Christmas with Family

 My parents with Aaron.

 Christmas lights.

 Jonathan and Isaac.

Huegel Christmas passtime.

Family time in Texas

 Aaron and Isaac after the Christmas Concert of the middle school orquestra.  Isaac was the first chair violín.

 Butterflies!

 Orchids!

Evan's 20th birthday!

Dignity

As I think about the life of Nelson Manderla and celebrate the legacy that he has left us, I share with you some thoughts on Dignity by Donna Hicks which are part of the Roots in the ruins trauma healing course.

 Ten Essential Elements of Dignity

 Acceptance of Identity: First thing you need to do when you want to honor peoples’ dignity is to accept that they are neither inferior nor superior to you. By virtue of being a human being, we all have the same inherent worth and value and the same human vulnerability. Everyone should feel free to express their authentic self without fear of being judged negatively. When you have an interaction with others, start with the orientation that no matter who they are, or what their race, religion, gender, class, or sexual orientation, it is your obligation to humanity to accept them as your spiritual equals and to do them no harm.

 Acknowledgment: People like to feel that they matter. Acknowledgment can be as simple as smiling at others when they walk by to formally recognizing them for something they have done for which they deserve credit. It is especially important to acknowledge the impact of your actions on others when you violate their dignity, instead of trying to save face by diminishing or ignoring the harm you have caused.

 Responsiveness: We all want to be seen and heard. Treating people as if they were invisible or ignoring them by not responding to their concerns is a violation of their dignity.

 Inclusion: No one likes to feel left out or that they don’t belong. When we are included, we feel good about who we are. When we are excluded from things that matter to us, we feel an instant reaction of self-doubt. What is it about me that I wasn’t included? This is an affront to our dignity at all levels of human interaction, from the political, when minority groups feel left out of the political process by the majority, to the interpersonal, when we’re not included in the decision-making that directly affects us.

Safety: There are two kinds of safety that are important to dignity: physical and psychological. Physical threats need no explanation but psychological threats are more complicated. Honoring others’ psychological safety means not shaming, humiliating, diminishing, or hurtfully criticizing them, especially, but not limited to, violations that are public.

Fairness: We all have a particularly strong knee-jerk reaction to being treated unfairly. If we want to honor the dignity of others, we need to ensure that we are honoring agreed upon laws and rules of fairness—both implicit and explicit—when we interact with them.

 Freedom: A major dignity violation occurs when we restrict people and try to control their lives. Honoring this element of dignity requires that people feel free from domination and that they are able to experience hope and a future that is filled with a sense of possibility.

Understanding: There is nothing more frustrating than to feel misunderstood, especially when you are in conflict with others. Extending dignity means that you give others the chance to explain themselves, actively listening to them for the sole purpose of understanding their perspective.

 Benefit of the Doubt: Treating people as though they were trustworthy—giving them the benefit of the doubt that they are acting with good intention—is honoring their dignity. This is, paradoxically, especially important when people are in conflict with one another where the cycle of mistrust is difficult to break. Treating others as though they were trustworthy, as difficult as it is, often interrupts the negative expectations, creating opportunities for a change in the relationship.

 Righting the Wrong: When we violate someone’s dignity, it is important to take responsibility and apologize for the hurt we have caused. It is a way for us to regain our own dignity as well as acknowledging the wrongdoing to the person you violated.

 Donna Hicks Weatherhead Center for Intern

"Mensajera"

In the Christian Church, Disciples of Christ of Los Retes the TUNAZCAS music group sang Andean music.  It reminded me of all those I love in Chile!

The children learned Josua 1:9 by heart!

¡Greetings from San Luis Potosí!

Dear Ones:  Hello from the city of San Luis Potosí in central Mexico.  Here is a picture of my new friend.  His name is Simri.  The man that is standing between us is a statue of the Cup Man - a character from the turn of the century who used to wander the streets telling people their fortunes.

I also made new friends in Nogales, Zacatecas, a tiny village where my father first started his ministry as a Pastor many years ago.  I had a good time with Enoc (in the cowboy hat) and his older brother Emanuel.  Thank you Karen for many wonderful experiences!

Please remember to pray tomorrow for the presidential elections in Chile!

What is in a name?

It happened twice after the same worship service, one right after the other.  If it had happened just once, I might have doubted it was a message from God, but twice?  God was reminding me the importance of learning and remembering someone’s name.

Manuel approached me right after the benediction, a well dressed lawyer who recently passed the bar exam in Chile, carrying his young daughter tenderly in his arms.  He wanted me to meet her.  Then he said, “I have been meaning to tell you something for a long time.  I remember the first time we met, seventeen years ago.  It was during an open air evangelism campaign.  I was a young teenager full of doubts about my faith and about continuing in church.  You asked me my name.  I told you ‘Manuel’, and you never forgot.  Every single time we met after that, you called me by my name even though there were dozens of other young people in the church.  If I was important enough to you for you to remember my name, I thought maybe I was important to God, too.  We haven’t seen each other very much over the years, but thanks for always remembering my name.  It has meant so much to me.” 

