Understanding how small you are is an art....
....and a gift.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Friday, December 4, 2009
Eid el Adha, pt 2
...After the prayer, Shebab and I hurried home. I was greeted by my 'uncle' Abdrabu, who was sharpening knives, a look of eagerness on his face. It was time to slaughter the goat.
As the family finished the final preparations for the sacrifice, I bit my lip and continued my three-day-long debate: would I stay to watch the act, or would I retreat to my room and muffle my ears? I've been known to grow faint at the sight of blood, and I didn't know how I would handle watching an animal suffer--especially after the goat had spent the night outside the tent, bleating pitifully.
As I deliberated, I heard a scuffle across the street and glanced over just in time to see our neighbors' goat meet his end. Shaken, I figured I might as well stay and join my family in the ritual. My motivation was primarily spiritual, not cultural--the sacrifice is meant to commemorate God's provision of a ram to save the life of Ibrahim's (Abraham's) son. The concept of blood sacrifice and God's provision of a replacement is so central to the true story of the Bible, and I had yet to gain a real, tangible understanding of this very gruesome theme. I have been seeking to greater understand Calvary--and here was a valuable opportunity.
So, I gripped my sister Tigera's arm as I watched the men drag out the poor creature, hobbled and spotless white (this detail was not lost on me). I braced myself as they forced it to the ground, and soon jumped back as blood spurted in my direction...
After the deed was done, the family went to work on preparing the meat, and I broke away to bury myself in Isaiah 53 for a few minutes....
"He was wounded for our transgressions....
the Lord laid on him the iniquity of us all.
Like a lamb led to slaughter....
By knowledge of him shall many be counted as righteous
...because he poured out his soul to death."
(God...let our awe of this only grow...let us never grow numb to the supreme price of your rich grace)
As the morning wore on, our sisters burst into the room and announced it was time to enter the tent and receive visitors--but first, we must finish our beauty routine. I managed to escape the traditonal layers of khol eyeliner, but they insisted that I allow some make up. Once I was pronounced acceptable, I joined the family in the tent.
On this day, families live as lavishly as they can afford, passing around glass after glass of delicious sweet tea, dousing their guests in perfume and passing around coals sprinkled with incense. Family members showered each other with kisses, wishing one another a blessed Eid and asking one another for forgiveness. The atmosphere of joy and warmth was truly beautiful--as were the multicolored mehlfas and dra'as they wore.
After a lunch of (very fresh) goat meat, fruit (a special treat), potatoes, and Coca Cola, we dispersed to rest or visit neighbors. A few hours later, we stuffed ourselves into several ancient, borrowed cars and took off for the dunes. We turned off the road and bumped along in the rusty sedans over rocks and sand until we reached our destination--safely, to my mild surprise.
We spread out mats on the soft ground for a picnic of tea and goat kebab, cooked over coals in the sand. We climbed the dunes barefoot, laughing as we tripped and sank on the steep inclines. After watching the sunset, we drove back home--only delayed for 20 minutes when one car sank into a drift of powdery sand.
The night was finished off with more tea and visitors--I slept at 1:30, but several family members did not return until after dawn the next morning.
And that was only the first day. :)
The next two days--well, I won't try to elaborate, but they were some of the most beautiful I've enjoyed on this trip. I spent all the daylight hours trekking from neighborhood to neighborhood, visiting friends, family, and students. The universal atmosphere of peace, goodwill, and joy was such a blessing to me. At every tent I met with the warmest of welcomes, glass after glass of tea, inquiries after the health of myself and my family, and blessings and encouragement on all sides. We shared meals together, we laughed and gossiped. We asked one another for forgiveness--a common theme during this feast. We pressed one another to eat more, and complimented each other on the beautiful make up and clothes we wore. My friends and I spent several hours just ambling through the neighborhood, enjoying the greetings and blessings of those we met on the street.
I can hardly express the beauty of this culture--where nothing is seen as "mine", but everything is "ours". Where the only way to offend a family is by not visiting enough, or not accepting enough of their food or gifts. True generosity and joy--and from people so many Westerners would ignorantly pity if they heard only of their suffering. Yes, they suffer and lack--but, I've found, this 'fact' does not constrain or define them, but rather, they overcome it by clinging to their God and their loved ones, counting these things as the greatest treasure of all. And in this, they are rich.
