perhaps with it's sweet songs, or the Salvadoran National Bird, a brilliant blue, red and green Torogoz? 

El Salvador's National Bird,
the Torogoz

Nope. Your common, run-of-the-mill, brown and grey, Pigeon.


I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a tad disappointed. I mean, Pigeons? How many Pigeons have you seen in your lifetime? Hundreds? Thousands? All pretty much the same, nothing special, and quite frankly more annoying than anything else. I was looking forward to sharing my home with some endangered species that just happened to carry the gene that will cure cancer. Something, anything more exotic. I am in El Salvador, after all. 


Reflecting on my feelings toward my new neighbor made me think about some of the challenges and frustrations we are facing as a Joining Hands Network in formation. All have come singing a different song, donning different colors, from different places and diverse backgrounds. It has not always been easy to accept one another as neighbor and recognize that all are in search of and committed to working for the same things: a safe place to call home, the means to care for family, and to live in peace with nature and neighbor. 


Are we really so different from the Pigeon? For all I know, the Pigeon may not be entirely satisfied with the new accommodations. This Pigeon probably dreamed of a spacious place, high up in the branches of a grand Ceiba tree, and has accepted a comfortable nest, out of the wind, in spite of the so-so neighbors. But what a gift! To accept one another "tal cual somos" just as we are, with our strengths and weaknesses, our gifts and our limitations. Our first mission as Joining Hands El Salvador is this: acceptance. Acceptance paves the way for relationships built on respect, trust and mutual support. If we can remember that we are created different on purpose, just like the Chio, Pigeon and Torogoz, and all in the image of a Loving Parent who cares deeply and wants the best for every one of us, maybe then we will worry less about who are our neighbors (or who are not) and focus instead on the common hopes and dreams we share and how we will achieve our goals together.

Welcome...home?!?!

After a restful and reenergizing visit with family and friends over the Christmas holiday, I am back in San Salvador and continue to marvel at the views (sunset over the city as seen from my laundry room window). Very different from the frost and snow covered landscapes I left in Washington, I have found temperatures in the 80s and 90s surprisingly easy to uhh, warm up to. That said, I definitely count the portable 12-inch fan I purchased upon my return among my favorite things. As quickly as I am settling back into the Salvadoran climate I hope that I can settle back into a more Salvadoran diet and reestablish non-holiday eating patterns in order to bid farewell to the extra five pounds that returned with me to El Salvador.

It is a strange thing to live in two worlds; exciting and rare at times, confusing and trying at others. My experience of traveling home for Christmas seemed to accentuate both extremes. I was thrilled, of course, to be spending the holidays surrounded by loved ones, although feelings of guilt tugged at my heart as I wished a Merry Christmas to my friends, the Honduran refugee family whose holidays would be spent very differently than mine. While only being in town for only a couple of weeks sure helps friends to carve a space, even out of  busy holiday schedules, for coffee with you, but the days fly by and the good-byes are just as bittersweet as ever. I really struggled with this: was I coming home or leaving home for the holidays? So different from one another, these two worlds are filled with different people, almost completely unknown to one another with little connection at all…or so I thought.

I had the opportunity to visit Hamblen Park Presbyterian Church in Spokane, Washington shortly before returning to El Salvador. It was my first time at this church and I was very warmly received by the Pastors, Session members and the congregation. They invited me to share a bit about Joining Hands and our work in El Salvador as the congregation follows its passion for mission by exploring the possibility of an international partnership. Their attention and questions showed their deep love and concern for Salvadoran sisters and brothers whom they had never met, and I was overwhelmed, as a relative stranger, by the hospitality and care I was shown.

In an essay entitled “Childhood and Poetry,” Chilean poet and Nobel laureate Pablo Neruda recalls when another young boy, whom he does not know, passes him a toy through a hole in the fence. The toy had clearly been well-loved and Neruda decides to place one of his own treasures through the fence hole in return. He writes, “To feel the love of people whom we love is a fire that feeds our life. But to feel the affection that comes from those whom we do not know, from those unknown to us, who are watching our sleep and solitude, over our dangers and our weaknesses – that is something still greater and more beautiful because it widens out the boundaries of our being, and unites all living things.”