I am not particularly good at remembering names.  Some people will tell you they have had to introduce themselves to me three or four times before I remember who they are.   Even though I know it is very important it for each of us to be called by name and that I should strive to remember the names of the people I meet, I also know my mind is feeble.  I have to recognize that it usually the Holy Spirit that brings a name into my mind, but sometimes I am just too busy to pay attention. 

Another young man, poorly dressed and with the air of the mountain country side of Chile about him, stood off to one side patiently waiting as I finished talking to Manual.  When I turned to greet him, he took a step back and then asked me, do you remember who I am?   I started flipping through my mental card files and came up with a blank. “ I am from the little church called Palmera de Cordillería (Mountain Palms). “  No bells rang.  Then, after a pause, a quiet, earthshaking voice like the whisper to Elijah on the mountainside, spoke a memory into my mind.  “Wait!” I exclaimed.  “Don´t tell me!  I know you! You are DAVID!”   His face lit up like a thousand suns and his eyes filled with tears!    “¡Si!” he answered. “¡Soy yo!”  I took both his hands into mine and asked him how he was doing.  “There is so much to tell you,” he answered.  “But God is with me and I am doing well.”

Others began pressing into to greet me, just as happened back when David was a child.  I had visited Palmera de Cordillería with Bishop Ulises Muñoz of the Pentecostal Church of Chile fifteen or sixteen years ago when I was helping to set up the Sunday School program at the Curicó Church. (By the way, I have never had the opportunity to return there.)  The Bishop had told me that the Guide of this daughter church was opposed to any new ideas or programs. (There are 65 daughter churches belonging to the Curicó church under the leadership of different brothers or sisters appointed by the Bishop.  The Bishop is the pastor of these village churches.)  The Bishop preached and I shared the children`s sermon.  The children had stood in the greeting line along with the adults, and one boy, about ten years old, informed me when he shook my hand, “my name is David.”  “Just like David in the Bible,” I answered. “Do you remember who David was?” I asked, but before he could answer the adults pushed him on so others could greet me. David slipped back in the line, and when it was his turn again, he said, “Wasn´t David one of Jesus’ disciples?”  I smiled and said, “Wait here beside me a minute.  When I finish saying good-bye to everyone we will talk.”  I sat down next to David and told him the story of David and Goliath, about David and Jonathan, and how David had been King of Israel.  He listened open mouthed and eyes wide.  When there was no one left in the sanctuary but the Bishop and the Guide, I called them over and asked them to listen.  “David” I asked, “Have you ever been to Sunday School?”  “What is Sunday School?” he replied.  “Would you like for your church to have Sunday School,” I asked after explaining what it would be like and what he would learn.  “Oh yes!” he exclaimed.  The Bishop turned to the Guide and said, “We will be starting Sunday School in this church!”   

Since that brief introduction so long ago, I have only seen David one other time.  He was fifteen or sixteen, and that time he greeted me with “I know all about King David now!”  Ten more years passed.  Even if I could remember what he looked like as a child or a teen, he is a grown man now.  “I wanted so much to see you and say thank-you,” I kept holding his hands as he looked into my eyes.  “Thank you for remembering me. My heart bursting with joy!”  He hugged me, and with the next person waiting to greet me, I said to David, “please look for me again at the next church gathering when we are both in Curicó.  I want to hear your story.”  He smiled broadly and nodded, turned away and disappeared into the crowd.

What is in a name?  Recognition, relationship, hope, transformation.  With two very different young men, one right after the other, the Holy Spirit reminded me of just how much is in a name.

World record - largest harp orchestra in the world

Dear Friends:

Carolina has just sent me the latest project she has been working on - organizing the largest harp orquestra playing a famous Paraguayan tune.  Enjoy!!

Shalom
E

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Irt3WdIdSZw&feature=em-share_video_user

Trauma Healing Course in Puerto Rico

Dear Friends and Family:

I have had the privilege of spending the last two weeks visiting the beautiful island of Puerto Rico.  What a joy it has been to share with sisters and brothers from the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) in Puerto Rico.  Here are some picture for you to get a taste of the blessings.

Shalom
E

On the eve before I travel

Dear Friends and Family:

Tonight I am preparing the final details before leaving to the airport tomorrow.  Pastora Vivivna and I will be traveling first to Puerto Rico.  There Pastora Beverly will join us and we will be co-facilitating the Roots in the Ruins: Hope in Trauma level one course at the Morton Camp.  Then I will be traveling on by myself - throughout northern Mexico with a quick side trip to Nicaragua to visit Magyolene Rodríguez who is volunteering with Misión Cristiana through Global Ministries and the Pentecostal Church of Chile.

I request that you please pray for the Shalom Center during the coming months.  Things have been rather chaotic due to transitions, but I hope that the board will soon get itself upright again.  The staff and Pastora Viviana are hard at work preparing for the summer camps as well as a good many retreats this spring (October - December).  Please pray for protection, patience and joy as I travel and facilitate trauma healing, conflict transformation, and environmental education courses and workshops.

I will write whenever I can!