And so I thank God every day for my new family and friends, who have enriched me so truly.
As the family finished the final preparations for the sacrifice, I bit my lip and continued my three-day-long debate: would I stay to watch the act, or would I retreat to my room and muffle my ears? I've been known to grow faint at the sight of blood, and I didn't know how I would handle watching an animal suffer--especially after the goat had spent the night outside the tent, bleating pitifully.
As I deliberated, I heard a scuffle across the street and glanced over just in time to see our neighbors' goat meet his end. Shaken, I figured I might as well stay and join my family in the ritual. My motivation was primarily spiritual, not cultural--the sacrifice is meant to commemorate God's provision of a ram to save the life of Ibrahim's (Abraham's) son. The concept of blood sacrifice and God's provision of a replacement is so central to the true story of the Bible, and I had yet to gain a real, tangible understanding of this very gruesome theme. I have been seeking to greater understand Calvary--and here was a valuable opportunity.
So, I gripped my sister Tigera's arm as I watched the men drag out the poor creature, hobbled and spotless white (this detail was not lost on me). I braced myself as they forced it to the ground, and soon jumped back as blood spurted in my direction...
After the deed was done, the family went to work on preparing the meat, and I broke away to bury myself in Isaiah 53 for a few minutes....
"He was wounded for our transgressions....
the Lord laid on him the iniquity of us all.
Like a lamb led to slaughter....
By knowledge of him shall many be counted as righteous
...because he poured out his soul to death."
(God...let our awe of this only grow...let us never grow numb to the supreme price of your rich grace)
As the morning wore on, our sisters burst into the room and announced it was time to enter the tent and receive visitors--but first, we must finish our beauty routine. I managed to escape the traditonal layers of khol eyeliner, but they insisted that I allow some make up. Once I was pronounced acceptable, I joined the family in the tent.
On this day, families live as lavishly as they can afford, passing around glass after glass of delicious sweet tea, dousing their guests in perfume and passing around coals sprinkled with incense. Family members showered each other with kisses, wishing one another a blessed Eid and asking one another for forgiveness. The atmosphere of joy and warmth was truly beautiful--as were the multicolored mehlfas and dra'as they wore.
After a lunch of (very fresh) goat meat, fruit (a special treat), potatoes, and Coca Cola, we dispersed to rest or visit neighbors. A few hours later, we stuffed ourselves into several ancient, borrowed cars and took off for the dunes. We turned off the road and bumped along in the rusty sedans over rocks and sand until we reached our destination--safely, to my mild surprise.
We spread out mats on the soft ground for a picnic of tea and goat kebab, cooked over coals in the sand. We climbed the dunes barefoot, laughing as we tripped and sank on the steep inclines. After watching the sunset, we drove back home--only delayed for 20 minutes when one car sank into a drift of powdery sand.
The night was finished off with more tea and visitors--I slept at 1:30, but several family members did not return until after dawn the next morning.
And that was only the first day. :)
The next two days--well, I won't try to elaborate, but they were some of the most beautiful I've enjoyed on this trip. I spent all the daylight hours trekking from neighborhood to neighborhood, visiting friends, family, and students. The universal atmosphere of peace, goodwill, and joy was such a blessing to me. At every tent I met with the warmest of welcomes, glass after glass of tea, inquiries after the health of myself and my family, and blessings and encouragement on all sides. We shared meals together, we laughed and gossiped. We asked one another for forgiveness--a common theme during this feast. We pressed one another to eat more, and complimented each other on the beautiful make up and clothes we wore. My friends and I spent several hours just ambling through the neighborhood, enjoying the greetings and blessings of those we met on the street.
I can hardly express the beauty of this culture--where nothing is seen as "mine", but everything is "ours". Where the only way to offend a family is by not visiting enough, or not accepting enough of their food or gifts. True generosity and joy--and from people so many Westerners would ignorantly pity if they heard only of their suffering. Yes, they suffer and lack--but, I've found, this 'fact' does not constrain or define them, but rather, they overcome it by clinging to their God and their loved ones, counting these things as the greatest treasure of all. And in this, they are rich.
