Commercialization and globalization

I went out jogging today at about 8:30 pm, and found myself weaving my way around dozens of tricker-treaters on the sidewalks of the subdivisions around the city of Talca.  The celebration of Halloween is a new phenomenon in Chile.  Tomorrow, Nov. 1., is the day that people in Chile go visit the cemeteries, and though not as big a deal as the "Day of the dead" that I was used to in my childhood in Mexico, it is still a national holiday.  Halloween started making an appearance about ten years ago.  Before, I never saw Halloween candy or costumes sold in the stores.  This year, there were more people on the street than I have ever seen before.  I noticed several things:
*I would say that about 95% of the costumes were store bought - I saw only a few truly original or creative costumes. Most were either costumes from hit movies or Disney productions.
*Most of the tricker-treaters were under 6 years old and were accompanied by young moms.
*Very rarely do I see so many little kids out on a beautiful evening with one or both of their parents.  I guess Halloween was as good as an excuse as any to go out walking with the kids!

It has been amazing to watch the forces behind consumerism at work in Chile carving a new holiday into the sales calender.   It is the wrong time of the year for Thanksgiving, since it is spring, and is nearly two months before Christmas, though many stores are already putting out the Christmas decorations.  I nearly bumped into the saxophone playing electric Santa at the hardware store today!

Peace cannot be reached

Peace cannot be reached

A parable from the Shalom Center in Chile

“There is no path to peace. Peace is the path.” Ghandi

A young learner asked her teacher how to arrive at the destiny that all humans dream of reaching: to live in peace.  The teacher answered, “you must walk.”

The first path the learner chose was a main road with much traffic, noise and pollution.  People ran crazily hither and thither, some blabbing on cellphones, others staring straight ahead, and none paying attention to anyone else.  In the midst of the tumult, between the honking and the bodies in constant movement, two small girls where jumping and twirling gaily around their young mother.  They greeted each passerby and smiled to those who responded as well as to those who didn’t.  When they reached the young learner, they shouted “hello!” with giggle of pure happiness and went on to play tag around a light post.  The road continued as busy as before with its noisy congestion and smoky haze.

The second path taken by the young learner was an alley between high walls.  No one else walked the narrow street.  People in this part of town kept their fears at bay inside their fortified homes. A solitary cat meowed and jumped from a rooftop to the tapered crest of a wall.  The young learner and the cat walked on together:  the girl along the alley whispering her thoughts out loud and the cat bounding from ridge to ridge with perfect balance and occasional purrs. They enjoyed each other’s company until the end of the narrow way.  The cat said good-bye with one last meow. 

The third path lead the learner into green fields decorated here and there with flowers and stands of bushy trees.  She was alone, but she didn’t feel lonely.  The sun warmed her, the wind unsettled her hair and the birds sang and swooped.  She wandered along, stopping to breathe deep, look and listen.

When she finally returned from her walking, her teacher asked, “Which is the path that leads to the destiny called peace?” And the young learner, now the wiser for her walking, answered, “one cannot get to peace; one can only choose to carry peace on which ever path one walks.”

Elena Huegel

June 2009

Retreat in Bolivia

My time at the retreat with the Mennonite Central Committee workers in Bolivia was challenging and enriching.  I facilitated the study time around the theme of  Tree Planted by Living Waters (God with us in all stages of spiritual development.)  The retreat took place at a beautiful place in the middle of growing cane fields.  I so enjoyed sharing with each one of the retreat participants as they prayed and considered their roots, trunk, branches, leaves and fruit.  The group was very diverse: From children to 65 years of age,  Bolivians who didn't speak English and Canadians and Americans who didn't speak Spanish,  Central Americans who spoke both, Mennonites and other denominations from Fundamentalists to Liberals, people who were beginning their ministry and people at the end of their ministry, people who had just arrived in Bolivia and people who had been there all their lives, married, single, separated, divorced and single mothers.  Each person unique and with so much to offer and to share about how God has been with them in each stage of their lives.