It is a strange thing to live in two worlds, filled with different people, most completely unknown to one another, but definitely connected. By building and strengthening community in El Salvador and creating and fostering community in the United States – and by making the communities known to one another – I can feel these two worlds begin to merge into one. It is possible to leave home AND come home, as it turns out.

Feed the Hope

When I was little, my favorite Christmas craft was the paper chain. No sooner had we put away the Thanksgiving trace-your-hand-turkeys than I was gathering the construction paper, planning the color order and cutting the strips. As I reflect back now, it may have been that I loved this simple holiday project because of my, shall we say, limited artistic abilities. But at the time, I would have told you that it was because the paper chain was essential to the Christmas countdown. There was something magical about watching the paper chain get shorter and shorter that meant that Christmas was getting closer and closer. Excitement and emotion grew with every link that was removed, and for a child, this is the intrigue of Christmas; the waiting, the wishing, the hoping.

*                      *                         *                         *                          *

The energy and enthusiasm among the in-country partner organizations and churches for the Joining Hands El Salvador Network makes one feel almost like a kid at Christmastime. There is so much passion and commitment to working with and for the impoverished people and communities of El Salvador, and their spirit of organizing is impressive. I remember thinking to myself in my first meeting with the Coordinating Committee, “They really understand the issues, they see the big picture, they’re ready and raring to go; building this network is going to be easy.”

As the meeting went on, it became clear that each partner institution had a different idea about which steps should be taken first, how to truly bring about change, even about the change that they want to see. Everyone had their own idea about how we should move forward. “I can lead workshops in all of our churches, I can facilitate development projects in our communities, I can sponsor training programs through our organization, and I can organize protests with our students, I have connections; we can even meet with the President while we’re at it.” All good ideas. I wanted to respect everyone’s opinion and point of view, and I certainly did not want to offend anyone by suggesting that we pause to clarify our objectives. But I couldn’t help but wonder, were we rushing the process or was it just me?

I know it can be hard not to let oneself get carried away with eagerness and anticipation. It becomes even harder when you are the “new kid” and you want to encourage the energy of the group. Maybe I was the only one who felt out of sync. Maybe I couldn’t see or simply didn’t understand the method behind the madness. But this didn’t feel like eagerness and anticipation, it was like we were under the gun; like we were running out of time.

Not having been directly affected by 12 long years of civil war like every one of my colleagues around the table, and currently living in relative suburban comfort in comparison, I was not faced everyday with the need that is so real, and the inequality and injustice that are unmistakable. I knew I needed to look through a different lens in order to appreciate the pressures of a context in which the daily reality presents such urgent needs and conditions that cry out for immediate attention. What then could bring people with such diverse personalities, beliefs, experiences and backgrounds together, to make decisions and take actions of one mind? Hope.

I thought perhaps we could create together a mission and vision for the network, to shift the focus back to the change we anticipate and highlight our hope in positive outcomes. I thought for sure that could

help to bring everyone onto the same page, as well as foster camaraderie in the process. During the extremely dynamic brainstorming session that followed, a number of beautifully worded, thoughtful and poignant phrases were taking shape. I was particularly taken by one suggestion and repeated it out loud: aliviar los efectos de la pobreza y alimentar la esperanza, to alleviate the effects of poverty and to feed hope. Then came a response that I hadn’t anticipated; “I don’t want to ‘feed hope.’ I want to fight the injustices; we need to feed people, not feed hope.”

There was that kid at Christmastime feeling flooding over me again, only this time it was the disappointment and frustration of the kid who had just realized that by cutting all the links off the paper chain she could not make Christmas come any sooner.

It is true; Joining Hands is about fighting injustices, transforming the systems that prevent God’s people from rejoicing in the abundant life for which they have been created. It is about working through peaceful means to change local and global conditions. We hear in Mary’s Magnificat that this too is the message of Christmas – to bring down rulers from their thrones and lift up the humble, to fill the hungry with good things and send the rich away empty.