And so I thank God every day for my new family and friends, who have enriched me so truly.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Eid el Adha (pt. 1)
I promised to share some of my experiences from the recent Eid-el-Adha...so I will try and do so in the brief time I have to type this up...
Eid el Adha is a three day feast that takes place at the end of the holy month of Hajj in Ramadan. The weeks leading up to it are saturated with anticipation--families search tirelessly for the best dra'as and mehlfas to wear, prepare a choice goat (or goats) to slaughter, welcome home visiting relatives, and scour the meager markets for the best dates, cakes, and produce to serve in celebration.
I was given two very nice mehlfas to wear, one by my family and one by a concerned student, who handed it to me and sternly asked, "Now teacher, you're going to wear make up and jewelry too, right?" The night before Eid everyone was grinning and giddy, reminding me repeatedly, "It's Eid tomorrow!"
I awoke early to a cold, pomegranate sunrise. (It is in the 40s in the morning here, with no heat apart from the small cluster of coals we use to make tea). Shivering a bit, I put on my nicest mehfla and joined my sister, Shebab, on her way to elsalat--the community prayer.
It was beautiful. We gathered outdoors in the crisp morning, bright-eyed, all dressed in our "gay apparel". We greeted each other with "Have a blessed Eid" and "Please forgive me for anything I've done against you." I joined hundreds of Saharawi in prostrating in the sand at the call of "God is the Greatest!". There is something deeply meaningful in the act--it is so right to bow my face into the sand while murmuring of God's greatness.
Reverence--that is something that is alive and well here, and something I've found sadly lacking in much of the American-Christian psyche. After all, it's the fear of the Lord that is the begininng of wisdom, and this is just one of many things that we ought to learn from our Muslim brothers and sisters. Undeniably, in Christ we have inexhaustible grace and forgiveness--but I've seen so many people miss the real picture. Jesus Christ is not only the Good Shepherd, but the Alpha and the Omega. Our view of God is often so stunted and skewed. Truly, any soul that catches even a glimpse of God's majesty would never trample on the holy cross in the name of 'grace'. Instead, in humility and awe, we would fall silent in gratitude at the cosmic paradox of an infinite God showing us infinite mercy. That is grace, and it should split our very souls...we ought to all throw our faces to the ground every now and then.
(Well that was a rabbit trail...I will have to continue with my story tomorrow. :) )
Eid el Adha is a three day feast that takes place at the end of the holy month of Hajj in Ramadan. The weeks leading up to it are saturated with anticipation--families search tirelessly for the best dra'as and mehlfas to wear, prepare a choice goat (or goats) to slaughter, welcome home visiting relatives, and scour the meager markets for the best dates, cakes, and produce to serve in celebration.
I was given two very nice mehlfas to wear, one by my family and one by a concerned student, who handed it to me and sternly asked, "Now teacher, you're going to wear make up and jewelry too, right?" The night before Eid everyone was grinning and giddy, reminding me repeatedly, "It's Eid tomorrow!"
I awoke early to a cold, pomegranate sunrise. (It is in the 40s in the morning here, with no heat apart from the small cluster of coals we use to make tea). Shivering a bit, I put on my nicest mehfla and joined my sister, Shebab, on her way to elsalat--the community prayer.
It was beautiful. We gathered outdoors in the crisp morning, bright-eyed, all dressed in our "gay apparel". We greeted each other with "Have a blessed Eid" and "Please forgive me for anything I've done against you." I joined hundreds of Saharawi in prostrating in the sand at the call of "God is the Greatest!". There is something deeply meaningful in the act--it is so right to bow my face into the sand while murmuring of God's greatness.
Reverence--that is something that is alive and well here, and something I've found sadly lacking in much of the American-Christian psyche. After all, it's the fear of the Lord that is the begininng of wisdom, and this is just one of many things that we ought to learn from our Muslim brothers and sisters. Undeniably, in Christ we have inexhaustible grace and forgiveness--but I've seen so many people miss the real picture. Jesus Christ is not only the Good Shepherd, but the Alpha and the Omega. Our view of God is often so stunted and skewed. Truly, any soul that catches even a glimpse of God's majesty would never trample on the holy cross in the name of 'grace'. Instead, in humility and awe, we would fall silent in gratitude at the cosmic paradox of an infinite God showing us infinite mercy. That is grace, and it should split our very souls...we ought to all throw our faces to the ground every now and then.
