We had a wonderful "once" (afternoon tea/supper) with Pastor Félix Ortiz along with Richard and Julia and their two girls, Maria Isabel and Alondra.

Bridge builder

            It wasn’t a deep gully or a dangerous one, but it was just the right size to challenge three elementary age siblings.  They agreed to pool their abilities and build a model suspension bridge stretching from the edge of the pine forest to the sandy soil across the ravine using only the three tools they had with them: a pocket knife, a ball of string, and a bucket.  Daniel, age twelve, was fascinated by how things worked and spent his free time constructing models from complicated diagrams and taking apart, fixing, and putting back together everything from toasters to lawn mowers.  Joel, age eight, could “see things” in his head, often visualizing in three dimensions before sketching or modeling with clay the inventions his mind created.  I was a typical middle child who, at the age of ten, already made relational connections between people and could translate the ideas and feelings behind the project so that my brothers could understand each other and work together.  It took two days and many hours of work, but finally a beautiful model bridge, perfectly balanced and held together by the string stays, tiny whittled railings, and mud packed pavement, crossed the gully joining the two sides and allowing a constant flow of play cars and imaginary people.  Little did I know then that bridge building would become my life’s calling!
               Sometimes in my position as an intermediary, I feel trapped and stretched between the two parties while filtering all of the communications and carrying the weight of the relationship.  I jump into action. Far too often, as I push, pull and risk getting stepped on, I am converted into an easy convenience that excuses the parties from doing their relational work.  I compared the difference between being a bridge builder and attempting to be the bridge itself when I learned about  triangulation.  Bridge builders accompany the construction process.  Once the creation is complete, the parties, not the builder, are responsible for maintaining the bridge and for continuing to grow in their knowledge and understanding of each side.  The bridge, on the other hand, must forever carry the weight of the relationship.  I recognize that I often confuse my role as a bridge builder with being the bridge itself.       
I sat around the table at with a group of life long bridge builders.  They were people whom I had just met but felt like I had known for a long time.  Like myself, these people were all Third Culture Kids.  According to Pollock and Van Reken in Third Culture Kids: The Experience of Growing up Among Worlds, “a Third Culture Kid (TCK) is a person who has spent a significant part of his or her developmental years outside the parents’ culture.  The TCK builds relationships to all of the cultures, while not having full ownership in any.  Although elements from each culture are assimilated into the TCK’s life experience, the sense of belonging is in relationship to others of similar background” (19). Tears and laughter mixed together as we talked about our challenges, privileges, and pain along with the special skills and perspectives that TCKs can bring as global intermediaries into peace building.  I began to read about Third Culture Kids after this gathering and recognized that many of the perspectives, skills, prejudices, and biases that affect my bridge building come from my personal history as a TCK.
The worst question someone can ask me is “where are you from?” The question always highlights the uncomfortable reality of my confused identity. The effective mediator must be able to stand at ease in his or her own shoes.  John Paul Lederach recognizes importance of self-awareness and emphasizes the need to be aware of the “cultural assumptions” one brings into a conflict (101).  However, I find it difficult to unravel to the knots created by the multiple cultures that form my tangled identity.  “In the formation of a sense of personhood and identity, the TCK experience has [. . .] [a] paradoxical potential [. . .] to be either a source of rich blessing o a place of real struggle.” (Pollock and Van Reken 147)   It was while I was reading an article by Michelle LeBaron that suddenly I realized that my stormy identity crisis could also harbor precisely those experiences I most need to tap into as I become a multicultural mediator.  In building bridges between Chileans, Americans, Mexicans, and Paraguayans, traditional and liberal churches, city and country folks, young people and adults, I have the possibility of seeing my “. . .role not as a prescriber but as a guide, not as a keeper of a catalogue of givens, but as a repository of possibilities [. . .]” (LeBaron 13).  As I continue to struggle with my identity, I can develop a unique style of leadership.  “Process leadership [. . .] comes in the form of structuring dialogue in collaboration with the parties, but more fundamentally in creating and holding the space where something new can be brought into being” (LeBaron 13).  My greatest bane can also become my most precious gift.
“The job of culturally appropriate process design is to develop a process that invites multiple dimensions of meaning into the forum, while addressing significant power imbalances and traumatic histories that contributed to a focus on particular aspect of cultural identity” (LeBaron 5).  A bridge builder carefully watches over the process of building the bridge.  If the bridge is to withstand floods and constant use, its initial design must be thought out with all of the possible difficulties in mind.  If new information is uncovered during the construction, then the design must be adapted to incorporate the new challenges.   In my work as a cross cultural mediator, I feel that I need to explore the significance of process – structure in designing meetings, delegations, worship services, and other activities.  Programs must be designed with a careful structure so as to communicate across languages and cultures and to address historic and current issues.  However, they must also be flexible enough to integrate the insights gained from storytelling and relationships. 
When Daniel, Joel, and I finished our bridge, we celebrated with a ritual.  Not having the customary ribbon or scissors, we tied the last bit of string across one entrance and managed to cut it, a midst a great deal of shouting and clapping, with the dulled blade of the pocket knife.  The ceremony sealed the success of our efforts and marked the beginning of “real play” where we drove the toy cars and trucks honking and beeping from one side to the other.