Shalom
E

On the path to Shalom

Have you felt wind in leaves moving trees?
River crashing down mountain to sea?
Woodpecker hammering hollow bass?
Hummingbird zooming, pricking pink fucsia flowers
over stumbling stream?
Mountain crumbling in earthquake
Leaves crunching underfoot?
Song of thanksgiving on teen lips,
Heart creaking open to the Sound Maker?
When you can hear all this
Then you are on the path to shalom.

Patricia Gómez

01/10/2013
Translated and adapted by Elena Huegel

Preparing summer camps

"Hope" is the thing with feathers

Today as Chile remembered the 1973 coup that brought into power the dictatorship of General Pinochet,  and as the United States remembered its own September 11, I thought of Emily Dickenson's poem about hope.

.
"Hope" is the thing with feathers—
That perches in the soul—
And sings the tune without the words—
And never stops—at all—

And sweetest—in the Gale—is heard—
And sore must be the storm—
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm—

I've heard it in the chillest land—
And on the strangest Sea—
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb—of Me. 

Emily Dickinson

From Chile to Nicaragua

From Chile to Nicaragua

   I lay my hand on Magyolene’s shoulder as she kneels.  I am standing beside the Bishop of the Pentecostal Church of Chile before a congregation of some 1500 brothers and sisters of the Pentecostal Church of Chile in Curicó.  Mayolene’s hair, long, thick, and straight with an unusual natural red tint, falls down hiding her face, a moment of privacy in this public confession of faith and dedication,  and as the prayers flow over and around her, I remember.

   I remember Magyolene as young college student working diligently on her thesis project; we searched together for the almost extinct Quele trees that in Darwin´s descriptions were as as large and majestic as the Redwoods when he explored the coasts of Chile.  What a thrill when we found a few seedlings sprouting in a circle around the decayed trunk of an ancient tree cut many years before.

   I remember Magyolene as the assistant to the youth leader of the Curicó Church when the Bishop made the surprising and much commented decision to join the boys youth group with the girls youth group.  A young man was given the task of managing this much awaited change; Magyolene was selected to temper and balance the energy and impulsive nature of the leader.    

   I remember Magyolene down on the forest floor with a group of fifth graders during one of the environmental education camps at the Shalom Center introducing them to the ferocious looking beetle with the impressive name of “mother of the snake” (Madre de la Culebra in Spanish).  They watched together, marveling and asking questions, until the students had figured out that it was harmlessly going about the business of laying eggs in different holes around the base of a tree.

   I remember Magyolene accompanying the people of Colbún with trauma healing and resilience development workshops and activities after the February 2012 earthquake in Chile, the tranquility of her spirit bringing peace and hope to the students and teachers in various schools as well as the intergenerational community of the church. 

   Tonight, during the worship service in Curicó,  Magyolene has been blessed by her home church to serve as a volunteer through Global Ministries with the Mission Cristiana in Nicaragua.  It is the first time that the Pentecostal Church of Chile enters into this kind of mission partnership, sharing its gifts and blessings with others in another country far away.  For me, it is also a first; Magyolene is the first of the members of the Shalom Center staff to take all that she has learned in environmental education, trauma healing and peace education, conflict transformation, and spiritual development and offer it, along with her deep-rooted faith and professional expertise as an agronomy engineer, to the Lord`s service overseas.  The seeds of my ministry in Chile travel with Magyolene to take root in other soil, to grow in unique ways, and to join with sister trees as far away as Nicaragua in the growing of God’s Kingdom of Shalom.

    

Healing of the Individual

This past weekend, the staff of the Shalom Center participated in a trauma healing and resilience workshop with the Rev. Beverly Prestwood-Taylor.

Unity

I therefore, the prisoner in the Lord, beg you to lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called, ² with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, ³ making every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. ⁴ There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to the one hope of your calling, ⁵ one Lord, one faith, one baptism, ⁶ one God and Father of all, who is above all and through all and in all.  Ephesians 4:1-6

Dear Ones,

                This past Sunday I went to Sunday School at the Cathedral of the Pentecostal Church of Chile in Curicó (a medium-sized city of 150,00 about two hours south of the capital, Santiago).   The night before I had been in the Pastor’s Bible Study where Pastor/Bishop Ulises (pastor of the Curicó church, bishop of the Pentecostal Church of Chile) covers the next day’s lesson for the people who will teach the class the following morning in the 6 or so Sunday school classes (that all simultaneously meet in various parts of the cavernous sanctuary) and the 70 or so “locales,” mission churches of the big church.  The Sunday school curriculum for this period has to do with the responsibilities of discipleship and church membership.  This week, the primary passage was the one I have quoted above and the theme was, “my responsibility in guarding the Unity of the Church.” 

                Since this is a subject with which I myself am dealing, not always with as much fruit as I would like, I thought I would attend Sunday School when no one expected me to, in light of my having heard pastor Ulíses the night before.  He also attends Sunday School as a simple hearer to one of the men who teaches a men’s class for 40 and 50 somethings.  Pastor Ulíses and I said very little (until the end when the teacher gave us each an opportunity to summarize), but one of the men in the class focused all the discussion of the previous two days (and much of the thoughts in my mind) with this simple question:  “Is being in communion the same thing as church unity?”