(Well that was a rabbit trail...I will have to continue with my story tomorrow. :) )
Sunday, November 29, 2009
As I sit here, I am at a loss for words...How can I, with the few minutes of battery left on the school laptop, elaborate on the rich layers of experience of the past week?
I could write about many things--the deeply emotional celebration I witnessed as one Saharawi family welcomed home a brother from the Occupied Territories, the truly unique feast I enjoyed on Thanksgiving with American and Saharawi friends, or the incredible cultural insights and memories I've gained in the celebration of Eid-el-Adha these past three days...
And I will share some of these stories, soon....but all these things pale in comparison to the inexpressible joy it's been to awake and walk each day hand in hand with my God. My eyes fill with tears as I grope for words to express how great my Heavenly Father is, and how my most feeble and imperfect gestures towards him have flooded my life with light--for he is so very near and so very willing to answer when we seek him with sincere hearts. (Luke 11:9-13) I must begin with this most earnest praise--and I will restrain my hand for now, for, like John I know that "all the {blogs} in the world could not contain" what there is to write about my Redeemer.
It is my prayer that you might all come to know the surpassing joy found in our God through Jesus Christ...for "he is not far from each one of us." (Acts 17:27)
In the words of one of my Saharawi sisters, "When you go walking towards God, he comes running towards you."
"As for me, I am poor and needy,
but the LORD takes thought for me." Ps. 40:17
I could write about many things--the deeply emotional celebration I witnessed as one Saharawi family welcomed home a brother from the Occupied Territories, the truly unique feast I enjoyed on Thanksgiving with American and Saharawi friends, or the incredible cultural insights and memories I've gained in the celebration of Eid-el-Adha these past three days...
And I will share some of these stories, soon....but all these things pale in comparison to the inexpressible joy it's been to awake and walk each day hand in hand with my God. My eyes fill with tears as I grope for words to express how great my Heavenly Father is, and how my most feeble and imperfect gestures towards him have flooded my life with light--for he is so very near and so very willing to answer when we seek him with sincere hearts. (Luke 11:9-13) I must begin with this most earnest praise--and I will restrain my hand for now, for, like John I know that "all the {blogs} in the world could not contain" what there is to write about my Redeemer.
It is my prayer that you might all come to know the surpassing joy found in our God through Jesus Christ...for "he is not far from each one of us." (Acts 17:27)
In the words of one of my Saharawi sisters, "When you go walking towards God, he comes running towards you."
"As for me, I am poor and needy,
but the LORD takes thought for me." Ps. 40:17
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
I can hardly believe I have less than three weeks left here...In some ways, the past two and half months have flown by, and in other ways, I feel like I've been here for much longer....
My heart is starting to tear a little as my thoughts go in different directions...I'm so thrilled to see my family again (and my friends, in January...)...but I can't bear to anticpate the goodbyes.
I spent the night with Rabab and Fadah last night, two girls I've become very close to in my time here. We watched Turkish soap operas on their tiny television, ate sweets that nearly cracked my teeth, and talked and laughed. In the morning, we gathered around the coals to warm ourselves as one aunt made tea and the mother stirred the insha--a hot drink of water, ground barely, and olive oil. This is another world...and I've learned to love it. "You're saharawi, and I'm your mother," their mother said, grinning.
Today, I'm going with my friend Aiza to a celebration--her aunt was granted permission by Morocco to visit for a week from the Occupied Territory. Life in the Occupied zone is not easy--survellience, suppression, and propoganda make it almost unbearable, I'm told. They'd rather live in remote desert camps than under Morocco, my Saharawi friends insist.
Which brings me to my last bit of news for today...you all should join me in following the story of Aminatou Haidar...a courageous Saharawi woman who is enduring outrageous treatment by the Moroccan government--and even more astounding, she was detained and deported on her return from receiving the Civil Courage Prize in the United States of America.
