expansion

I've finally done enough shopping, driving, eating, reading, tv watching, and resting to comment on something really incredible.

one year ago i left this country to "expand my horizons" as my mother would say. I went to Egypt to serve and also to grow, to have my eyes opened, my mind expanded, my understandings of various things broadened, etc etc etc.

When I got there, I found my choices severely limited compared to living here. I expected some of this--the fewer choices of foods, of various consumable products, etc. I expected a limitation to be placed on my general freedom, since I am a woman. I did not expect quite the limits I found, but I eventually learned to live within them. I ate the same two cereals all year (until my dad came to visit with some Cinnamon Toast Crunch!), I drank the same two flavors of juice, I ate the same vegetables. I learned how to get around without getting harassed (as much) by going the same way, seeing the same people, taking the same taxi, not going to new places, etc. And I looked forward to the expansion of my freedom and my choices when I returned to America.

Well, now I've returned. I'm still a little limited--by my resources, by the fact that I'm mooching off friends and family, and the fact that I don't have a car here in Atlanta. But my choices here are incredible--I can go to the park, I can walk around the neighborhood, I can call my friends, I can watch TV, I can do all kinds of things and no one even looks twice at me.

However, one area where I've found the expansion of choices overwhelming is in the realm of shopping. During the past year, several products have expanded their product lines so the old products are nearly impossible to find. One example: the cereal aisle. No longer are there four types of cheerios (which is already ridiculous)--now in addition to regular, frosted, honey nut, and team cheerios there are berry cheerios, yogurt cheerios, multi-grain cheerios, and apple cinnamon cheerios. I didn't even see the yellow box. No longer do we have lucky charms--now we have lucky charms, berry lucky charms, chocolate lucky charms, and less-sugar lucky charms. Cinnamon Toast Crunch is now next to French Toast Crunch. Don't even get me started on Honey Bunches of Oats or Smart Start. The cereal options now run the full length of an aisle in the grocery store. The cereal bars (which have also expanded significantly) are on the other side of the aisle now.

Many people have written about what's being called the "tyranny of choice" (this link is to the best synopsis of the research article you would otherwise have to pay for...which is linked to in this article, in case you feel like paying for it). It seems that we have a lot more money and a lot more choices than we did 30 years ago (duh) but that fewere Americans report that they are happy. Apparently "maximizers"--people who strive to make the best possible choice each time (so, people like me, then)--are the least happy because they are constantly weighing options and second guessing and wondering if they made the best choice.

Now I've lived in some places where I didn't have a lot of choices--in Scotland I didn't have choices at all because I was fed every meal in the refectory and the only entertainment on the island was the (singular) pub or nature (gorgeous). I loved 99% of the minutes I spent there. In Egypt, things were different and sure, I chafed under the restriction at times, but as far as the grocery store goes I didn't feel limited aside from the lack of leafy green veggies. the whole freedom-to-be-a-person thing, that's different. But choice-wise, it was okay. And now that I've come back to even more choices than I had when I left, I am really feeling this.

Jason and I spent over an hour in the grocery store last week. Most of that hour was spent wandering, staring at all the new stuff and wondering why we need 8 flavors of cheerios. I think I was in the cereal aisle (by myself) for at least 15 minutes. I couldn't find anything. The boxes have changed, in many cases (I had no idea which kind of SmartStart I wanted because the box looks different!). There are three or four (or more) flavors of everything where there used to be one or two. It was crazy. I was almost paralyzed with trying to decide about things that, half an hour before, I hadn't known existed. If I had been on the cereal aisle of the western supermarket in Cairo, I would have had about 10 or 20 choices of cereal, more than half of which would have been WAY out of my price range. I would have picked up the same two cereals I'd eaten the previous month. If I'd been at ZamZam, our local grocer, I would have gotten corn flakes, and then stopped for bananas from the fruit man because Egyptian cornflakes are gross.

But here...here, I stood in the aisle with my cart. I looked up and down. I walked left and right. I stared at 40 feet of five shelves of colorful boxes, and all I wanted was...everything. Honeycomb, Apple Jacks, those new not-Apple-Jacks, every flavor of Lucky Charms (except chocolate, eew), all four kinds of Captain Crunch, three types of Raisin Bran, and everything else that would fit in my cart. I couldn't choose the best thing, because everything looked good (well, not shredded wheat, but you know...). What was going to taste best? What was going to be healthiest? Would any cereal manage to be both healthiest and best tasting?

I left the aisle with SmartStart (heart healthy, with no weird dried fruit or anything), Quaker Oh's (nothing's changed there!), and Barbara's Cinnamon Puffins (again, nothing's changed--good ol' organics!).

I left the store with four types of berries, cool whip free (yum), veggies, bananas, and stuff to make an egyptian dinner. Speaking of which--did you know that Athenos Hummus has expanded from just two flavors to about 10? Red Pepper, Roasted Eggplant, Black Olive, Greek Style, Original, and more! Can you imagine being an Egyptian in a Publix for the first time? oh my, let the panic begin.

Has anyone tried those new dark chocolate m-n-ms in the purple package?

Here I go, maximizing again--seeing what choices other people are making and soliciting feedback trying to find out the best kind of m&ms to eat. really.

Seriously, I do think we have too many choices in this country. We have this idea that more is better (goes right along with "bigger is better"). But is it? Or are all these choices just taking over our lives? Arabic speakers who learn English often use the phrase "take a decision" rather than "make" a decision. I have wondered about this, because it seems strange. But here, maybe it's right, only in this country, the decisions have taken us--hostage.

Lies, All Lies!

a sermon for my "Final Assessment" with my Committee on Preparation for Ministry in Chicago Presbytery, adapted from my ordination exam exegesis paper.

Jeremiah 7:1-15 The word that came to Jeremiah from the LORD: Stand in the gate of the LORD's house, and proclaim there this word, and say, Hear the word of the LORD, all you people of Judah, you that enter these gates to worship the LORD. Thus says the LORD of hosts, the God of Israel: Amend your ways and your doings, and let me dwell with you in this place. Do not trust in these deceptive words: "This is the temple of the LORD, the temple of the LORD, the temple of the LORD."

For if you truly amend your ways and your doings, if you truly act justly one with another, if you do not oppress the alien, the orphan, and the widow, or shed innocent blood in this place, and if you do not go after other gods to your own hurt, then I will dwell with you in this place, in the land that I gave of old to your ancestors forever and ever. Here you are, trusting in deceptive words to no avail. Will you steal, murder, commit adultery, swear falsely, make offerings to Baal, and go after other gods that you have not known, and then come and stand before me in this house, which is called by my name, and say, "We are safe!"-- only to go on doing all these abominations? Has this house, which is called by my name, become a den of robbers in your sight? You know, I too am watching, says the LORD.