Ceibo Tree

This is a ceibo tree that in English it is often known as the Cockspur Coral Tree.

The ceibo is the national tree of Argentina, and its flower the national flower of Argentina and Uruguay, but I have seen it in Paraguay and this photograph was taken in Bolivia at the archaeological site of El Fuerte at Samaipata.   .

Back from Bolivia

 Greetings to all!  I think I was owing those who follow my blog a quick report and a few pictures from my trip to Bolivia.  This is a street in Samaipata, Bolivia.  Samaipata is a Quechua word that means, "The Height to Rest".  It is located in a unique coming together of ecosystems:  The Amazon ecosystem meets the desert plains of the Chaco where they stretch out towards Paraguay and Argentina and a corner of the Andes Mountain ecosystem.  Samaipata is in the mountains, but not so high up as La Paz, and it is a cool relief from the tropical heat and humidity of Santa Cruz de la Sierra, the nearest city.

One little stone

There was once a little stone that lived on the bottom of a crystal clear and bubbling stream that ran through a green valley sprinkled with trees and shrubs.  Life in the stream was quite boring for the stone.  It felt the passing of the water which rubbed it day after day but it was hardly aware that it was being polished into bright smoothness.  It watched the sun and the moon play with their reflections in the water and the fish whirl and jump in the dancing light.  But the stone always thought that there must be more to the world than the stream bed and wondered if someday it would have the chance to escape from the seemingly eternal routine of bubbles, water, and light.

One day, without any warning, the stone suddenly felt itself being lifted out of the water.  For just an instant it was able to see the valley and some of the blue sky, but in the very next instant it felt itself stuffed into a dark bag full of other stones.  It was a very uncomfortable place for at times it smashed against the other stones as the bag bounced up and down.  Little did it know that in the process, it was being changed and molded in the process. It missed the tranquility of the stream.

            The stone did not know how much time had passed when the bag was opened and light poured in.  It rolled out along with the other stones onto something soft and felt itself turned over and set apart.  For just another moment, the stone looked out on the world to see the beauty of the green and the blue bathed in the sun’s glare, but for just a moment because now it was placed all alone in a rough piece of leather.  Then it panicked for the leather began twirling rapidly in the air and the stone became very dizzy.  Just when it thought it would faint with fright, it was flung into the air.  What joy!  Now it could see everything below!  It could see the stream, the grass, the trees, the mountains in the distance, and many men dressed in shiny armor and helmets and holding up swords.  The trip ended quickly for it had just taken in an eyeful when it crashed into something hard.   The stone then fell to the ground.

A few seconds later it felt something heavy land beside it and the earth shook with the fallen weight.  Then something picked the stone up again and a voice said, “Just the little stone I needed and at the moment I needed it.” And the stone returned to the dark bag where it continued with the other stones until it was again needed.

This is the story of David and the giant Goliath, but from the perspective of the little stone and it is a metaphor of my life, objectives and dreams. Sometimes I have been sitting in the stream waiting for something exciting to happen in my  life but didn’t realize that God was polishing me and preparing me.   Sometimes I have been in the dark bag where I have clashed with others and complained of the disagreeable and painful situations I am in.  But God uses the bumping and the dark times to teach me patience and confidence in Him.  Here also I am being molded and readied.  Sometimes I feel dizzy, in a whirling sling of activities, running crazy with thousands of things to do and hardly a moment to catch my breath.  Sometimes I have the opportunity to fly through the air, and with a clarity of vision, I feel the ecstasy of my goal in sight. And sometimes, I am smashing up against giants, hoping against hope that the aim and thrust have been just right to bring it down.   The Bible says that God didn’t look at David’s  size,  strength, or  outward appearance but looked at his heart.  I God’s hands, and with God’s power and perfect aim, I can be a little stone used to bring down the giants of these times.