                I quickly made an analysis in my mind of this passage.  It doesn’t speak of guarding the unity of the church but of the Spirit.  What does that mean?  In my own journal that afternoon, I wrote this:  “Does that mean the unity of the Holy Spirit?  So how does that make sense?  Is not the Spirit one and indivisible?  Obviously, we do not lessen the unity within the Spirit, but we can very much lessen our unity with the Spirit.”  It seems to me that when Paul speaks of guarding the “unity of the Spirit” he is not speaking about guarding the institutional, organizational, organic, or systemic unity of the Church.  Instead, he is talking about what in ecumenical circles has been termed full communion.

                When I come to the Pentecostal Church of Chile, I enjoy full communion by virtue of my relationship with Global Ministries of the  Christian Church (Disciples) and the United Church of Christ.  What this means is that I am received as an honored guest with full privileges of participating in the life of the church, with pulpit privileges (no small thing in this context), and with the assumption that I have something meaningful to contribute.  This church administers the Lord’s Supper only once a year (August 15), and at the communion service I will not only be invited to partake but will be invited to assist the pastor in administering the sacrament. 

                We often and easily talk about brothers and sisters in the faith.  The truth is that for most Christians from most churches, we do not treat each other as brothers and sisters but rather as distant cousins—part of the same extended family but not eating at the same table.  For Pastor Ulíses and for many here, Disciples and UCC’s truly are brothers and sisters in the faith (maybe to a greater degree than Disciples and UCC’s consider each other in the States in many contexts).   There are plaques and pictures in many sanctuaries commemorating the relationship with some or other conference, region, or congregation in the US.  I have heard people in the intercessory prayer time mention and pray for brothers and sisters in the States.  People here treasure the visits from delegations from the States, and those who have been to the U.S. speak lovingly and often of the relationships they made there.  These relationships matter much more than the financial accompaniment that has been provided, because this is not a church that waits for money to come from Overseas before they undertake what needs to be done.  If money does come for something or another, it simply means that the project gets done sooner—but the project usually gets done.

                I think one reason that the Pentecostal Church of Chile treasures its relationships through Global Ministries, not only in the States but around the world, is because the church is somewhat isolated in Chile.  Roman Catholics and mainline protestants keep some distance from what they see as less-educated, lower-class, and evangelistically aggressive Pentecostals.  Because the Pentecostal Church of Chile supports the ministry of women (though a great majority of pastors and leaders are men), because the church participates in the World Council of Churches, and because they sustain a relationship with Global Ministries,  they are roundly criticized by other Pentecostals for being “liberal.”  Obiously “liberal” and “conservative” have a lot to do with context and the eye of the beholder.  In doctrine, standards of morality, and even gender roles this church is far from liberal by any measure in the US.  Every time the Bishop talks about the relationship with the brothers and sisters in the States, he points out that the relationship is built on mutual respect despite huge differences—like being nearly polar opposites in nearly every measurable category: social scale, educational level, liturgical tastes, theological emphasis, and even geographic location (north pole neighbors vs. south pole neighbors).

                It is sad to think that this special and unique communion is as fragile and threatened as our natural environment.  In a globalized world with instant communication, decisions that one church makes potentially affects all of its partners.  A decision that makes perfect sense and seems completely necessary in one context can be utterly incomprehensible in another.  And of course, when such decisions are made, it is the less-educated, less-influential, less wealthy partner that tends to be most at risk.  

                But I was also encouraged this week by a sign that communion tends to be more resilient than would initially be apparent.  In the 1940’s the Pentecostal Church of Chile was born from a split in the larger and more influential Methodist Pentecostal Church (which itself was born of a split in the Methodists).  This Methodist Pentecostal Church supported and benefitted from the dictatorship of Augusto Pinochet.  As you can imagine, there are ample reasons for a wide breach in communion between these two Pentecostal Churches. 

                As I left a worship service at a “local” in an outlying community, Abraham, pastor Ulises’ eldest son chuckled as we passed a couple of older teenagers.  “They will wait until they get 500 meters from the church before they start holding hands,” he told me.  I said, “Romance is good for a church’s youth group.”  “Yes, but it is difficult to carry on a romance within the fishbowl of our church,” he replied.  I then realized that both he and his brother had married Methodist Pentecostals.  “I now realize why it was that the Lord allowed for the Pentecostal Church of Chile,” I said.  “Why?” He asked.  “So that Methodist Pentecostals would have someone outside their own church whom they could date and marry,” I said.  He laughed but didn’t deny it.   He knows good and well that his parents and both sets of parents of the daughters-in-law were very happy to have their children matched with fine young people from the competing church. 

                And similarly, Disciples and UCC’s happily marry Southern Baptists, Charismatics, and Roman Catholics in the USA. 