Joining Hands is also about celebrating community, building solidarity, and thoughtfully and patiently participating together in the long, and sometimes slow process of actively expecting with confidence in the Peace, Joy and Love that is to come; the message of Advent. Joining Hands is also about Hope.

Shelley Douglass, in an article for Sojourners Magazine, writes,  

“In Advent, Christians remember that God not only hears the cry of the poor, but God was born one of the oppressed…Jesus lived among suffering people. This was not God enthroned, listening from a distance to wails of suffering. No, God-with-us was with the wailing crowds, healing, comforting -- and challenging…This is our hope.

Hope is not optimism. Advent hope…is not the belief that everything will work out for us if we just believe. Advent hope…is that the power of the empire will be overthrown and the poor will be able to live their lives in peace and plenty. Advent hope is not that a pretty baby will appear in the manger and sales will rise and the economy will resurrect. Advent hope is that empires will fall: all empires, with their idolatry, their gluttony, their pollution, their wars, their intrigue, their murder, and their weapons. Advent hope is that we will transform our minds - which will then require us to transform our world.”

As we prepare to celebrate the long-awaited coming of the Messiah, born into a world filled with violence and greed, hunger and extreme poverty – not so different from the world we live in – we reaffirm our belief that God still wants for us the change God sent Jesus to preach: a world without war, a world without discrimination, a world where the needs of others come before our own interests. Just as Christmas is not the end, rather the beginning of the story, we too must begin our story with hope.

Through this process we were able to embrace a hope that guides us and gives us purpose, a hope that inspires us to work together to build the world in which we would like to live, and a hope that invites us to live for the day when the nations shall beat their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; when nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more.

May the Hope, Peace, Joy and Love of this Advent Season fill your homes and hearts. And as we “fight the injustices” may we always remember to also “feed the hope.”

Reformation

(n) reformation: improvement (or an intended improvement) in the existing form or condition of institutions or practices etc.; intended to make a striking change for the better in social, political or religious affairs¹


Left to right: Muslim Imam Dr. Armando Bukele,
Episcopal Father Luis Serrano,
Lutheran Bishop Medardo Gomez





I must confess; I have never celebrated Reformation Day. I did write a paper in high school about the significance of the Reformation, but until this year I was not even aware that such a “holy day” existed. Here in El Salvador the protestant churches take this celebration seriously. And not just the Lutherans, whose church carries the name of the Father of the Reformation, Martin Luther.

Invited to a Reformation Celebration were the Baptists, the Episcopalians, the Reformed Calvinists and Presbyterian (me), hosted by the Lutherans and with a keynote address by the Imam (worship leader) of the Muslim Community in San Salvador. In his powerful and inspiring address, Dr. Bukele shed light on the Reformation from a different perspective. A process that on the outside appears to have irreparably divided the Church forever has also given way to an ecumenical movement that includes and unites people. It is not about institutions. When we make the Reformation about denominations and religious systems we miss the point.

Reformation is making a change for the better, not only in institutions but in our practice of living, not only in the religious arena, but in social and political life as well. When we challenge ourselves and each other, as sisters and brothers, to keeping striving to make a change for the better, to keep reforming, we live into the Reformation. And as Dr. Bukele so passionately shared, “a church committed to social justice, committed to love and concern for neighbor, a church of actions not just words, is a church reformed...Christian or Muslim, that church resembles God, not an institution made by man.”
~                 ~                     ~                  ~                     ~                   

Other signs of reformation…

A lesson in permaculture in Lirios, a community outside the city of San Salvador.

Permaculture is the practice of creating agricultural and community systems based on the relationships found in natural ecologies.

Here these practices are being used to restore the soil and the underground water table. By digging ditches to channel rain water the soil retains moisture longer into the dry season, allowing trees and plants to thrive throughout the year. This not only provides a canopy of shade serving to significantly cool the immediate area, but the vegetation also “breathes” fresh, clean air into the atmosphere helping to counteract the effects of heavy air pollution in the nearby city.