Go now to my place that was in Shiloh, where I made my name dwell at first, and see what I did to it for the wickedness of my people Israel. And now, because you have done all these things, says the LORD, and when I spoke to you persistently, you did not listen, and when I called you, you did not answer, therefore I will do to the house that is called by my name, in which you trust, and to the place that I gave to you and to your ancestors, just what I did to Shiloh. And I will cast you out of my sight, just as I cast out all your kinsfolk, all the offspring of Ephraim.
~~~~

Imagine yourself in a crowded place—the state fair, the mall on the day after Thanksgiving, or the line to get a tour of the White House or the Washington Monument. Can you feel it? The bodies, the heat, the anticipation. Can you smell it? The air, the grass, the car exhaust, the food. Can you see it? The colors, the masses of people, the hairstyles, the clothes, the children. Can you hear it? The voices, the machines, the music. Listen harder…there’s one voice standing out, and there’s a crowd gathering over there to the left—who is it? What’s he saying? Ooh, he’s one of those people—he has shaggy hair and tattered clothes, and a voice that carries through town while he makes all those crazy pronouncements. You know the type—the sandwich-board wearing, cross-carrying park-preachers. They’re always talking about the end times, the last days, the judgment of the earth, and telling us to hurry up and repent. Well, they haven’t been right yet, have they?

This is what it must have felt like for Jeremiah’s crowd. They came to Jerusalem, maybe for a festival or maybe just to make a pilgrimage, or maybe to sacrifice on behalf of their family, their village, or a particularly heinous sin they’d committed. They came with their lambs and goats and turtledoves, they came with their money, their grain, and their oil. There were lots of people, lots of priests, lots of sacrifices, and a lot of blood. The air smelled of smoke and blood. The people smelled like they’d walked a long way. The crowds were excited, the voices were loud, and the people rejoiced that they’d completed requirements for forgiveness.

And then they heard the voice, the voice claiming to speak for the LORD. “Do not trust in these deceptive words, ‘This is the temple of the LORD, the temple of the LORD, the temple of the LORD.’”

Wait….I thought that was the whole point of the Temple? God lives here! God said he would live here, and we would be safe! God said she would live here forever with us, and that we would live forever here in the land with God. What is this crazy man going on about now?

“Here you are, trusting in deceptive words to no avail. Will you steal, murder, commit adultery, swear falsely, make offerings to Baal, and go after other gods that you have not known, and then come and stand before me in this house, which is called by my name, and say “We are safe!”—only to go on doing all these abominations?”

Well, I mean, that’s why we made the sacrifices, right? That’s why we brought the perfect lambs and the grain and oil, that’s why we walked all the way here…just because we sacrificed one of the lambs on the high place a few miles back doesn’t make this one any less worthy, right? I mean, we have to cover our bases. Just in case. I’ve never murdered anyone. And I don’t steal! And I certainly don’t lie, except about that missing bread. Besides, that’s why we have this Temple, isn’t it?

“You know, I too am watching, says the LORD.”

Oh.

“Go to Shiloh and see.”

Uh-oh.

“Therefore I will do to the house that is called by my name, in which you trust, just what I did to Shiloh.”

No—you can’t! You promised! This man is crazy—let’s stone him!

Jeremiah tells these words of the LORD—and they are not popular words. Words like “hypocrites” and “idolaters” and “liars.” The people of Judah are not doing a good job at keeping the covenant God made with them—did you notice the commandments mentioned here? The LORD, through Jeremiah, accuses the people of stealing, murder, adultery, swearing falsely, making offerings to Baal…these are serious offenses here at the center of this passage. Even worse, though, is what the people do in conjunction with these offenses—they come to the house of the LORD and say “We are safe!” and then leave the house and break the covenant again and again.

Why can’t they just do what’s asked of them—to act justly with one another, not oppress the alien, the orphan, and the widow, not shed innocent blood, not go after other gods? Why can’t they just amend their ways?

Well, that always sounds easier than it really is. I’m sure we’ve all tried to change a habit—it takes time. To change from always being late to always being early, to change our eating habits, to stop smoking. And here Jeremiah is talking about much more serious change—he’s talking about a change from lies to truth. The people of Judah have been lying to themselves for years. These deceptive words—“but we have the Temple!”—have gotten them a long way. “We are safe!” they tell themselves as they sacrifice to Baal and to the LORD on the same day. “The LORD promised this land to us” they say over and over as they watch the northern kingdom fall. "We have no serious sin," they say, but the truth is not in us. These are lies, all lies, when not backed up with covenant action. But these lies—the lies they tell themselves, the lies they tell God, the lies they tell one another—they are all to no avail. “I, too, am watching, says the LORD.” There is no safety in lies. The temple rituals mean nothing when they are not accompanied by true repentance—a turning from the bad and to the good. It’s not just about not murdering and stealing, it’s also about acting justly and welcoming others. It’s not just about making the right moves in the Temple, it’s also about not going to the high places and making back-up offerings to another god. It’s not just about coming to church and saying the right words from memory, it’s also about acting like a follower of Jesus on Tuesday. What the people do in the Temple, or what we do in the church, doesn’t matter nearly as much as what they (and we) do outside those buildings.

But but but! I can practically hear the people of Judah exclaim. God did promise us this land, and God did promise to dwell here forever! Those aren’t lies—that’s the truth! Flip back a few pages and read it for yourself! Well, that’s true. But God didn’t say “here’s some land, have fun!” God made a covenant. And that covenant has rights and responsibilities, blessings and curses. You don’t get the land without the book. Jeremiah reminds the people of Judah what happened up north in Israel, with that whole Shiloh fiasco. God said God would dwell with them at Shiloh, and look what happened! The people didn’t keep their end of the bargain, and Shiloh was destroyed. The southerners thought that they were different than those northerners. To be compared to the north was an outrage—perhaps one reason Jeremiah was nearly murdered for this sermon. Walter Brueggemann says that “everyone listening knew of Shiloh—that it was a northern shrine and that long ago it had vanished from history, destroyed because of disobedience. It was also part of the self-understanding of the southern community that northern Shiloh and southern Jerusalem are precise opposites. Whereas Shiloh is rejected by God and therefore destroyed, Jerusalem is chosen and valued by God, and therefore safe.”

Jeremiah, however, is engaged in proclaiming exactly the opposite. He argues that Jerusalem is just like Shiloh. Jerusalem is the current dwelling place of God, the meeting place of the tribes, the place of worship. “It is just like Shiloh in that it must obey to survive. It is just like Shiloh in its profound disobedience. And therefore, it is just like Shiloh in that it must be destroyed.” Just as Israel was wicked and its temple was destroyed and the people carried off by the Assyrians, now Judah too is wicked and the temple can be destroyed and the people carried off to Babylon. Jeremiah seems to be saying, “remember last time? It could, and it will happen again!” But the people of Judah are too mired in their own lies to believe him. They have told themselves that they’re different, that those rules don’t apply, that everything is just fine—and they’ve made themselves believe it. They trust in deceptive words.

I’m sure we can all think of some deceptive words we have put our trust in, maybe even some that were painfully exposed as lies. “This is America—nothing can happen to us.” “We’re the richest people in the world—no one is hungry here.” “This will make our country safer.” There is no safety in lies. There is safety only in the Truth, in living within the covenant. The lies we tell ourselves, or that others tell us, will get us nowhere. We have to live like we believe what we say in church. We have to act outside the way we act inside these walls. Otherwise we are just lying to ourselves.

I saw some examples of this during my year in Egypt. I was astounded at the way people treated each other on the street. As I walked down the sidewalk, I noticed that people were completely indifferent to others on the sidewalk or road. People don’t move—they just run into each other or wait for the other person to yield. They don’t wait for people to cross the street, they just nearly hit them with their cars. They shout at each other. Men harass and abuse women right on the sidewalks. I was also appalled by the way they treated their environment—they just toss garbage on the road, the sidewalk, out the car window, even out the windows of the Metro trains. I’m surprised the subway tunnels haven’t filled up with trash.

I remember the first time I went into the Coptic Orthodox Cathedral complex—the walled-in city block where Christians gather for worship, fellowship, education, and all kinds of activities. It is one of the cleanest places in Cairo—no trash to be seen. Inside, everyone is friendly. Soon, I started to notice outside on the streets and sidewalks that I could tell who was a Christian—they put their trash in the trash cans posted along the sidewalk. They helped anyone they saw. They stepped aside when people walked toward them on the sidewalk. They picked up things others dropped, helped elderly women across the street, and were friendly if you made eye contact with them. If they were harassed (which women often were since they wore no headcovering), they simply greeted the person and moved on. In other words, they showed the love they have received, they tried their best to uphold the covenant.

I admit that I often admired this behavior from afar. I found myself often angry at the men on the streets, and there were times when I would run into people on the sidewalk because I was so annoyed that they didn’t even appear to notice that they were blocking the entire sidewalk. But gradually I found out what it means to be a Christian in a place where few others are, what it means to live out the things we say in church, to act the way Jeremiah says we must. To act like the words in this book make a difference to our lives and thoughts, to our interactions with people—both strangers and friends, to our treatment of the environment. To act ilke followers of the One who fulfilled the covenant. I found out what it means to turn not just my words but my life from falsehood to truth.

The people to whom Jeremiah was speaking found themselves trusting in falsehoods they had created for themselves. Each breach of covenant revealed a new lie the people were living. How often we stay in our comfortable lies….but the truth is that the LORD requires justice and faithfulness of people, and then God will dwell in the house called by God’s name. The truth is that God has come in person and lived this covenant with and for us, and made us into his body on earth. Remember that 1st Peter says we are the living stones that are being built into God's house? How lovely it will be in this dwelling place of God when we turn from the lies and place our trust not in deceptive words but in the Word made flesh.

Amen.

(Walter Brueggemann quotes from A Commentary on Jeremiah: Exile and Homecoming, pub. 1998.)

one week in America

I almost used a line from the over-played BareNakedLadies song...but I declined that opportunity.

It's been five days since we returned to the USA. And while I haven't exactly done a lot of things, I do have a few reflections.

1. I really love not having to squeegee my bathroom floor after taking a shower.

2. I love drinking cold water right out of the tap even in the middle of a 100-degree afternoon.

3. I love the way people drive between the lines on the road.

4. I love that there isn't any garbage on the ground (okay, at least there's not a lot of garbage on the ground).

5. I LOVE the grass and trees and clean air!!