                Simple people have a way of subverting the divisive decisions of their own assemblies and hierarchies.  They have a way of finding communion where there isn’t supposed to be any.  That seems to be a very hopeful note.  Despite our worst efforts to the contrary, God will continue to draw us into One Spirit, One Faith, One Lord Jesus, One Hope of our Calling.    Blessed be the Lord!

                 

Hebrews 12:5-11 (NRSV)

My child, do not regard lightly the discipline of the Lord,
or lose heart when you are punished by him;
⁶ for the Lord disciplines those whom he loves,
and chastises every child whom he accepts.”

⁷ Endure trials for the sake of discipline. God is treating you as children; for what child is there whom a parent does not discipline? ⁸If you do not have that discipline in which all children share, then you are illegitimate and not his children. ⁹ Moreover, we had human parents to discipline us, and we respected them. Should we not be even more willing to be subject to the Father of spirits and live?¹⁰ For they disciplined us for a short time as seemed best to them, but he disciplines us for our good, in order that we may share his holiness. ¹¹ Now, discipline always seems painful rather than pleasant at the time, but later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it.

Dear Ones,

                OK, so I had an experience of the Lord’s correction.  And I enjoyed it!

                My sister Elena lives in the city of Talca, which is the nearest major city to the Shalom Center she works for.  Most of my work as a volunteer missionary for Global Ministries is on the weekends in Curicó, a city about 40 miles north of Talca.  Curicó is where the cathedral church of the Pentecostal Church of Chile is located, along with the denominational offices.

                It is very easy to get to Curicó on public transportation.  Less than five minutes after walking out of Elena’s front door a “colectivo” comes by (a kind of taxi that runs a regular route like a bus—total passengers, 4).  The colectivo drops me two blocks from the bus station where there is a direct bus leaving for Curicó every 15 minutes (at 1700 pesos, 3 ½ dollars, it is a steal).  On this occasion I got a newer bus.  This is bad news because the newer buses have TV.  This is bad news because whether in Chile or Mexico, they always show R-rated action movies of the most violent and profane kind.  For most of the trip I didn’t realize that that was the kind of movie they were showing, because I have my own personal DVD player with headphones and have been taking advantage of the trip to watch the entire collection of Star Trek: the Next Generation DVD’s that I ostensibly got my kids for Christmas.  My program ran out before the bus arrived, however, and that was when I realized what was going on on the screen.  If my wife, who is a courageous and godly woman, had been there, the bus driver and steward would have heard from her long before we arrived in Curicó.  Weenie that I am, I could still hear the Lord speaking in her voice as I got off the bus, “you need to tell them that they should only show family movies.”   Every Christian who complains about an injustice like that is one small agent helping to bring the Kingdom of God (I even translated a sermon to that effect at the General Assembly).  But my sense of embarrassment and my apathy won out.   In silence I got off the bus and left.  Chalk up one blown opportunity to serve the Kingdom. 

                Not three minutes later, I had a new opportunity.  I had lost a pair of gloves, and the one I was wearing needed to be washed (it takes things a good 48 hours to dry here).   I wanted to replace the lost pair and quickly found an opportunity to do so at the stand of a street vendor on the sidewalk of Henriquez street, the main thoroughfare in downtown Curicó.  Just as I was paying for the pair I picked out, a little girl and her mother came up to the street vendor—they were evidently not people of means.  The little girl was excited about getting a decorated hair accessory that cost 100 chilean pesos (about .20 cents US).  I told the street vendor not to make me change but to purchase what the girl wanted from my change.  This was evidently not a culturally normal thing for me to do (tall, white, and foreign as I am), and it took a moment for the vendor to understand me.  His face broke in to a grin of delight as he explained to the mother, whose face broke into a grin also.  The little girl was completely unawares.  The whole experience was over in 30 seconds or less. 

                Cut now to the worship service at a suburban (suburban here means “poor” rather than “middle class”) local church that same evening.  I am preaching on the theme “acquired tastes”.  I am arguing that the Apostle Paul had had to give up his naturally, ethnically transmitted tastes in religion and had acquired new tastes as follows:  I want to know Christ^,  and the power of his resurrection and the sharing of his sufferings by becoming like him in his death.  I have split the passage into three points, in good Princeton seminary fashion.  I have explained the desire to know Christ, wanting to experience Him ever more deeply in each relationship, in each activity, in each stage of life.  On my second point I am saying that wanting to know the power of His resurrection is delighting in each little victory of the Kingdom of God, kind of a thrill of team sports sublimated, where one is constantly looking for an opportunity to “touch the ball”, to shoot or pass to score a goal.  I then go on to give a great example, the second of my two experiences, of course.  And God leads me to set a trap for myself in which I proceed to fall with eyes wide open. 

               

                A few minutes before, they had taken up the offering.  I fingered a $1000.00 peso bill (2 US dollars).  Now, they have a curious custom here.  The choir sings a special for the offering, and after it is collected and before they finish, the offering is brought to the front of the church where it is dumped (that sounds wrong—read “placed”) on the secretary’s table, which is to one side of the altar area.  She proceeds to count the offering while the congregation begins singing a song—so that the choir has an opportunity to give their offering.  The offering bag gets passed to the clergy during the choir’s offering.  Well, when the offering is “placed” on the table, I see that it is all coins, not bills.  So I proceed to put a $100 coin instead of the bill.