LeBaron, Michelle. “Mediation and Multicultural Reality.” N.p., n.d. (Class Reader)
Lederach, John Paul. “The Mediator´s Cultural Assumptions.” Mediation and Facilitation
Training Manual. Ed. Carolyn Schrock-Shenk. Akron: Mennonite Conciliation
Service, 2000. 101-105.
Okun, Barbara F., Jane Fried, and Marcia L. Okun. Understanding Diversity: A Learning-
as-Practice Primer. Pacific Grove: Brooks/Cole, 1999.
Palmer, Parker J. The Active Life: A Spirituality of Work, Creativity, and Caring.
N.p., n.d. (Class Reader)
Pollock, David C., and Ruth E. Van Reken. Third Culture Kids: The Experience of
Growing up Among Worlds. London, UK: Nicholas Brealey, 2001
Shirch, Lisa. “Ritual: The New (Old) Tool in the Conflict Transformer´s Toolbox.”
Mediation and Facilitation Training Manual. Ed. Carolyn Schrock-Shenk.  Akron:
Mennonite Conciliation Service, 2000. 125-127.

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Commitment to Shalom

High on the side of the Andes mountains, in a forest of millinery  “araucaria” trees, an ancient  individual stretches its umbrella like branches over the ground where a seed, after maturing through the summer, has dropped to earth.  Somehow this seed, protected by a  tough fibrous covering, has managed to escape the gathering hands of the Mapuche people who would depend on it for food and the gnawing teeth of the rodents and other herbivores.  The fall season brings the first rains, gently soaking the ground and providing a perfect climate for the seed to grow.  Many months will pass, however, before the araucaria seed will send its first shoot up to greet the cold mountain air and bright sunshine.  Meanwhile, the seed has all the appearance of being dead, a fallen thing, forest refuse, waiting to biodegrade and become part of the soil.    With a gentle surprise, the seedling eventually pokes up through the carpet of leaves and twigs and ever so slowly begins the arduous task of growing.  Through the icy winter snows, spring melts,  summer heat, and fall floods, the tiny tree pushes its tender limbs upward and its hairy roots downward steadily developing  season after season, year after year, decade after decade.   It will take many years for the tree to produce its first fruits.  But one day in March,  the southern hemisphere’s late summer, the araucaria will produce its first cones, each containing over two hundred seeds, and so the age-old ritual of birth, growth, new fruits, and death flows in the forest cycle.

            I meditated on Shalom as I sat on a boulder in the araucaria forest and  opened myself to learn from creation. The Hebrew word “Shalom” has a meaning which is broader and deeper than the word “peace” in English.  It is the desire of the best and richest blessings from God and it is the sense of tranquility, cooperation, and well-being on a personal and community level. Shalom is an invitation to a constant and profound search in the mystery of the essential relationships for life.  The Bible tells us that “ when peacemakers plant seeds of peace, they will harvest justice.” (James 3:18)  I considered what it meant for me to be a peacemaker planting the seeds of Shalom, and I compared my mission to the dilatory but constant growth of the  araucaria forest. The events of this past year have caused me to reflect in depth about the interconnectedness of life, and there with the araucarias, I wondered how the seeds planted in my ministry in Chile are intertwined with happenings and people around the world.

             With the daily news of injustice, war, violence and the destruction of the environment, it is easy for to lose sight of hope.  The United Nations has called upon the countries and inhabitants of the world to commit themselves to a culture of peace during the year 2000 and the decade that follows it. The Manifesto 2000 invites us to respect life, to practice active non-violence, to share our time and our material resources, to defend the liberty of expression and cultural diversity, to promote a responsible consumption of the natural resources, and to contribute to the development of our community.  We are called to be sowers and gardeners of peace assuming our role as protagonists in the promotion of healthy relationships departing from an inner transformation and projecting out toward others and the entire creation of God.  We must believe that as we patiently care for the seeds and delicate shoots of peace, we will one day harvest a healthy crop of justice.  