~~~
1. I think those stores everywhere are absolutely humongous. I went to the mall the other day and across the street was a complex of BestBuy, Bed Bath & Beyond, and Toys R Us. Those stores were so big that "big box store" didn't even begin to describe them. I thought I was in a Super Mario Brothers game.

2. I went into a Publix for a sandwich and I only went on ONE AISLE in the store and found that I wanted every single thing I saw. There are all kinds of new products that I wanted to try--plus I was starving--and I thought I might die if I couldn't have the SmartStart cereal bars, the powdered-sugar donuts in a bag, the weight-watchers snack cakes, five different kinds of juice, the mixed berries already washed in a container, a salad, and five packs of cheese.

3. I went shopping for some interview-worthy clothes (I'm going to a weekend-long church visit in two weeks and didn't really bring home any clothes like that...or really many clothes at all) and found myself aimlessly wandering huge stores wondering what to do with myself. I ended up checking out twice at a department store because I just assumed that I only wanted the one thing I tried on...and then I found myself in a different quadrant of the same floor of the store, trying on more things. oy!

4. It's incredible to go places and have people be friendly--in my language. It's like being myself again. At the same time, though, I have actually found myself unable to understand people sometimes , I think because I don't expect to be able to understand everything around me. Also, I do miss Arabic. Jason and I are still speaking to each other in Arabic sometimes. It's nice.

5. It's strange to get emails back right away. I sent an email the other day and within half an hour had several responses. I was so shocked, because all year I've been 7 or 8 or 10 hours ahead of most people on my email list! I was like "why are they online in the middle of the night? oh...they're not, it's 11am." duh. Things happen much faster here. I'm glad of that, but it's also a little overwhelming.

Those are the thoughts for today. I should be working on a sermon for my CPM on Jeremiah 7. I'm off to do that. ttfn!

Friday Five on Saturday...again

It's been one year since the RevGalBlogPals ring started. And so, this anniversary Friday Five:

1) What is your first memory of the RevGalBlogPals?

It was October. I lived in Egypt. I read a blog (I can't remember whose). I saw a strange blogring box in the sidebar. I thought "I don't like the look of those boxes." Then I thought "but this sounds so cool!" I clicked the link. It looked neat. I joined.

2) Have you met any of the other ring members in real life?

I already knew several of them...Reverend Mother, NotShyChiRev, Miranda (My Farcical Existence), Amy (It's Not Just About the Camel Dance), and Julie (Musings). I'm just two days away from meeting Reverend Mommy.

3) Of those you haven't met, name a few you would love to know in person.

hmm...probably lots of them. Check my sidebar for blogs I read--those are mostly the people I'd like to meet sooner rather than later.

4) What has Ring Membership added to your life?

women clergy role models, support, and fun. plus a fantastic way to spend my "free" time.

5) Describe a hope for the future of the WebRing.

Just like everyone else has said, I would love a retreat or something! And naturally more books. I love books. :-)

arrived

I have arrived.
and seen good friends.
and eaten.
and consumed cherry vanilla dr. pepper.
and slept.
and woke up BEFORE 7am, which I think is actually a crime.
and watched lame morning tv.
and checked my email.
and now...i'm going to take a shower in a bathtub with a door, and I am not going to have to squeegee the floor when i'm done, and it will be GREAT.
ttfn.

ps. it's quite nice to be back.

Leaving, on a Jet Plane

cross-posted from Adventures in Egypt, so you all can see it without clicking another link. Also, there are a lot of things I want to say about Israel and Gaza and Lebanon, but I'm using our dial-up so I don't really have time. Maybe when I get home. Until I get there, tomorrow afternoon American Time!, enjoy this and pray for safe travels. Love to you all! peace...Teri

Leaving, on a Jet Plane
My last letter from Cairo
July 16 2006

At this moment, I sit in my living room surrounded by two full, 23-kilogram suitcases, a backpack, and a laptop case. I have four candles burning—trying to make things smell homey though they don’t look homey anymore. Most of my food is gone—just a few things left to eat today. Everything is off the walls. My dresser, closet, desk, and bookshelves are empty. Trash bags abound—some filled with actual garbage which will be carefully sorted and recycled by the Christians in Garbage City, some filled with clothes and shoes and toiletries to be donated to the African refugees who come to St. Andrew’s church for help. Our internet is down so you may not get this until I get home…but, this being Cairo, it may come back anytime so we’ll just hope for the best.

Yesterday Naadia, one of our cleaning women, came to my room and looked at my suitcases and said something along the lines of, “oh, all your things are ready, your room is empty, I’ll miss you!” Even after a year of hanging out with Naadia and Marsa, who speak no English, I still often only get the basic gist of what they’re saying. A lot of the time I nod my head as though I understand when actually I caught only a few words. But yesterday needed no translation—Naadia is my friend, and she considers me like one of her children (grandchildren?). She has been here to help me figure things out in Dawson Hall, to wash my dishes if she felt I wasn’t getting to that quickly enough, to buy my groceries because it’s inappropriate for me to be the only young single woman in the market, to celebrate and to be sad at various times. Naadia has been working here for something like 15 years—long before the Young Adult Volunteers started staying here, and now she will continue after us as well, since there will be no volunteers here next year. When she said goodbye to us yesterday (she doesn’t work on Sundays—she goes to church to pray for us, she said!), she nearly had tears in her eyes as she said she wanted us to come back to Egypt soon, that she loves us and will miss us. And I will miss her too—she’s so friendly and helpful, loving and kind. I have learned a lot of things from Naadia and Marsa this year—about cooking, cleaning, fixing stopped-up drains and broken stoves, lighting the big oven in the common kitchen, hanging clothes to dry outside without getting them dirty, about Arabic, about their families, about how we do things in Egypt, about how to be a true servant and a joyful Christian. These women are really incredible. They can’t read, but they have great memories. They can’t speak my language and I can’t really speak theirs, but we have communicated with love.

As I prepare to leave Egypt in just a few hours, I am reflecting on some of the things I have learned this year. And so I am going to share them with you—serious and silly, in no particular order.

· There are definitely things I have struggled with this year, as many of you know. I went through a phase several months ago in which I really disliked this place, the way men treat women, the way people treat each other, the trash everywhere, the pollution, the lack of what my grandparents would call “common sense,” etc. But as I looked through photos the other day, I found myself really missing some of these places and people already. I actually discovered that, in my heart, I like Egypt quite a bit.

· I found out that I don’t use as many toiletries as I expected. In fact, I have leftovers of everything—probably enough toothpaste for another year, enough deodorant for four more months, and enough skin care products for another month or two at least. The only thing I guessed pretty accurately about was conditioner—my Dad brought me another bottle of conditioner because I was definitely running out…and I did have to use it, for about a week. So let that be a lesson—I don’t use as much of that stuff as I think I do!