~              ~                    ~                      ~                       ~         



With Pastora Norma and Rev. Jeff Johnson, Chaplain
of University Lutheran Chapel, UC Berkeley at
Cordero de Dios (Lamb of God) Lutheran Church
in Soyapango, one of San Salvador's neighboring cities.

The night before Jeff and I visited Cordero de Dios Lutheran Church, where he was invited to preach and I to translate, there were 7 murders in Soyapango. We were told it was not surprising that so few people (6 adults and 7 children, 3 of whom are the pastors' daughters) had ventured out that Sunday morning to join us in worship. Only months before two of the youth of the church were shot and killed at a sports field just blocks from the church. Soyapango is well known for its high rate of gang violence, and as Pastor Norma puts it, "our young people are fighting for their futures on a daily basis."

Rather than pack up and move the church, or at very least the worship service into a more secure community, Pastors Norma and husband Rafael believe that this is exactly where God needs them the most; where God's presence is most needed. They have embraced the youth of this neighborhood and try to offer them an alternative to the dangerous yet tempting lifestyle of easy money in organized crime. A group of teenagers have started a band, and with Rafael's leadership they are practicing covers and writing their own songs. They also lead rocking praise music on Sundays that rivals any contemporary service I've ever seen!

Two of the band members will be starting university studies next year, one to become a teacher. These youth are thriving in a place where opportunites are few and far between, they have a reason to hope even amidst so much hopelessness. With just the handful of pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters that make it to the offering plate each week, this little church is making a striking change for the better; reforming its community.

 ¹http://wordnetweb.princeton.edu/perl/webwn?s=reformation



A Taste of Home

I went to Starbucks.

After almost two months in El Salvador I could feel myself moving out of the "honeymoon" stage and beginning to "grieve" leaving home behind. I wasn't feeling full-blown homesick...yet, so I decided a taste of home might do me some good.

I remembered seeing those familiar, green, block letters on a building near one of the hotels that had hosted a conference I attended some weeks back. I remember being shocked that Starbucks had come full circle - returning to its roots, so to speak, in the land of coffee. But today I wasn't in the mood to analyze the arrival of the first Starbucks in Central America in terms of globalization and all its implications. Today, regardless of the fact that it was pushing 90 degrees outside, I just longed to hold that warm, white cup in my hand.

I spent the 30 minute bus ride across town running through the menu in my head: what would I order? A grande caramel macchiato, tall wet cappuccino? Should I get an iced coffee, a frapuccino, or a venti iced chai? It didn't really even matter; this was much more about connecting with home than anything else. And what a connection, I mean I have been to the original store at Pike Place. Starbucks is a Seattle phenomenon gone global! Aside from the apple and the evergreen, Starbucks is about as Washington State as it gets! Now I was feeling quite proud about my cross-town excursion. At this point it was quite clear that it really wasn't about the coffee - this was about me, and wanting to go "where everybody knows your name." Everything here is new and different: tastes, smells, sounds, words. I just wanted something that felt familiar, comfortable, like what I left behind. I wanted to be somewhere I fit, somewhere I could blend in and not feel like I so obviously stand out.

The bus driver kindly dropped me off right in front of the store since the bus had emptied along the route and I was now the last passenger riding. The parking lot was packed. Well, Saturday afternoon, I thought, maybe folks are out enjoying their weekend. As I rounded the corner to the front door it appeared that the parking lot was not the only thing that was packed. There was a line out the door! I had to wait in line to go inside the Starbucks! A million thoughts ran through my mind, most of them beginning with "this would never happen at home." How absurd! There's a Starbucks on every corner at home, I could just go to the one down the street, or at home I would have the option of a walk-up or a drive-thru window. What was worse is that the young man in a green apron, who had definitely reached his quota of coffee for the day judging by his upbeat and overly pleasant demeanor, was sharing stats about the coffee, the company and its beginnings as he VERY slowly ushered the line along. I knew all that stuff, I'M FROM WASHINGTON, I AM STARBUCKS, I wanted to scream.