I seek to be a seed sower, an active part of the healing plan of God to help strengthen and transform the relationships of people with God, themselves, others and creation.  This is a life long learning process. I have many questions about how to plant and care for the seeds of peace in a troubled and violent world and how to create a balance between the needs of individuals and those of society while celebrating diversity in all of its human and non human forms. I want to continue to explore how "ecology", or the study of our home, includes the complex interactions between people, God, and nature.

“Today physicians, philosophers, theologians, and scientists are exploring the frontiers of a world in which relationship, rather than isolation is the key to understanding reality.  From the perspective of ecology, systems thinking, and the new physics, the universe is a dynamic community of interconnected energy events in which each unique being arises from the influence of the whole universe.  Amid the complex interplay  of pattern and novelty, the fluttering of a butterfly’s wings in California influences the weather patterns in Washington, D.C.  Physicist David Bohm asserts that the universe is a “holoverse,” or undivided whole, in which the whole is present and reflected holographically in each part, and the part shapes the character of the whole…  Love rather than alienation is essential to reality, according to the emerging metaphysical, theological, and scientific worldview.”  (God’s Touch, p.118 by Bruce G. Epperly)

            I have worked with the Pentecostal Church of Chile, a grassroots Christian movement, for the past sixteen years. Sometimes I forget that story telling and listening are a vital part of my ministry, and I try to rush through the story to get on with all the things that need to be done.   I continue to be surprised by the connections between the stories  of pain and hope and the stories of deep seated conflict and of new life.   September 11^th , 2001 will forever be branded on the memories of people, especially Americans, who lived, many for the first time, the harsh realities of international violence and hate at their doorsteps.  September 11^th, 1973 is remembered with anguish by the Chilean people.  On that tragic day, the military forces of the country, heavily supported  by the American Central Intelligence Agency, bombed the offices of the Chilean president and staged a successful coup that lead to years of a powerfully repressive dictatorship.  Although Chile now has an established democratic government, the unresolved issues of the dictatorship bubble just beneath the surface of society. Though there has been an attempt at "reconciliation and dialogue," the divisions between the right and the left, the rich and the poor, the indigenous and the "non natives", the city people and the country folk, Catholics and Protestants, continue to grow.

The vision of Shalom becomes a quest for those who dare to ask questions and seek answers.   How can we combine peace education with environmental education and Christian education in a hands on, dynamic, practical setting?  Where can we live together and work, play, and pray hand in hand?  How can we learn to love, respect and appreciate each other, ourselves, God and creation? Can we learn to face our conflicts and dare to grow through them instead of burying our differences and allowing the wounds to fester in our hearts, minds, and relationships?   How can we heal from our individual and collective traumas? The challenge is in discovering how all the parts of the system fit together.

Shalom requires a covenant with God and a willingness on our part to yield by faith to “a power not our own, which is to concede that we are not in charge and that we are not managers of our destiny and our ministry. Shalom is precisely the capacity to yield to the gift of power, which comes unexpectedly and unexplained and, therefore, is neither understood nor managed by us. . . (It) requires that we be open to guidance, to think thoughts and embrace values and take actions that we never thought we would do.”  (Living Toward a Vision, p. 149 by Walter Brueggemann)

Shalom Center Theme Song

As we prepare for the camps of the spring and the summer at the Shalom Center, our theme song is running through my mind.  It is in Spanish, of course, but I would like to share with you the words, translated into English

            In the image of God

Because God gave us many colors to dream

And then to paint what we are feeling inside.

We’re invited to dance in a rhythm of love

With the light and the song of wind.

Because God gave us each identity,

And made each one of us unique and different.

In freedom and love, with creative gifts

Formed in the image of our God.

Chorus:

And so God spoke, and all was created

And God rejoiced, and felt  great delight

And seeing all had been made good, God smiled

And called us each to share in creation.

And so God spoke, and all was created

And God rejoiced, and felt great delight;

Wonderfully made in the image of God

We have the freedom to create and to love.

Because God gave us the ability to think

To disagree and then to make decisions

God gave us the word, images, senses and reason

To speak and express our opinions.

Because God gave us spaces to grow

With a thousand smiles, emotions, and games.

God invited us to share, to believe and create

In the dance of liberty.