· I have by no means acquired enough Arabic to be considered fluent or even mildly proficient. Jason and I were discussing yesterday that somewhere in the realm of verbs and not-as-simple adjectives, we are completely clueless. I tried to say last night “please give this photo to Mehir” and realized that I don’t know the words for give, take, receive, gift, etc, or how to say “to” someone. So I was left with the broken sentence “I won’t see him again…please (insert hand gestures miming giving something away) Mehir.” Crazy. I came here this year really hoping to leave proficient in this language. Then I tried to learn it. And then I went to work in a school where I was forbidden from speaking Arabic to students. So I never really practiced and I missed out on a lot of things—like verbs. oops. Maybe one day I will try again.

· On the other hand, I feel I have learned a surprising amount of Arabic. I can get along in a simple conversation, I can shop, I can get a taxi, I can talk to Naadia and Marsa and our gate guards about goings-on in our house, and I can talk about food like nobody’s business! I love food, so of course that’s the one thing I am fairly proficient in talking about. Bring on the food talk!

· It’s not so bad to have to wash your feet at the end of the day. In fact, it feels nice. But if you start needing to wash your feet (or your face) multiple times every day, I think we’ve crossed a line of grossness that just shouldn’t be crossed. Sadly, I crossed this line a couple of weeks ago, when it started to get really really hot and people started watering the road (why, we don’t know) with more frequency, leading to hidden puddles of nastiness and humidity rising off the sidewalk or street. Plus there’s been electrical work/construction going on in Dawson Hall for the past two weeks, so our house is covered in plaster dust and who-knows-what-else. Eew.

· Working in the seminary library I finally feel like I did something tangible. It was very task-oriented, which was nice because so much in Egypt feels disorganized so making something more orderly was a real bonus for me every day! Plus there are really great people working in the seminary library! I have definitely found myself swinging between two poles lately: the “I am in no way qualified to be a pastor, I should just do some kind of task-oriented job” pole and the “oh my goodness please get me out of this task-oriented fiasco and let me deal with people and worship and preaching and youth again!” This year I have really missed many things about being a pastor—especially leading worship. And I found that when I started teaching the teen class at the Coptic Cathedral, I had really missed youth ministry too. I loved those girls—we had so much fun playing games, reading stories, learning together, and generally being cool. I am sad to leave them after only 6 weeks together, but I know they will remember me, and I will remember them. Plus they really helped me to clarify my call to be involved in youth ministry in some way.

· Mango juice is back—I’m so glad I didn’t leave before mangos came in season again! Fresh mango juice in Egypt (which is widely reported to have the best mangos in the world) is one of the most wonderful things you can put in your mouth. ooh, it’s so good. Right now the juice stands have bags and bags of mangos hanging outside, and on Ramses Street (where we live) it’s quite a sight to behold, since there’s a juice shop every 50 yards or so. Incredible.

· After a whole year, I can safely say that my favorite place in Cairo is the Coptic Orthodox Cathedral. It’s about a five minute walk from our house, and it is full of interesting people and things. Only Christians are allowed inside the gates (they check for cross tattoos, IDs, etc at the gate)—supposedly for “safety” because the pope lives in the humongous complex. Inside there’s the church, a seminary, a library (with books mainly in Coptic and Arabic), an icon workshop, a couple of canteens/cafeterias, some shops, a sport club, the pope’s house, lots of offices, green courtyards with chairs, and lots of friendly people. Only once have I been stared at by men in the Cathedral complex. Never have I heard a rude comment or been touched or anything. Instead I have found friends wandering all over the place, just hanging out, or waiting for a class to start. I have made friends over snacks, taught classes, sat in the grassy cross-shaped courtyard, bought an icon (and made friends with the artist) and looked at cheesy stuff in the shops. The Cathedral is the best thing about living in this neighborhood, and one of the things I will most miss.

· I am really looking forward to going somewhere with normal water. The water here smells very strange—I can’t even describe the smell, but it’s quite gross. In the summer there is no sign whatsoever of cold water after about 10 am—in fact, the other day I found that the water coming from the cold tap was hot enough to make me pull my hand out…I could probably have cooked a cup-a-soup with that water. Oh, for cold water during the hot part of the day!

These are just a few of the things I have been noticing and thinking about this week as I have prepared to leave. In just 12 hours Jason and I will leave Dawson Hall for the airport. If all goes well we will arrive in Atlanta 19 hours after that. So 31 hours from right now, we’ll be home—insha’allah. It’s quite an impressive thing, and also a strange thing, to think that we can leave a whole way of life behind in a few hours. I feel like I’ve been preparing to leave for a few weeks now, but also it kind of snuck up on me—the realization that I won’t be back at the library on Monday, that I took my last taxi ride yesterday, that I went to church here for the last time, that I ate my last fuul sandwich, that I won’t be having any more ice cream from the Christian-run sweet shop, that I won’t see the Cathedral again, etc. The last few days I have been focusing on things that need to be done when I get home—making doctor’s appointments and hair appointments, preparing for interviews with churches and my presbytery committee, buying shoes online, getting a cell phone service set up, etc. It feels weird to do those things, to move back into the American Way of Life. But they must be done. The tricky bit will be trying to adapt the American Way of Life to my broadened understanding of life in all its fullness.

I think that’s more than enough for one day—plus, it’s lunch time. I need to go eat up the last of my food! I hope our phone line and internet connection comes back on in time for me to send this to you before I leave. If not, know that I’m thinking of you and hope to hear from you soon…since you’ll be reading this when I’m already home!

Thank you for your support of me and this program during this year. It’s been really wonderful—a growing and learning experience, a great privilege, and an incredible opportunity to live with people in a different part of the world. I look forward to sharing more of the experience with you. In the meantime, check out my website at http://clevertitlehere.blogspot.com and my photos at http://photos.yahoo.com/tericarol21.

rabbina mayku

maa salaama

Teri

Friday Five: Pet Peeves

The RevGalBlogPals Friday Five...


1. Grammatical pet peeve: the misused apostrophe. Sadly, all over non-english speaking countries, and the south, the apostrophe works serious unpaid overtime. It absolutely drives me crazy--it's, your's, etc etc etc. grr.

2. Household pet peeve: trash on the counters. if you empty a box or package or wrapper, throw it away--don't leave it on the counter.

3. Arts & Entertainment pet peeve (movie theaters, restaurants, concerts): sticky floors. also talking during classical concerts, plays, operas, etc. the occasional whipsered comment is okay, but excessive use or full-voice should result in fines or something.

4. Liturgical pet peeve: energy-less worship leadership. like declarations of forgiveness or acclamations or whatever said with no enthusiasm whatever, just totally deadpan "we are forgiven. thanks be to god. alleluia. amen." without even a fluctuation in tone or pitch or ANYTHING. come on, people--this is GOOD NEWS!!! Is that how you share good news with your family? No. "mom! guess what! I got a job!" or "guess where she got into college!!?!?!?!" or "we're getting married" or whatever--good news requires a good energy, not life-sucking dreariness.

5. Wild card--pet peeve that doesn't fit any of the above categories: when people ask absurd questions designed to make you feel bad, i.e. "do you really want to eat that?" or "are you just going to leave that pile of paper on your desk?" or some such thing. I also really don't like for people to touch my hair. You need special permission to touch my hair, and few people get it, okay? I know it's gorgeous and whatnot, but unless you're blind I don't want you looking at my hair with your hands without permission. Thanks.

Bonus: Because all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God: What do YOU do that others might consider a pet peeve?: I have high expectations--maybe too high. Also I tend to make requests with a "do you want to ____" which apparently drives Jason up the wall.

New Photos

new photos are up in the following albums on my yahoo photo page (with new pics in parentheses):

Alexandria (the library, Jen and Jennifer at school, etc)
Cairo 7--Islamic Cairo, Khan, & Citadel (the Citadel)
Tel Basta and Minya-el-qamh (all new!)
Cairo 8--Around Town (all new!)
Tukei's going-away party (all new!)
Hurghada in June (all new!)
Wadi Natroun (all new!)
The Coptic Cathedral (all new!)
Coptic Cairo (museum and street scenes)
Egypt--events and organizations (seminary graduation added at the top of the page)

If it doesn't say "all new" then the new photos are nearer to the bottom unless otherwise noted.