           

World Communion Sunday

On World Communion day I will be traveling.  First I will drive my car one hour north to Curicó, the city where the Pentecostal Church of Chile has its “cathedral” and central offices.  I will ask the Bishop, Ulises Muñoz, to bless me for my journey.  It is customary to ask the Bishop for his special blessing, with laying on of hands, for when one is traveling especially outside the country.  This custom has become an important part of my personal ritual as I prepare myself to be a vessel of blessing wherever it is that God is sending me. 

Then I will board a bus for the three hour trip from Curicó to the Santiago airport.  Next will be an all day plane odyssey to Bolivia.  It is amazing to me that I will have four planes and four layovers just to get to this neighboring country!  One stop in Antofagasta, another in Iquique (both Chilean cities), one more in La Paz (Bolivia’s capital), and the final to Santa Cruz, Bolivia which is near the border with Paraguay.

I am going to Bolivia to lead a retreat with the staff of the Mennonite Central Committee.  So this is my story of World Communion Sunday:  A member of the Christian Church, Disciples of Christ in Los Fresnos, Texas, representing Global Ministries of the United Church of Christ and Christian Church Disciples of Christ in ministry with the Pentecostal Church of Chile, facilitating a spiritual retreat with the Mennonites in Bolivia.  It is ecumenical sharing at its best!

Christ indeed extends an open invitation to the table! ¡Gloria a Dios!  (Glory be to God!)

Borning Cry

Some of you might enjoy this video I just made for a retreat I will be facilitating in Bolivia next week.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vpy_f-Zd46U&feature=youtu.be

Lemon Tree

I am a tree, a lemon tree.  Until a short time ago, I had a big problem.  I didn’t give lemons.  Many might think, “What is the use of a lemon tree if it doesn’t give lemons?” However, I know a girl who thought differently.  Her name is Hope and I live in the patio of her house.

Hope’s grandfather and brother planted me about seven years ago and my life hasn’t been that easy.  The year that they planted me, there was a great drought and I lost almost all of my leaves.  But Hope’s brother watered me every day until I was strong and kept growing.  My roots went deep and my branches multiplied, but I didn’t give a single fruit.

In the Winter of my fourth year, it was very cold.  A freeze nearly did me in, but Hope’s grandfather placed a sack over me to protect me.  I spent many days hidden under the sack until winter came to an end.  That spring, I stretched up taller than the other fruit trees in the patio.  My truck got wider.  Hope had fun swinging from my strong but flexible branches.  Still I did not give any lemons.

It was in my fifth year of life that something terrible happened.  There was a storm with strong winds and rain.  The earth around my roots loosened and then, and gust of wind that almost tore the roof off the house, unearthed me.  The morning after the storm, Hope, her brother and grandfather came to see me.  Half of my roots were exposed and my branches fell down nearly to the ground I was so bent over.  My truck was split in the place where the wind had ripped off the large branch that Hope used for swinging.

“This lemon tree has never given fruit,” said the grandfather. “I think it is time to cut it down and plant another one.  The other trees in the patio are giving fruit.  I don’t know what happened to this one.  And now, with the damage caused by the storm, I don’t think it will survive.”

“Oh grandfather,” responded Hope, “Let’s give it another chance!”

Hope’s brother agreed.  Together they worked hard straightening me up and tying me to a big pole to keep me upright.  They mulched my roots and pushed them back into the ground.  They watered me every day they painted the wound where the branch had been torn off.

   At first, I thought the grandfather had been right.  Nothing changed except that many of my leaves dropped to the ground.  Winter came again.  I was too big to be covered.  I slept until the sun began to warm the air again and spring arrived.

Hope gave a shout of joy when she found the first blossom.  Then I had more and more  and slowly the flowers fell and tiny bulbs appeared.  They were small lemons!  I had lemons all over me, and according to Hope, they are the juiciest lemons she has ever tasted.

From that year, I have never stopped giving lemons.  The grandfather says that maybe it is because the soil was churned in the storm and the added mulch.  Hope took several pictures of me to show at school.  She says that my ability to give fruit even after so many challenges is an example of resilience.  I think I began to give fruit and am stronger than ever thanks to a girl who believed in me and gave me a new opportunity, stood me up, and supported me.