Words by Marijo Veiga y María Victoria Servián (Paraguay)

Sung to the music “Lena s’endort”  by Ismael Ledesma (Paraguay)

Translated by Elena Huegel

The Path of Simplicity

THE PATH OF SIMPLICITY

The used clothing stores in Chile are called “American clothing” stores.  Every week, shiploads of used clothing from the United States arrive in ports all over South America.  In Chile, the clothing is classified with more expensive or luxurious items going to more exclusive used clothing stores and the more common ones going to tumbled heaps in rummage sale style markets.  The poorest people in Chile depend on these markets for their clothing needs.  I choose to buy most of my clothes, including the costumes for the theater group, at the “American clothing” stores or markets.  This decision comes from my personal convictions about the care of the earth and the wise use of natural resources, the obligation to be in solidarity with the poor, and the need to protest, in some small way, the slave like conditions of most people who work for multinational clothing corporations.   These convictions have grown out of my cross cultural pilgrimage and from my close relationship with and love of nature.

            The homes on Manuel Correa street in Curicó all belong to people from the middle or lower middle classes.  The carefully kept yards, both in front and behind the houses, reflect the orderly and decent character of the people who live there.  The house on one corner has a high fence made out of manicured shrubbery and the house on the other corner has flowers lining the short walk to the front door.  In between, there is the house with the four Husky dogs, the house with the bright green grass and tiny swimming pool, and the house with the beautiful roses and grape arbor.  Then there is the house where the backyard is overgrown with yellow, orange, purple, and blue wildflowers, tall, sun burnt golden grasses, a crazy lopsided lemon tree, and bright pink and green camellia bush.  That is my house.  I am not the only one that enjoys the “unkempt, and shabby”  yard; it is a haven for butterflies, birds, snails, caterpillars, bees, and lizards that flock there seeking refuge in the “weeds” from human predators, pesticides and artificial fertilizers.  Yes, my neighbors either think I am a little strange or else feel sorry for me, a single woman with no one to keep the yard for her.  I love my tiny wilderness!

            The simplicity path is not one of deprivation.  It is an inner process where the truly important things in life are prioritized and projected out into behaviors and actions.  It is the decision to not be governed by the glitz of advertising or the drive to buy but to enjoy and be good stewards of the material blessings of food, clothing, and shelter and the spiritual blessings of dreams and hopes, friends and family.  It is the recognition that a price tag cannot be placed on people or nature, and that creation has intrinsic value because it is God’s masterpiece and not because of  its service our needs   This path starts with the refusal to bow before the modern god called consumerism and to risk a profound and responsible relationship with the God of creation.  The choice of walking on the path of simplicity is a decision  that touches at the core of who we are and what we believe and then overflows in a  bubbling spring of gratitude streaming toward others with compassion, a desire to share, and a sense of communion with God, others, and nature.  The simplicity path leads to a constant questioning of what motivates us and an implacable search for inner and outer balance. To chose this path is a sign of spiritual maturity: a growing up and away from ego centrism, constant worry, and the need to control.   

            Richard J. Foster in his book Celebration of Discipline suggests that voluntary simplicity is the outside evidence of an inner transformation. He suggests ten ways to put into practice voluntary simplicity:

1. Buy things for their utility not for the socio-economic level that they represent.  You can choose to buy a fuel efficient car or to ride a bicycle instead of driving.

2. Refuse to buy anything that creates a dependency. 

3. Develop the habit of giving things away.  If you are attached to a possession, give it away!

4. Refuse to be programmed by those who are trying to sell the latest modern gadgets.

5. Learn to enjoy things without the obsession to own them.

6. Develop a profound appreciation for nature.

7. Develop a healthy skepticism toward anything that says “buy now, pay later.”

8. Let your language and the way you speak reflect your sincerity and simplicity.

9. Reject anything that increases or supports the oppression of other people.

10.     Avoid anything that distracts you from “seeking first the kingdom of God and his righteousness.”

Foster, Richard, J. Celebration of Discipline. Spanish Trans.  Alabanza a la Disciplina. Nashville:

            Editorial Caribe, 1986. 101-107.

The Web Unraveled

The Web Unraveled

            “At the far end of town where the grickle grass grows and the wind smells slow and sour when it blows, is the land of the lifted Lorax...”  I can write from memory these words that open Dr. Seus´s book The Lorax. I read the story every Friday morning to the children at the School of Environmental Education in Texas for three years, and yet I never tired of the crazy rhymes and the sad story of how the old Oncler, because of his unabated greed, brought destruction to the land of the Truffula trees.  As the story progresses,  the Lorax tries to warn the Oncler, to no avail, of how his production of Thneeds is contaminating the air and the water.  Finally, the last Truffula tree is cut and the whole web of life is unraveled.  Nothing can live in the wasteland left behind. As I see the story of the Oncler repeated over and over again, I wonder if we will heed the warnings before it is too late.