                Back to my sermon.  As I describe my little act of kindness, I said “and it was such a little thing, just a coin (thinking of the widow with the two mites, I guess), like the coin we place in the offering.”  You know, as a preacher a Pentecostal congregation that gives you “amen”s and “preach it”s is usually a good thing.  They encourage you and you preach better than you would have otherwise.  On the other hand . . .       A voice from somewhere said audibly (maybe it was God’s voice again, though it sounded male this time), “Oops, now he told us how little he put in to the offering.”  Everyone laughed out loud, and despite the cold, I got red from the top of my head to the bottom of my feet.  And I loved it!  What a gentle, tender, and beautiful way God had to put me in my place, surrounded by the laughter of those who love me (and most of whom didn’t put any more than 100 pesos either).  Maybe all of us had our spiritual pride taken down a notch.    

                You know, there was after all that third point, “and the sharing of his sufferings.”  I had always thought of these as great persecutions, illnesses or trials.  But apparently sometimes all it means is learning to laugh at yourself when you haven’t been all the Christian you were supposed to be.

                Enjoy the discipline!

David J. Huegel

Interesting turn of political events

Maybe those of you have been following the political news from Chile heard about the right wing presidential candidate, Pablo Longueira, stepping down from the race due to being diagnosed with depression.  Chile had been working a long to to agree on policies for primary elections, and had finally put them together for the first time with a surprisingly good turnout.  The two right wing parties agreed to support each other no matter which of their candidates came out first, and Longueira, from the far right, won.  On the left, Michelle Bachelet not only had the highest number of votes by far, but also the highest turn out of voters.

With the election coming in November, the right ended up with no candidate at all as their coalition fell apart with Longueira's resignation.  The right has more or less agreed on a new candidate.   The new candidate, running against Michelle Bachelet, is also a woman, Evelyn Matthei.

So Chile may just have two women as the main contenders for the presidency, interesting for a country that is still very conservative in many ways.  But the comparisons go even further. Both women are the daughters of Air Force Generals - they knew each other as children.  Bachelet's father was a military attache in Washington DC at the Chilean embassy so she speaks excellent English, while Matthei`s father served in the Chilean embassy in London where she also learned English. Bachelet´s father was on the "wrong" side of the coup and died in the air force  institution where Matthei's father was the director.  Bachelet`s family contends that the former General Alberto Bachelet was murdered.  General Matthei always insisted he knew nothing about the internal operations of that institution and that he was only a figurehead .  General Matthei was the Minister of health for the military junta under Pinochet, and Michelle Bachelet, a pediatrician and epidemiologist with studies in military strategy served as Health Minister and Defense Minister under President Ricardo Lagos after democracy was restored in Chile.  

Bachelet is a separated mother of three who raised her children alone while  Evelyn Matthei is a still married mother of three. 

General Matthei was the first Junta member to publicly admit that the military regime had lost the October 1988 referendum to elect General Pinochet for a new eight year term.  Michelle Bachelet and her mother were held in a concentration camp and finally had to flee the country living first in Australia and then Germany before finally returning home after Pinochet was defeated. 

It promises to be an interesting election with the dynamics of two women who seem to have lived parallel lives with so many points of comparison and yet with personal stories shaped by their father's decisions and loyalties.  Mirror lives,  one on the left and the other on the right, that have lead to vastly different political positions and personal convictions, and public interpretations of the modern history of Chile.

Abide in me...

Abide in me, and I in you.  As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, except it abide in the vine; no more can ye, except ye abide in me. 

Dear Ones,

                I heard a great sermon by Margaret Suchocki at the General Assembly of the Disciples in Orlando.  It is the kind of sermon that forever enriches your appreciation of God.  One of the things that she said in the sermon is that while God is always, everywhere, and to an infinite degree present feelingly to all, we are usually only dimly, if at all, aware of that presence.  In a way, this “darkened glass” to God’s presence is a blessing, because the presence could be so overwhelming that we would never get anything done.  Still, a large part of our spiritual pilgrimage is to wipe the darkened glass such that we can experience more of the presence.

                This is what I think the spiritual disciplines are about.  I had occasion to practice a (for me) completely new spiritual discipline this past week.  Unfortunately (for you, not for me), I forgot to take along my camera, so you have no material evidence of my introduction to street preaching.  The “predica” is an integral part of the Chilean Pentecostal experience.  The idea is that on the way to church, small groups of Pentecostals, guitars and mandolins in hand of the musicians, Bibles and hymnbooks in the hands of singers, gather on important street corners.  After the people sing out a couple of hymns, the designated street preacher holds forth on a brief exposition of the Gospel to the (mostly oblivious) passers-by.  