Twenty minutes later, a little worse for wear and now borderline homesick from the sheer frustration, it was finally my turn to order. I was wishing I had made up my mind on the bus ride, with the same menu (and the same prices) I have the same problem making a drink decision at home. After all it took to get there, I opted for a simple grande latte, no frills, no fuss. "Grande latte para Cristi," they announced, calling my name with Spanish pronunciation even before I finished paying. As I gathered my drink and a sleeve for that oh-so-familiar white cup I couldn't help but notice the clientele; entire families, little kids and adults in shiny shoes, dresses and slacks, several gentlemen in suits and ties, young women all made up and wearing heels that made my feet hurt just looking at them. In my t-shirt and jeans, hair in a messy bun and zero make-up, dirt under my fingernails from my visits to the rural communities, and a sinking feeling in my gut at the thought of spending what some earn after a 10 hour day toiling under the hot sun in the sugar cane fields on one cup of coffee, I most certainly did not fit here!

I left the store in a hurry and made my way to the bus stop recognizing that it was now getting late and I still had at least a half-hour ride home. I wondered to myself if the old adage wasn't true; can you really never go home again? I enjoyed every last drop of what, I must confess, truly was a taste of home, and I came to the conclusion that perhaps it's not that you can't go home again, it's that you can't go home the same.

Prayers for FONDAMA and Haiti

The Joining Hands community has been informed that several FONDAMA (Fondasyon Men Lan Men Ayiti/ Hand in Hand Haiti Foundation) leaders and members have fallen ill due to the cholera epidemic in Haiti. FONDAMA leaders are trying to piece together information and to arrange for the delivery of oral rehydration packets and water sanitation equipment to affected areas.

Hurricane Tomas, on a path for Haiti, weakened to a tropical storm in the early morning hours today, Monday, but is expected to regenerate into a hurricane that could cause further devastation as the country struggles to contain the cholera outbreak. Please keep FONDAMA and all Haitians in your prayers in this challenging time.



Yzméne Elias, from the rural town of
Seramo, with cabbages she grew using
the old tire system she learned in a
FONDAMA workshop.


The FONDAMA network intends to “restore the Haitian environment toward food sovereignty and sustainability.” FONDAMA wants to secure food sovereignty through the promotion of family and cooperative agriculture. An agriculture that is organic and respectful of the environment so that the rights of future generations may be protected.

Loving God, we lift up our sisters and brothers in the Joining Hands family; their struggle is our own. Give us the strength to stand in solidarity with the people of Haiti and with all those who dare to "beat swords into plowshares." Empower us to take action to restore your creation, and to reclaim the just, dignified and abundant life that you desire for all people, everywhere. Amen.





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Don't Miss the Point - Sermon delivered via Skype at Northminster Presbyterian Church, Portland, OR

Luke 18:9-14 CEV
“Jesus told this story to some people who thought they were better than others and who looked down on everyone else: Two men went to the temple to pray. One was a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood by himself and prayed: ‘God, I thank you that I am not greedy, dishonest, or unfaithful in marriage like other people. And I am really glad I am not like the tax collector over there. I go without eating for two days a week, and I give you one-tenth of all I earn.’

The tax collector stood at a distance and did not think he was good enough even to look up to heaven. He was so sorry for what he’d done that he pounded his chest and prayed: ‘God, have pity on me! I am such a sinner.’

Then Jesus said, ‘When the two men went home, it was the tax collector and not the Pharisee who was pleasing to God. If you put yourself above others, you’ll be put down. But if you humble yourself, you will be honored.’” 

I have a new found respect for parables. One of the many cultural adjustments that I am having to make is trying to adapt to a much more direct form of communication. In my experience, Salvadorans tend to get right to the point and do not shy away from speaking exactly what is on their mind. Communication in Guatemala falls on the opposite end of the spectrum; almost overly courteous, fraught with subtleties and very indirect. Perhaps, after finally embracing the Guatemalan model this leap to the Salvadoran style at the other extreme is proving to be quite a challenge.