I hope you enjoy these!

insha'allah

“insha’allah” is an Arabic word that means “God willing.” I suspect that this word gets more use in Egypt than any other word. A close second? “ilhamdulillah”—Thanks be to God.

This is strange to Westerners, because we just are not used to people invoking God all the time, even about everyday things. For instance, in America if someone asks “how are you?” you will usually respond with, “fine, thank you.” Here, someone asks “izayik?” (how are you?) and the response is often simply “ilhamdulillah” or sometimes “kwayesa, ilhamdulillah” (good, thank God).

The same goes for insha’allah. When you leave work, you say to other people “see you tomorrow” or Monday or whenever. Here, you say “ishufak bokra, insha’allah”—I’ll see you tomorrow, God willing. Or when something needs to get done, the person will often tell you when but add “God willing.”

Tonight at church the preacher talked about this a little bit, but she went somewhere different than I have been thinking. She of course wanted to talk some about free will and whether “God willing” and free will were compatible. I, however, have been thinking about this rather differently.

I often feel that people here use this phrase to shrug off responsibility, and to promote apathy. This is a country with 35% unemployment, with a large number of problems, and with a history of other countries stepping in and doing things for them (think Suez Canal, Aswan Dam and High Dam, Cairo Tower, etc). There’s not a lot of responsibility taking—there’s a lot of waiting for things to get better. And I think part of this has to do with the “insha’allah” mentality.

If things happen only because God wills them, why bother doing anything? If you show up late to work (or if you don’t show up to work at all), that was God’s will. If you can’t find a job, it’s because God doesn’t will you to have a job. If there’s a huge problem in the education system, the environmental protection (or lack thereof), or with hunger or illiteracy, it’s because God does not will those problems to be solved. On the other hand, when things do get done, Thank God…and wait for the next thing.

I think it’s important to be grateful, to recognize that power and resources come from God, that God’s will is a major factor. But it’s also important to use the resources you have, to do the work of the kingdom here. Egypt has bunches of university graduates without jobs. Egypt has bunches of really smart people who are leaving the country because only in foreign countries can they research, work, or live safely. Egypt has a history that is the envy of the world. But they have a worldview that promotes apathy. It’s so different from our American “get up and do it! pull yourself up by the bootstraps” mentality. (aside: have you ever thought about that bootstrap metaphor? Do you realize you can’t possibly pull anything up that way? You’ll just be stuck bent over and frustrated. Just saying.) I’m not saying that we’re right or anything...but I am saying that pushing all the responsibility for every little thing—and the big things too—onto someone else or onto God can leave you in a pretty big mess. God gave us brains and talents and resources…and expects us to use them. When we sit around waiting for someone else to do things for us, or when we say “well, God wasn’t willing for me to come to work yesterday” we get into dangerous ground.

What’s disturbing about this to me is that I have felt myself doing it. I say “see you Monday, insha’allah”—and inside I do not want, in any way, to go to work on Monday. I know that I am probably going to go in late because I just don’t want to face the streets in Cairo on Monday morning. So I am providing myself a little insurance by saying “insha’allah”—if I oversleep, if I take a little longer over my tea, if I procrastinate on getting out the door…well…God willed it. (I only do this on Monday morning, I promise!)

What’s good about this to me is that I have really found myself more reliant on God than I have been in the past. I know that it’s only “through Christ who strengthens me” that I can do anything, and that fighting against God is quite the losing battle. Putting the focus on God so often, sometimes in every conversation, reminds me to be correctly oriented. But I still do things, I still work hard, I still intend to use what God has given me. I guess that’s where our cultures clash…

and now it’s the end of the day—ilhamdulillah—and I am going to have a Sabbath tomorrow, insha’allah. woohoo!

taxiing

It’s been a busy day—Jason and I visited the last two places in Cairo we wanted to go before leaving: The Citadel and the Coptic Museum. The Citadel houses one of the most famous mosques in Egypt, the “Alabaster Mosque” of Mohammad Ali. It was truly beautiful, with lots of hanging lamps, a wide open space, and no one “giving us a tour” for baksheesh. The rest of the citadel is more mosques (we visited one other), two museums—the national police museum and the national military museum (we visited the military one…it wasn’t great but was okay)—and some other stuff, I guess…and a lot of vendors trying to sell you “coke sprite fanta ice cream mango juice!”

The Coptic Museum has been closed the entire time we’ve been here, and only recently reopened after 9 months of “one more month!” Their website is still for the old museum, but it's cool anyway. The Museum has been in the news a lot lately because of the Gospel of Judas, which supposedly was/will be returned there. We did not see it today. We did see some really old Coptic manuscripts though, including a fourth century psalter—partially still bound as a book! It was incredible. We also saw frescoes from monasteries and churches around Egypt, stone and wood carvings, textiles, and even toys from the Coptic period (about 100 to 700 AD). I was really really glad we got to visit this museum!

How did we get to all these places? You might be wondering—especially since you probably know already that I don’t enjoy going out and about in Cairo too much. Well, we know a taxi driver who is really incredible. He is a Muslim man, he went to university and graduated, he speaks pretty good English…and he’s a taxi driver. He sometimes shares the car with his father, and together they are the income for their family. Our driver, Sabray, has a wife and a beautiful baby boy named Amr. You may remember him from some photos I took back in October—when the family invited us over for iftar, the dinner-time breaking of the fast during Ramadan. Sabray has been driving us various places whenever we need someone to wait for us while we do things. He’s been our driver for Trudie’s house (Trudie was our counselor these past few months), and he has patiently driven us long distances and waited in the heat, then driven us wherever else we wanted to go—including supermarkets! He’s incredible. I really like him. He’s friendly, he speaks some of my language and I speak a little of his, he’s a good driver (I never feel near death in his car—an unusual experience in a Cairo taxi!), he’s normally prompt, and he doesn’t overcharge. Sabray is one of the few Muslim men I have met in Cairo and don’t have a bad feeling about. So, Sabray, thank you. Thank you for being great and friendly. And to Egypt, I say two things: why can’t more people be like Sabray, and what’s wrong with a system in which a university graduate scrapes a living by driving a taxi?

Independence Day

This is not the first year I've been away on the fourth of July. In fact, this is the fourth time in the past 8 years that I've been out of the US on our big day. (once I was on a plane to London (on the way to Belgium) which was strangely ironic...twice I've been in Scotland...and now here.) It's always a mildly strange feeling, because you feel like you're supposed to be extra-American, you know? But I usually feel strange at home too, because it's so...well, extra-American. Blind patriotism is normally the order of the day, with music and speeches extolling our country as though we were perfect and have made no mistakes ever. Too bad we're in the middle of huge mistakes right now, and other people are suffering from mistakes we continue to make. Not to mention that the ideals the original Revolutionaries and the framers (not farmers) of our Constitution espoused and built our country on--which are incredible, by the way--are being eroded daily. Jason has quite a bit to say about this, so I won't say much. In fact, I've just decided that I won't say anything at all about it...right this minute.

Instead, here's what I want to tell you about.

This past Saturday, several of us missionary-types got together and went to the big yay-US party down in Maadi. About 2,000 Americans and Canadians (plus a few foreign guests) attended. There was food, there was music, there were games--lots of Bingo, some limbo, bouncy castles for the kids, even that cool bungie-on-a-trampoline thing--there were prizes based on your wristband number (yes, we had to show our passports to get in, then they slapped those not-plastic-not-paper American-flag emblazoned wristbands on our right hands...well, wrists). There was baskin robbins (they ran out of ice cream before I even got any!). There was pizza hut. there were hamburgers and hot dogs and pork-n-beans with actual pork (eew). there were beverages provided by coke. there were Lays potato chips. there was lots of grass, lots of English, lots of fun. It was incredibly loud because the speakers were clearly on too high. Anyway, it was great.