                I was sitting at the table in the Bishop’s house when Jenny, one of the household, came in and greeted us on her way out to the “predica”.  I was looking for a gracious way of escaping the enourmous mug of tea sitting in front of me (I had to preach in the big church in an hour and didn’t want all that liquid sitting in my bladder), and so I asked if I could tag along.  We joined the band of Pentecostals by the railroad tracks—during the hymn the cheerful horn of the train joined our lone sax to drown out the mandolins and guitars.  Hernán, the assistant guide (sort of an associate pastor) of the “local” (mission church of the Curicó big church) told me, “Let me show you how it’s done” and loudly held forth to the blank facades of a row of houses.  A couple of neighbors did peek out during his “sermon” and studiously ignored us, even as Hernán preached as though a whole crowd were listening intently.  He drew to a close and the woman who led our band came up to me and said, “your turn”.    So I quickly held forth on Deuteronomy 6:5, the first Scripture verse that came into my mind.  Afterwards Hernán proudly told me that he will forever remind me that he was the one who taught me to preach on the street.

                Why do it?  Well, for one it feels surprisingly good.  Here it is done so much and so often by so many different denominations, that it is an acceptable part of the landscape—much like Christian Christmas music at restaurants and grocery stores.  No one pays any particular attention, but no one is offended either—a painless way to fulfill one’s duty to “recognize Jesus before men (and women, and stray dogs, too)”.  But there is another reason, too.  There is the hope that someone may indeed listen and come a little closer to God.  This church has a profound conviction that a relationship with the Lord Jesus makes a positive difference in a person’s life.  This conviction  is not consciously rooted in  evangelical orthodoxy, but in a very commonsense, practical reasoning:  people have many difficulties in life, God in Jesus is potentially present in power to all, it is our job to make people aware that they can open the door to God in Jesus such that they will sense God with them in every situation.  In the US, we Christians believe that people essentially find religion offensive, so it is very difficult for us to share faith openly.  We have a kind of ingrained sense that most people don’t need or want Jesus.   It felt very good to put off that sense and to feel what my Pentecostal sisters and brothers feel, that it is a good thing to offer someone else a relationship with Jesus.

                Such preaching demands a parade.  Once my little message was through, punctuated by the final Amens of my Pentecostal rooting section on the otherwise empty street, the guitars and mandolins started up again and we slowly yet cheerfully processed through the cold streets on our way to the main church.  We caught glimpses of other groups like ours wending their way toward us on the side streets of Curico from multiple street preaching points where Pentecostals have proclaimed the gospel for generations to whomever would and wouldn’t hear.  Like airplanes circling and waiting for the air traffic controller to give them the signal to land, the different groups came to the entrance of the sanctuary and waited for the head deacon to have each group process down the aisle to the altar where we finished our song with hands held high and a triple “Gloria a Dios” before we each found our places in the pews.  And God was present.  And God enjoyed every bit of it.

                                In Christ,

               

David J. Huegel

Pictures from the weekend

 Bundled up for winter!! Isaac, Elena and Aaron.

 Playing in the snow at the pass between Chile and Argentina.

Sliding!!

Letter 2 from David in Chile

Thus saith the LORD, “Stand ye in the ways and see, and ask for the old paths, where is the good way, and walk therein, and ye shall find rest for your souls.”  But they said, “We will not walk therein.”  (Jeremiah 6:16, KJV, the only English version I have with me in Chile)

Dear Ones,

                I have been thinking about heritage ever since I knew that I would be coming to Chile in as a volunteer missionary for Gobal Ministries.  It was such a thrill to see my picture alongside my sister Elena’s picture as a GM missionary. 

                During my adult life I have often told people that I was the black sheep of our family because I am the only sibling who lives and serves in the United States, since my two other brothers serve with other missionary agencies in different parts of the world.  But our connection to Global Ministries and its predecessors goes way back.   In fact, if Elena continues as a staff missionary (something that Global Ministries seems to desire as much as she does) in 2020 the Huegel family will have completed 100 years of continuous service in the mission agencies of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ).  My grandparents arrived in Mexico in 1920 and served 50 years.  My dad (who married my mom in 1961) arrived in Mexico in 1954 and left in 1996.  My sister arrived in Paraguay in 1994 (we think) and was called to chile in 1996 or thereabouts.  

                As I sat in the very cold sanctuary of the Pentecostal Church of Chile in the city of Talca last night, the matter of heritage was brought home to me.   We sang “The Old Rugged Cross” accompanied by guitars, mandolins, and a single drum, and clapping only in the pauses between stanzas.  In those pauses we sometimes gave a triple “glory to God” in the Chilean Pentecostal fashion.  You think of charismatic and Pentecostal churches as being very spontaneous, freewheeling, and changeable—but the Pentecostal Church of Chile has well-defined liturgical and ministerial traditions.  They always say “Glory to God” three times, their choirs are always divided by gender—only the women play mandolins, and only the men play the guitars.  The mandolins require the greater skill, you see. 