Stories that convey meaning indirectly through comparison or analogy feel accessible, even comfortable; easier to swallow. That’s probably why Jesus liked to use parables so much. However, as is sometimes the case with indirect forms of communication, parables leave the story open for misunderstanding, or simply missing the point. And today’s parable is a classic case.

First we meet the Pharisee. You might remember that Pharisee’s had quite the reputation back in the day. They were considered by many to be hypocrites, yet considered themselves to be the epitome of righteousness as meticulous followers of religious law. As part of society’s elite, the Pharisees enjoyed much wealth and many comforts; in other words, the means to comply with requisite Temple offerings and an abundance of blessings for which to give thanks. It is not surprising that we encounter the Pharisee, touting his commitment to fasting and tithing, from a standing position front and center, certain to draw attention to himself as he prayed.

The stereotypical teacher’s pet, the Rachel Barry character (for our Glee fanatics out there) we’re told, “stood apart by himself and prayed,” or some versions read, “stood up and prayed to himself.” This could mean prayed silently, but it would not seem out of character for the Pharisee to be praying not necessarily to God but rather to hear himself pray, Thank God I am not like all the other, lesser people. But how much easier must it be to fast two days a week when going hungry is not a familiar feeling, and how much more feasible is a ten% tithe when it doesn’t imply not being able to make rent? The text is kind of leading as to who is in the wrong in this story. Is that the point?

Well, let’s meet the other man who went up to the Temple to pray, a tax collector. Tax collectors, or publicans in that day and age, had a reputation of their own. Known to be greedy, corrupt and always willing to take advantage of hardworking tax payers in the interest of making a buck, a tax collector was a traitor (a fellow Jew working for Rome) and thus considered the lowest of the low in Jewish society. So one might expect the tax collector to slink into the Temple and take a place near the back, in an attempt to go unnoticed. By his posture and his prayer we can tell that he clearly feels unworthy, and is not proud of the life he lives. Pounding his chest, guilt-ridden and ashamed, he utters a plea that God might take pity on him.

Normally, the story would close with some ambiguous statement like, “go and do the same.” But in what would appear to be a very non-parable-like fashion, Jesus wraps it all up for us. “When the two men went home, it was the tax collector and not the Pharisee who was pleasing to God.” Well, okay then. That seems simple enough. So if I take the Facebook quiz, “Which parable character are you?” I should be hoping for tax collector. I mean, I’m not arrogant and pretentious like the Pharisee…thank God! That’s the point, right?

It’s easy to get caught up in the labels and assumptions that we have about such typecast characters as a Pharisee and a tax collector, and come to this story ready to judge one or both. What if we alter the cast? What if we write ourselves into the story? I bet if we are honest, each and every one of us at one time or another has prayed the Pharisee’s prayer, or something like it. Passing a car accident on the freeway we might think: Thank God, thank you that it wasn’t me. Upon hearing news of a catastrophe or natural disaster we might be tempted to say: Thank you God that my family was not involved. Without any bad intentions whatsoever, this is still just one step away from: Thank God it was them and not us. Or we come to God like the tax collector, embarrassed and broken and in desperate need of forgiveness, but with little if any intent to make a change; to live differently. Haven’t we still missed the point?

Thursday morning I sat in my office waiting for the appointment I had scheduled for 9 o’clock. I was waiting for the woman who had offered to help me in the process of soliciting temporary residency as a religious worker in the country. She had mentioned several times that she lived just four bus stops from the office, but yet it was pushing ten and there was still no sign of her. I was getting a little frustrated even though I know all about the umm…different concept of time and punctuality that is practiced in Latin America. I could feel my mood souring and I found myself thinking about how my office space is really less than adequate; the bird cage full of parakeets just outside the window next to me, some kind of invisible bugs that bite me unaware all day long, one bar of wireless internet signal if I’m lucky, and most nights it doubles as a living space for the woman with whom I share it. To top it off, the office is located near the entrance on the first level of the Lutheran Synod, so it is also an office that receives lots of visitors.