And there are a lot of things that I miss about America, being here. The other times I've been away on this holiday, I've been in another Western country with similar ideals (sometimes even better-lived-out than we). But here, it's different. Here you can't talk about the government unless you say nice things. Here you can't use the "m" word (missionary) because "you never know who might be listening" and since evangelism is illegal, it's best to use the word "volunteer." The police are stationed on every corner and they have big guns. The women are covered from head to toe, and if they're not then they're likely to get harassed. There aren't really rules. The government gets huge amounts of money from foreign countries (Egypt gets the second-largest amount of money from the US--first is Israel), but the people see little of it. There's 35% unemployment (on a good day), people are unhappy but see no way to change things, and the largest opposition movement in politics these days is a banned, uber-conservative, islamic faction. It's not at all clear that people like America or Americans, but everyone wants to go there because there's a real idea that it's so much better there.

Is it? I often want to say, "you know, we have problems. We have poverty--crippling poverty for a lot of people. We have drugs, violence, and real uncertainty about the future of some of our civil liberties." But you know what? We have hope. Egyptians may have history, but they've lost hope. Ditto Palestinians. At least in America, there's the sense that things can and will be better, that someone is there to help, that work can be had, that food can be had, that medical care doesn't mean making you sicker, that the government can't just kidnap you in the night from your own bedroom, that you'll HAVE a bedroom, that there can be life. Maybe even abundant life.

Which brings me to a new point: Abundant life only comes from one place. Yes, loyalty to one's country is important. Yes, pride in being an American--a real one, a true patriot who believes in what the country was founded on--is good and right. But allegiance is owed only to one. You know the One I mean. The actual source of hope, the One who gives us courage to face the situations we're in, the One who walks through the bad times with us, the One who inspires us to be the best people we can be, the One who blesses all the countries of the world, the One who bought our independence from death and sin, the One who is life and love and liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

And so today I am thankful that I am an American and that, for the moment, I have rights and privileges and responsibilities. I am thankful for our history and our ideals. I am hopeful that we can admit our mistakes and that we can make progress on some issues that have been stalled for a long time. I am thankful to live in a free country, where I can say, do, think, eat, and wear what I want. I am thankful for the people who fought for our independence.

But I am even more thankful that God so loved the world that God's only Son was sent to secure our independence from something much stronger and more vile than terrorism, communism, or any other -ism you can imagine. And I am hopeful that we humans can live into that independence more and more each day, to the glory of God.

Here endeth the soliloquy on independence.

newsletter

I have posted a new newsletter over on the Adventures in Mission: Egypt site. The link is bright blue in the sidebar...or of course you could use the one in this post! :-)

I just have to do it...

I have been trying not to blog about the General Assembly or the highly controversial Peace, Unity, and Purity (PUP) report. But as I’ve been reading the news, other blogs, and reactions, I just really feel the need to say some things.

The passage of the report in its entirety is, in my opinion, a good thing. I understand the objections about “local option” (which, technically, this is not) and the other standard objections (content-wise) as well. But, realistically, I think what this report does is say to presbyteries and sessions, to Committees on Preparation for Ministry, that we expect them and trust them to do their job.

When a person feels/hears a call to ordained ministry, they go through a few years of pretty intense scrutiny. They meet with their session, with their Presbytery Committee on Preparation for Ministry (CPM) and with the whole Presbytery at a stated meeting. During this process, they write essays, statements of faith, and various other statements (about 9 essays per year). They sit in meetings in which the session and CPM grill them on all topics—both related to what they’ve written and not. At the “end” of the process, they stand on the floor of the presbytery they are being called to and answer more questions. And during this whole process, the session, the CPM, and the Presbytery figure out what the person believes and doesn’t believe, whether the person has a genuine call to ordained ministry, and whether the person has any “scruple” (to use the 1729 language) with the teachings of the church or the constitution of the church. And those bodies--session, committee, presbytery--regularly decide whether those things are so essential or not.

In other words, the sessions, committees, and presbyteries charged with overseeing the ordination process for church officers already do exactly what the PUP report suggests they do. They already apply the national standard to each person and their sense of call. They already use the spirit of that clause in the Adopting Act of 1729 and the constitutional standard that says that those being ordained are entitled to freedom of conscience, at least as far as non-essentials are concerned--and those bodies regularly decide what’s essential. And we don’t see a whole bunch of atheists being ordained. We don’t see a bunch of people who declare a scruple with the resurrection or the Trinity.

What we do see is diversity of opinion and diversity in expression of faith. What we do see is a reflection of the Body. What we do see is that some people make it through the ordination process and some don’t, for a variety of reasons. What we do see is historic Reformed processes at work every day. And so I predict that we won’t see a substantial change because of this “authoritative interpretation”--except that we will, hopefully, see CPMs across the country taking their job seriously, knowing that the trust of the nationwide church has been placed in them.

Styx

One of my mom’s favorite bands was Styx. You know, the south-side-of-Chicago band of the 70’s and 80’s…and 90’s. The rock-ballad band famous for “Babe” and “Lady” and “Mr. Roboto” and such. They are one of my favorite bands as well, because their songs are easily sing-a-long-able, they aren’t afraid of political statements, and, well, they’re cool. It’s good music.

When I was in high school, I took clarinet lessons in Seattle. That meant that every week or two, on a Sunday, my mom and I would drive from Yakima to Seattle (about two-and-a-half or three hours), I would have a two hour lesson, we would eat lunch somewhere and head home again. And, of course, this was just at the beginning of the CD era. We used an ancient portable CD player and hooked it up to a boombox (remember those?) in the backseat of the car—which was the only place available for all that stuff! Later we finally got a car with a CD player in it and we were amazed. I remember one time listening to a CD in the car with my mom and it stopped because the CD player’s batteries died…and we both said “wow, it didn’t slow down or get warped or anything, it just stopped!!” Incredible. Anyway, the point of this story is that we used to organize our CD listening so that the Styx Greatest Hits would be the last thing we would hear on the way home. And if we’d been listening to too much other stuff, we would organize it so that Come Sail Away (track 9, I think?) would be the song playing when we pulled into our street. We both loved that song. Every week we would listen to this CD at the end of our weekly mother-daughter road trip. And when I left home and went to college, then to seminary, we took many more (and much longer) road trips, and we listened to Styx at the end of every day.

When I went to college I of course left that CD for my mom and later bought for myself the “Return to Paradise” 2-CD set, which is of their live shows at the Paradise Theater in the late 90’s. It has more songs on it than mom’s, obviously, but it has all our favorites. I brought it with me to Egypt too because, as I said earlier, it’s one of my favorite bands. It’s fun to listen to.

Well, since my mom died, I haven’t listened to any of the music we used to listen to together. I haven’t listened to Styx, to Chicago, to the Moody Blues, or to any 60’s folk rock at all. Until last night. While I was cooking dinner, I was just really craving some rock ballads, you know? So I put on the first disc of the Styx: Return to Paradise, and chopped lots of vegetables. So many, in fact, that the first disc ended. So I put in the second disc. Still chopping, then eventually cooking, then stirring up cookies, etc…and suddenly there was Come Sail Away, and everything was different. The thought of never taking another road trip with my mom was overwhelming. I think I almost cried in the cookie dough…oops. I couldn’t even sing along. I had thought I could manage this music, but apparently not. Or, on the other hand, this was something I was going to have to do anyway. An opportunity to celebrate some of my favorite moments with my mom, and to have her with me again. Maybe.

Well, after that, I recovered. But then it came to the last song, which I should have remembered about but didn’t. It’s called “Dear John” and is written to the band member that died not too long before the tour now memorialized in a 2-CD set. It always used to make me cry even before my mom was sick or gone, so I should have seen this coming. But I was out of the room baking cookies (my oven doesn’t work so I have to use a different one) during the preceding tracks, so I didn’t notice it was coming. So to walk in to lines like “Dear John, how are you? God knows it’s heaven where you are. Find some peace there, may it never end” and “there’ll be a celebration, where all will be revealed; we’ll have a reunion high on a hill…” was more than I could handle. I definitely was crying now. I miss my mom so much, and I want to be able to take road trips and listen to silly music with her. But I’ll be doing it with myself next time, I guess.

Dear mom, how are you? I know it’s heaven where you are. Please, find some peace there. and if the angels turn out to have a space ship, send me a message so I’m not surprised! love, Teri.

ilhamdulillah!!!!!