                Back in the 1980’s when I lived in Mexico City, the government’s agency called the National Indigenist Institute was forever attacking the Wycliffe Bible Translators in the Press.  Their main complaint was that Wycliffe, by sending missionaries, modern technology, and a message foreign to the natives’ culture, was destroying fragile cultural environments that could never be replaced.  The government agency performed a valuable service to the missionaries, because it made them aware of the need to listen carefully and respect the local culture.  They came to realize that God in Jesus was already present in these cultures, and that their job was to enable the people to recognize that presence more fully and to give them the tools to appropriate the Gospel for themselves.

                But it seems to me that that controversy from the 1980’s has particular resonance for the Christian community for today.  Christianity is becoming globalized and in the process, the local flavors of Christianity are threatened to be lost.  I expect to see many signs of that globalization on this trip—the acoustic mandolins and guitars will be overshadowed by brass, by percussion, and by electronics.  I guess the change is necessary, but it is a little sad.

                One thing that I hope to not see change about the Pentecostal Church of Chile is the commitment to creatively serve the community.  Pastor Carlos, the senior minister of the church in Talca, told me how the church pulled together after the earthquake in 2010 to build cabins for people who had been left homeless.   They didn’t wait for money to come to the States (although Week of Compassion and the United Church of Christ Massachusetts Conference did fairly quickly come alongside the project).  Instead, the national denomination decided to forgo its entire budget for that year and pledged the full amount (a lot less than you would expect for a denomination this size) for 13’ x 26’ cabins, which volunteers from the churches mass-produced on an assembly line in a church’s roofed patio. 

                Sometimes walking in the old paths, when the old paths involve the expression of selfless love, represents a good way to approach the future.  Pastor Carlos spoke to me of a “local”  (many of the churches of the Pentecostal Church of Chile have “small” group ministries that have their own building, and these are called “locals”) of his church that for 20 years has dreamt of serving meals to the poor in their neighborhood.  Finally this year they have had the resources to add a dining hall to their building and have begun to serve meals on weekends to kids who are fed in school during the week but who go hungry on Saturday and Sunday.  Now, that’s an “old path” after God’s heart.

                God, grant us to hang on to that which is good in our heritage!

                                                                                In Christ,

                . 

Family visit

Hello to all my blog readers.  Since I will have my oldest brother, David, here for a visit along with his two sons Isaac and Aaron, and he will be writing regular letters and stories, for the next few weeks I will include his reflections in my blog.  I hope you enjoy!

Shalom

E

They got up and returned at once to Jerusalem.  There they found the Eleven and those with them, assembled together and saying, “It is true! The Lord has arisen and has appeared to Simon.”  Luke 24:33-34

Dear Ones,

                Today was the first day of our mission trip to Chile.  It began at 9 AM in Houston, Texas, and ended at 10 PM in--- Houston, Texas.  When the Lord sends you out of your home, you sometimes return there before going elsewhere. 

                During the next few weeks you will receive an indeterminate number of devotional journal entries recording the events of spiritual significance in a missionary trip/pilgrimage/visit to my sister Elena in Chile.  I am going out under the blessing and sponsorship of Global Ministries of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) and the United church of Christ.  My sons Isaac (13) and Aaron (8) are going out under the sponsorship of their Aunt Elena (Global Ministries staff missionary in Chile) and their grandparents who want to help them rescue their Spanish. 

                Our adventures actually began several weeks ago with a trip to the town of Silsbee, Texas (two US, highways, three farm to market roads, a State highway, a roadside honkey-tonk, and a county landfill away from Houston) to get passports.  But that is a story for another time and context (though it did involve a very nice Roman Catholic parish, deserving in its own way of a pilgrimage).

                This adventure began with our 19 year old son Evan, his rather small Nissan, and as much luggage as we figured United Airlines would let us take.  It made for a less-than-completely comfortable trip to Dallas-Fort Worth airport, especially for Aaron and Isaac in the back seat.  Nonetheless, with only one stop at Subway in Waco for lunch and another for gas in Arlington, early afternoon found myself and the two younger boys at the United Ticket counter at D-FW, waiting for our boarding passes to - - - Houston, of course! 

                The way this works is that out of Houston the plane tickets on United cost $300.00 (and from Dallas on American) more than they do out of Dallas.  So to save nearly one thousand big ones, we drive to Dallas and catch the plane back to Houston.  The interesting little additional catch is that there is a 13 hour layover before the plane to Panama City leaves tomorrow morning.  Consequently, Mama (my wife, the kids’ mother—Cecilia Huegel, RN to y’all) was waiting for us at the Houston airport to drive us home so we can sleep in our own beds (for a few hours at least).  

                Now, I ask you is that not a fit parable for the way that you should begin every mission trip?  After all the preparations, organization, and running around;  before you go out, go home;  fall into your Heavenly Parent’s arms, and get a good night’s rest in the bed that Parent has made up just for you.   I mean after all, the whole point of sharing Jesus’ love with people is that He has come to make it possible for us to be at home with God—and to prepare an eternal home for us together with God—both here and the hereafter.  God is both our starting point and our destination—a little like Houston for us today. 

                Still, we are looking forward to leaving Houston (and the beastly heat) tomorrowto go south, way south.   Goodbye summer, hello winter! 

                                                                Reverently (not Reverendly) Yours,

David J. Huegel