After getting a call that she had gotten tied up and was on her way (at ten minutes to ten) I began sorting through my documents, passport, birth certificate, criminal history clearance, letter from the church verifying my position and proof of financial support, etc. What a process! All this paperwork I had to prepare ahead of time and the certifications are not cheap. Just thinking about the estimated budget that the woman had sent me ahead of time was making my bad mood worse. How could the church be expected to pay over $700 to formalize my immigration status? Are we getting scammed? Could it possibly cost that much? And if so, what a waste of funds! Even in the short time that I have been here I have already seen firsthand endless ways that that money could make much more of a difference.

Now I was really upset, and in the middle of my argument with myself a gentleman came into the office with a folder in hand. He greeted both of us with a smile and a pleasant good morning, buenos dias, before starting a conversation with Pastora Cecilia, my officemate. I’ll admit I was relieved, I just wasn’t in the mood for small talk and my appointment would be arriving any minute, my mind was definitely elsewhere. Before I knew it, the visitor was standing at my desk introducing himself as Juan and spreading the contents of the folder over all my legal documents. Couldn’t he see that I was busy and that these were important papers that I couldn’t afford to mess up? If he only knew that this was a several hundred dollar process he was interrupting...

              ...I sat there mortified, completely speechless, as he began to share the details of how he and his family arrived as refugees to the Casa Concordia, a shelter run by the Lutheran Church. Juan, his wife, two daughters, 20 and 24, and their eight-year-old son fled Honduras after their older son was abducted and murdered in late July. Juan is a member of a workers’ union that has been speaking out against unfair treatment of skilled workers and a general unwillingness to hire tradesmen with decades of experience because young, inexperienced, engineering graduates will work for less. As if the murder of his son were not tragic enough, when his partner from the union was also found dead he knew for certain that he and his family were no longer safe.

He leaned over my desk and showed me the most recent photo of his son and the newspaper clippings with the story and picture of where his son’s body was found. He showed me the prescriptions for medicine and fortified baby formula for his eldest daughter and her new baby who have contracted hepatitis. The baby was born on October 8th at the home of a family member just this side of the Honduras/El Salvador border where Juan’s family slept on the dirt floor and was later asked to leave so as not to put the family member at risk. And he showed me his formal documents; a copy of his passport and the rumpled pages from the Department of Human Rights in Honduras validating their refugee status. He explained that as refugees they can stay at the Casa Concordia indefinitely, but the food basket they were given initially is quickly running out and food donations are not easy to come by. In order to work legally Juan would have to go through the immigration process to get the necessary permits and not only is it too expensive, but settling this close to Honduras his family would still be in danger. “The same gangs and hitmen operate here in El Salvador too,” he tells me. They are hoping to apply for asylum in Canada or Australia, but the process is long and tedious, and there are no guarantees.

When I could finally muster words I realized that in that moment all I could do for him was to offer him a seat and a glass of water, and just listen.

What could I possibly do faced with this situation? Should I stand up and say Thank God that I am fully prepared for the residency process? Thank you, God that I have resources enough to cover my needs. And thank God that if worse came to worst and things didn’t work out, I could always just pick up and go home. That would certainly be missing the point. So then should I throw up my hands and give in, obviously I'm not worthy to be serving in this capacity? Maybe pound my chest and ask to be shown mercy for failing to help. Not the point either.

Juan and family literally have nothing but the clothes on their backs, they are putting their faith in a process that may or may not pan out, and they can no longer return home, out of fear for their lives; for them worse has already come to worst. I spent the rest of the day, who am I kidding, the rest of the week really wrestling with the question, Where is God in all of this? And it dawned on me…THAT is the point.

God is in all of this, whether I can do anything about it or not! It’s not about me! It is not about what I can or can’t do! I am the Pharisee, proud and boastful. At times we all are. And I am the tax collector; I do fall short and need God’s mercy. We all do. But we miss the point when we focus on who is the better person, more righteous, or who can be more humble. This parable reminds us that we should focus on the generosity, love, mercy and mystery of God, and what God empowers us to do with God, even if sometimes that simply means listen. Amen.