Today, one man has redeemed Egypt.

Jason and I shared a taxi today, though we were going to different places. The taxi driver dropped me at the seminary, then took Jason down to Attaba, the square where the Synod of the Nile office is located. Jason got out of the taxi...and then realized he'd left his wallet. He called me in something of a panic and said he was going to borrow some money so he could go home and start making cancellation phone calls for his credit cards, etc. All we could do here was pray. Unlike American cities, there's no real recourse if something is lost in a taxi. Taxi numbers are relatively irrelevant here, there's no number to call, no way to find a taxi.

About an hour after Jason left me here, I got a phone call from the seminary president's office. The taxi driver was there! I ran over (about, oh, 50 feet) and met him. He had Jason's wallet completely intact, credit cards and everything, and only wanted 50 Egyptian pounds (about 8 USDollars) for his trouble. He said he found it when he picked up someone else and took them across town. He went back to the square where he dropped Jason and looked for him, then he asked about the seminary and rushed back here because someone told him we were only open until 1.30 (it must be the president's office!). He recognized me, of course, and made a big show of telling me--and everyone else--that everything was there and he had driven all around looking for us. He was a truly nice man, an honest Egyptian. It was quite an experience.

Thank God for this honest Egyptian taxi driver.

back again, with more goodbyes

Well, we had a vacation. I can't say with any confidence that we had a "retreat" per se, but we did get to hang out on the beach, go on a glass-bottomed boat tour, sleep in, etc. We had only two debriefing sessions, which I found unhelpful. We never discussed any of the impact on or implications of our year here on our faith. We did not at any point apply Bible Study or prayer to our experiences. We spent a lot of time talking about "solitude" as a spiritual practice after a year in which many of us have been inordinately lonely and unsupported. We spent a lot of time listening to Lynn's experiences here (mostly negative) and the reasons they stay here rather than going home. We spent no time whatsoever discussing our group dynamic.
We returned from our weekend with sunburns, of course. Bad ones for me and Jason--ugh. And we returned to leaving preparations for four volunteers--at this moment all three other women and one of the men has left and they will be arriving home tonight. This Sunday another man is leaving. Jason and I will be the only ones here in Cairo for the next month, since we are not leaving until July 17. Saying goodbye to our friends was not easy. I woke up this morning and my first thought was "all my friends are gone!" Their flats are open and empty. It's pretty lonely around here right now.
We returned from our weekend to discover that the flat upstairs had things stolen--a digital camera and a digital video camera. There have been workers renovating the other flat upstairs, and they finished the work over the weekend. One of them was seen by our cleaning women trying to get into Lynn and Dick's flat as well. When the boys upstairs tried to file a report of theft, they accidentally filed an accusation because the person translating for them neglected to translate that paragraph. Now there's a big thing, because several workers were arrested. When the boys found out and tried to say that wasn't what they wanted to do at all, they were threatened with a lawsuit for libel and false accusation. Great. Now that it's all in motion, they are kind of stuck. They are being forced to press the charges...except that they have left/are leaving the country this week! So they had to sign a power of attorney for this case over to the lawyer for Ramses College. Basically, it has to go to a trial (in two months) and then, after that, it's possible (likely?) that the foreman/engineer guy will then press a suit against the boys. OY. This situation is not the way they wanted to leave Egypt. It's also really distressing to think that our house is not even a safe place. I know that in the US these things happen (it's happened to me more than once), but here we don't feel really like anywhere is a safe space. Grr. Anyway, hopefully nothing will come of this for the boys, and also hopefully they will not have this as their overwhelming memory from their year of service.

I am working on a newsletter and so won't be posting as much for a couple days. But I just have to say that the streaming live feed from the General Assembly is not helping me to write the newsletter. It is helping me to get a good dose of decency and orderliness, which I definitely feel lacking in this country.

retreat

we YAVs are going on retreat to Hurghada, leaving in a mere 9.5 hours. We'll be worshipping, talking, snorkelling, lazing about on the beach, and generally getting sunburned. enjoy your weekend...

Saying some goodbyes, already!

It has been an eventful week here because it has been the end of school. I said goodbye to my RCG students almost two weeks ago. And last week was the seminary graduation, when I said goodbye to a few of my students and also to a few students who have been friendly to me this year. The graduation celebration at ETSC is long—like four days long. Guests come from around the world (including a big group from Peachtree Presbyterian in Atlanta). There’s a big party and baccalaureate-type event, with snacks and music, with speeches from various students about “what the seminary has meant to me,” with honoring the guys who graduated 50 years ago by inviting them to speak on various topics (for WAY too long—they were each asked like 5 questions!), with thanking the foreigners who helped during the year (Jason, me, and Esther), etc. The place was packed, but the translation equipment fell through so all the foreigners—including the group from Peachtree—were practically in the dark. For part of the time some of the professors were translating for small groups of people, but they ultimately trailed off and gave up. Foreign guests slipped out until there were none left…and THEN they were thanked and honored. nice move, 50-year-ago-graduate-question-asker!

The graduation ceremony, at the Kasr-el-Dubara church, was nice, though. It was also packed, but there was in fact translation equipment. The headphones kind of hurt my ears, and the translation wasn’t great, but overall it really helped. The commencement address was about the Trinity….it was long and not at all related to the scripture text that had been read earlier (which had already been preached on by a graduating student). In fact, I’m not at all sure what pastor Gindy said about the Trinity, because it was confusing and not well translated. What I remember are his transitions. “And now, the Son.” “What about the Holy Spirit?” It was pretty funny. I also remember the random Egyptian man who sat down next to me when Jason popped up to do his job as informal photographer. He said (in Arabic), “are you American?” (yes) “America good!” (ummm…) “what’s your mobile number?” (I don’t know) “here, take mine and call me right now so I’ll have your mobile number.” (not now, in the middle of the graduation, weirdo! And also, not ever!) Luckily Karla saved me just at the end. The guy wrote down the number for me, which I tried to leave behind, and then he handed it to me telling me I’d forgotten it. Then Karla stepped in with a very mom-voice admonishment “mish kwayes!” (not good!). It worked.

After the graduation I said goodbye to my students. Though I’m working in the seminary library, I’m not likely to see many of them. The ones who didn’t graduate will be busy in their churches or with writing their theses this summer. The only one I’ll see is Esther, who also works in the library. I’ll miss them—though I was nervous at first about working closely with Egyptian men (even though they are Christian and pastors) because we had been lectured about not becoming friends and whatnot, about keeping boundaries with Egyptians, etc. It was a good practice for me at setting pastoral boundaries. Unfortunately I didn’t do it well by cultural standards, apparently…yesterday I had one of the students tell me that on my first day when he invited me to his dorm room to drink tea and I declined, he was offended and didn’t invite me again. In spite of it being in every way culturally inappropriate for me, a single woman, to go to the dorm room shared by two men (one single and one married, but still), I somehow didn’t convey that I was trying to set a boundary. Instead I conveyed that I was unfriendly and didn’t want to be friends with Egyptians. oops. I think I rectified that throughout the year, but wow. Keeping pastoral boundaries is tough work, especially in a cross cultural situation! I hope I can be more sensitive next time, but still hold the boundaries. I also hope that next time I have a “first day” I know a little more about my options! I wish I had known that we could have just gone to the canteen (which is spelled “kanten” on the sign) and sat under the trees with our tea. Oh well…live and learn…and say goodbye to friends of all different kinds.