This world is too small, too connected, for such paradoxes and disparities in justice to exist...read her story here, share it, and raise your voice in protest for her and for these beautiful, deserving, long-suffering people.
http://www.globalpost.com/dispatch/worldview/091119/sahara-hunger-strike?page=0,0
My heart is starting to tear a little as my thoughts go in different directions...I'm so thrilled to see my family again (and my friends, in January...)...but I can't bear to anticpate the goodbyes.
I spent the night with Rabab and Fadah last night, two girls I've become very close to in my time here. We watched Turkish soap operas on their tiny television, ate sweets that nearly cracked my teeth, and talked and laughed. In the morning, we gathered around the coals to warm ourselves as one aunt made tea and the mother stirred the insha--a hot drink of water, ground barely, and olive oil. This is another world...and I've learned to love it. "You're saharawi, and I'm your mother," their mother said, grinning.
Today, I'm going with my friend Aiza to a celebration--her aunt was granted permission by Morocco to visit for a week from the Occupied Territory. Life in the Occupied zone is not easy--survellience, suppression, and propoganda make it almost unbearable, I'm told. They'd rather live in remote desert camps than under Morocco, my Saharawi friends insist.
Which brings me to my last bit of news for today...you all should join me in following the story of Aminatou Haidar...a courageous Saharawi woman who is enduring outrageous treatment by the Moroccan government--and even more astounding, she was detained and deported on her return from receiving the Civil Courage Prize in the United States of America.
This world is too small, too connected, for such paradoxes and disparities in justice to exist...read her story here, share it, and raise your voice in protest for her and for these beautiful, deserving, long-suffering people.
http://www.globalpost.com/dispatch/worldview/091119/sahara-hunger-strike?page=0,0
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Sunday, November 22, 2009
h2o...
My family has been out of water for almost a week now...
We rely on Algerian water trucks to fill the metal koobah containers outside our tent, but the one belonging to my family has a leak...thus, I have had the opportunity to contemplate for the past several days the very important issue of water.
They say the wars of my generation will be fought over water...Now, my family has been able to borrow a pitcher or two here and there in order to cook and take care of the bare necessities, and Sarah and I still buy bottled water to drink, but it has still been a sobering experience.
The 'bathroom' is horrendous. Human excrement is overflowing because we have no way to flush. We have been unable to wash our clothes or our bodies. (Something tells me it is no coincidence that my "mom" and I are both so sick...)
And this is taking place in the middle of a fairly civilized settlement. They are still able to scavenge enough water to get by.
It is absolutely heartbreaking to realize that there is a much more terrible story taking place every day on this tiny planet. Over 1 billion people lack safe drinking water EVERY DAY. With NO promise of a water truck coming soon.
Fast from water for a day. Google "African/Indian Water Crisis". Or visit h2oafrica.org, waterwellsforafrica.org, or thewaterproject.org and let your heart break.
"And what I say to you I say to all: stay awake." Mark 13:37
We rely on Algerian water trucks to fill the metal koobah containers outside our tent, but the one belonging to my family has a leak...thus, I have had the opportunity to contemplate for the past several days the very important issue of water.
They say the wars of my generation will be fought over water...Now, my family has been able to borrow a pitcher or two here and there in order to cook and take care of the bare necessities, and Sarah and I still buy bottled water to drink, but it has still been a sobering experience.
The 'bathroom' is horrendous. Human excrement is overflowing because we have no way to flush. We have been unable to wash our clothes or our bodies. (Something tells me it is no coincidence that my "mom" and I are both so sick...)
And this is taking place in the middle of a fairly civilized settlement. They are still able to scavenge enough water to get by.
It is absolutely heartbreaking to realize that there is a much more terrible story taking place every day on this tiny planet. Over 1 billion people lack safe drinking water EVERY DAY. With NO promise of a water truck coming soon.
Fast from water for a day. Google "African/Indian Water Crisis". Or visit h2oafrica.org, waterwellsforafrica.org, or thewaterproject.org and let your heart break.
"And what I say to you I say to all: stay awake." Mark 13:37
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