On Saturday night we had a going-away party for Tukei (pronounced 2-K), the Ugandan student in the Masters program. He has been a really interesting friend this year, because he’s an all-around interesting guy! He’s a Pentecostal pastor from Uganda. He’s witty and smart. He really and truly believes that the Word is the only way to life, that the Spirit indwells those whom God chooses, and all kinds of things. He’s incredible during prayer times, he’s a fiery and passionate preacher, and for a while it looked like he wouldn’t pass on his thesis because he was so passionate in his apologetics RE iconoclasm. As in, he is iconoclastic and he’s living in and writing about the Coptic Orthodox church and its potential relationship to African Traditional Religions. Now, there are plenty of issues with that whole thing, but ultimately he passed and he graduated on Friday…and on Saturday we had a surprise party! A bunch of us gathered together at Brice’s flat in the seminary. Brice took Tukei out for a while, and brought him back to us where we surprised him with food and us! It was incredible. Sung Min, Brice’s girlfriend who is from Korea, made sushi and soup. There was fruit and cake and sweets and pastries and all kinds of things. And after we ate, we talked about all kinds of things—where we’re from, who’s from “the south” of wherever, etc. And then we started the singing. Tukei brought his guitar from his room and sang us some of his original songs he uses for prayer. He sang us a Ugandan song. We got one the Koreans to sing us a Korean song. We sang a Sudanese song with Charles, a refugee. We sang “Father Abraham has many kids” (instead of sons) with Brice. We sang “rock-a my soul in the bosom of Abraham” with Bob the Californian English teacher who was so excited to meet other Christians working in Egypt. Esther (a middle-aged Chinese woman from the Philippines) sang us a Chinese children’s song about the birds of the air and the lilies of the field. It was a really wonderful international sing-a-long. I loved it! That is the kind of thing that just really excites me and makes me happy to be part of the body of Christ—to sing in different languages together. So fun. We had a great party. And now Tukei has flown away to Uganda, where he’s with his family and his church again. God’s blessing on him, and on the other graduates who are beginning new legs of their adventures.

Things I saw and heard at church

* Two weeks ago, the Episcopal Bishop of Egypt and North Africa was at St. John’s church for the confirmation service. He preached during the service, and then did the confirmation ritual for about 8 kids, all expats. One of the things the bishop kept saying was that God wants unity, not uniformity, in the body of Christ. I know we’ve all heard that before, but it was so interesting to hear that out of the mouth of an Egyptian. The culture here (and in Arab countries in general) is a lot about uniformity, conformity, doing what the authority figure wants, etc. To listen to an Egyptian priest say that unity is more important was incredible.

It’s interesting to think about the difference between unity and uniformity, particularly as it relates to church life. The bishop talked mostly about worship style—about the high church and low church differences in the Anglican Communion, I suppose. And of course we recognize that there are diverse ways to worship, different ways to pray, different ways of relating to God (even the dreaded “Jesus is my boyfriend” is one way that helps people be in relationship with God). It’s interesting to think about all those different ways and how they are still really doing the same thing—not uniformly, of course, but worshipping the Holy One nonetheless. The unity of the church is not dependent on whether we all worship the same way, whether we all interpret every word of Scripture or the confessions the same way, whether we recite the Apostles or Nicene or some other creed, whether we pray in English or Arabic, whether we sing Watts hymns or yesterday’s Christian pop. What the unity of the church is dependent on is simply grace. It’s God’s church, not ours. It’s Christ in whom we are one, not our ideas or theologies or interpretations. It’s the Holy Spirit that unifies us in God’s love. We are children of God…and that is unity. No two children in a family are ever the same, but they are still one family. And so in this culture that holds conformity as one of the highest values, it’s truly countercultural to proclaim that diversity is part of unity.

Strange how those cliché catch phrases, like “unity in diversity” can take on new meaning when they come out of different mouths…

* Last week it was Pentecost, and the pastor preached on the Holy Spirit’s rushing wind as an “invasion” of God’s reality into our perception of reality. It made me think of Elias Chacour and how he said that the Holy Spirit “stormed their minds and hearts” that day, and keeps doing so even now. The “Holy Wind” of God, like in the el Greco painting. It was cool. I like to think of “holy wind.” There’s a pretty substantial amount of wind here, mostly coming out of the desert. And I’ve lived in pretty windy places—near mountains and seas and lakes, in big cities with wind tunnels for streets, etc. I like to think that as the wind blows (as in John 3.17), God’s Spirit is rushing off around the world, inspiring and exciting and calling. But I don’t know how I would feel about that image if I lived in tornado alley or in the hurricane belt. I don’t know what kind of holy wind that can be, or if it can be unholy wind in spite of being part of God’s creation, or if that kind of image is too upsetting to people in those areas who’ve lost so much. Since clearly God doesn’t send hurricanes or tornadoes to punish or even to test, it seems a little insensitive to talk about wind being holy in those places. And now I’m rambling about that…but what I want to say is that to me the idea of Holy Wind is as cool as the idea that my mom is in every ocean I visit because we scattered her ashes in the Pacific. She’s everywhere I go now…just like God and wind are everywhere I go.

Also cool, and an idea to tuck away in the Sunday School file: the kids came back from church school wearing flame hats. A piece of orange paper was cut like a flame, then stapled to a paper wrap-around headband, and their name and a language they could speak was written on it before it was sized to their head and stapled together. In an international church, this is really interesting. Kids came in with all kinds of languages emblazoned on the back of their heads, and with flames sticking up from the cowlick place on the back of their heads, and they loved it! I loved it too. I wanted one.

snapshots

*Last week the hose came out again. Outside our building there is a little “green space”…except it’s mostly brown. The hoses came out and they left them on…and on…and on…until we had two small Great Lakes out front. And of course my first thought was, “great…a shot in the arm for our most popular mosquito breeding ground!” And my second thought was, “haven’t they learned that this doesn’t make the grass grow?” Well, I went out and when I came home later in the afternoon I found that a flock of small brown birds was using one of the lakes to play. The birds were drinking, washing, fluttering around, splashing each other, chirping happily. So…no grass, more mosquitoes, and a wonderful birdbath party!

*Jennifer and I have started working at the seminary library. Each day we walk out the gates of RCG and flag down a taxi. We then hand the driver a small pink slip of paper with the address and landmarks and intersection info written on it in Arabic. He nods and we get in the car. Now, I know about two main ways to get to the seminary—one by walking, and one by driving down Ahmed Said street. In the past week we have driven three different ways from RCG to the seminary. Sometimes I wonder if we’re even going to get there. Sometimes we end up lost and I have to give directions to get us out of the industrial neighborhood near the seminary. Sometimes we just go the way I expect. Once we went a totally new way that surprised me with its ease and speed. I am completely intrigued by how taxi drivers take totally different ways to get to the same place at the same time each day. Bizarre. (sometimes, though, they just drive around a long way because they want me to pay them more. It doesn’t work. ha!)

*speaking of the seminary library….Jennifer and I did a shelf-read this week, getting all the books in order before we start the inventory. We learned that sometimes the English alphabet goes in the same order as the Arabic alphabet: a b t th g h kh d dh/z r z s sh S D T Z ay gh f q l m n h w y. And sometimes it goes abcdefrstuvghijklmnop. And sometimes 9 comes before 6 and 7 before 3, etc. It was pretty exciting. We came home one day and joked about playing “library Phase 10.” Phase 10 is a fun card game where you have to complete each phase in order to move on to the next one, and whoever finishes the phases first and has the lowest number of points wins. Each phase has things like “two sets of three” or “a run of 8.” We figure that with this plan, every hand is an automatic winner!

*Yesterday I lost a lot of things. I am really sad about this. In the morning I was supposed to have a meeting with the first-primary teachers so we could say goodbye to one another. Out of 8 teachers, one came. I lost my opportunity to say goodbye to some friends who have been with me all year…and I lost a little of my sense that I’m worth seeing and being around for and important and valued.

At lunch I put a bowl of leftover vegetable risotto (the previous night’s dinner) in the microwave. I was using my loaves-and-fishes mosaic bowl from Tabgha, in Galilee. Well, when I pulled the bowl out of the microwave, it was so incredibly hot that I burned my fingers pretty badly…and dropped the bowl. It broke into a bunch of pieces AND I lost my lunch too. It was my favorite bowl. I am so sad about this, I can’t even tell you. I loved that bowl. I have a matching mug but it is currently missing. I hope to find it tonight, but we’ll see. If I don’t find it, I think I will cry…more.

I was writing in blogger last night and when I tried to save…it had an unscheduled outage. I lost everything I had written. it was the perfect end to the day.

It was a bad day yesterday.