            Just outside of Mexico City is a beautiful reserve called the “Desert of the Lions.”  It is quite a misnomer since it isn’t a desert at all but a forest, and the nearest lion is many miles away in the zoo.  They say that the park was given this name because it was a deserted tract of land donated by the Lion (or León in Spanish) family. On many hikes with my family through this forest, the trees, ferns, mosses, streams, sunlight, and rich earthy smell awakened in me a profound love and respect for God’s creation.  

One morning, as we drove along the winding highway up to the reserve entrance, I  witnessed a strange and mysterious crime.  Many trees were dead along the roadside, some fallen over and some still standing,  their bark gone and their trunks pale in the early light like white flags of surrender.  I was only a girl, but the solemn sadness of that morning is burned into my memory as if with a branding iron.  The forest was dying and nobody knew why.

When we talked to the forest rangers, they told us that the trees of the eastern coasts of Canada and the United States and of the Black Forest in Germany were suffering from the same unknown plague.  The articles in my environmental magazines spoke of  secret  microscopic assassins that roamed stealthily through the forests of the world killing trees without leaving a trace.   It wasn’t until many years later that the environmental detectives were able to decipher the clues leading to the perpetrators of these crimes.  After years of unchecked atmospheric pollution caused by industries, factories, and vehicles, the clouds over the Mexico City valley had become so saturated with chemicals that the trees on the mountain sides were being burned by acid rain baths.  The forests all over the world are dying in a heroic effort to clean the air full of toxins. 

The death of the forests means more than the loss of trees.  Every breath that we have ever breathed has depended on the oxygen processed by billions of leaves around the world.  The food we eat comes from the soil enriched by those same leaves, naturally composted over hundreds of years, and held in place by grasping roots and staunch trunks that protect from the eroding forces of wind and rain.  Thousands of manufactured goods were born from tree seedlings: houses, tools, furniture, pencils, and even the very pages of this book.  The forest habitat is home for creatures known and unknown and for many humans; no one knows how many  insects and plants are yet to be discovered in the different forests around the world.  Humans depend daily on the medicines, food, and fuel for cooking and heating produced by trees.

The loss of the forests is more that just a material, physical, or economic loss.  It represents also a profound spiritual loss.   Throughout time, people have retreated to the forest seeking in the solitude and silentious music of birds, wind, insects, and water the whisper of the God of creation and of their own souls.  Trees have been the subjects and settings for poems, paintings, plays, stories, and sculptures.  In their towering majesty and profound stability, trees somehow bridge for humanity the distance between  heaven and earth.   Trees are the ancients who hold the secret wisdom of the ages in the rings of their hearts and link the history of humanity and the world with present and future.  Trees are the cradles that rock us in our childhood, the projects inspire us in our youth, the canes that support us in our old age, and the coffins that bury us.   The death the forests could very well mean the death of humanity.

Yes, the forests are dying, and their dying is a warning, a horrid portent of what is to come. We have transgressed the principles by which creation was founded and so we have snatched away its potential for carrying out its primary purpose.   The fundamental objective of creation is to praise God, but how can a river polluted with all kinds of toxic substances praise the Creator?  How can the birds sing their praises if  they fall motionless to the earth due to air pollution?  How can the soil give food if it is full of artificial pesticides and fertilizers which rob it of its natural nutrients?  Humanity has opened a chasm that separates creation from its Creator.  We are the ones warned about in Revelation 11:18.  We are the ones who will be judged, for we are “those who destroy the earth.“

“So, ‘catch’ calls the Oncler, and he lets something fall.  It is the very last Truffula seed of them all.”  The Lorax ends with the puzzling word “unless” and a challenge to every reader.  We all have the last of the Truffula seeds in our hands.  “Unless” each of us chooses to plant the seeds and grow back the forest, “unless” we look at the world from a different perspective and change our  priorities, habits, and expectations, “unless” we as individuals and as a society learn to care for our home, the earth, then “nothing is going to get better. Its not.”     

    

  

Wisdom sayings from around the world

SIMPLE WISDOM FROM AROUND THE WORLD

Japan   “Harmony is the most valuable thing.”

            “One arrow breaks easily, but three arrows break hard.”

Caribbean – American  “I divide, you chose.”

An intentional American community  “The circle is open but not broken!”

Paraguay (from the Guarani community)   “We must be happy together.”

Africa (several different countries) “You can tell how a village treats its people by the way they treat their dogs.”

Nigeria  “Never leave your brother behind.”

Brazil  “If it is not through love, it is through pain.”

            “Everyone has a beat, together we make a rhythm.”

Latin America (Several different countries)   “Unity makes strength.”

Ethiopia “If threads come together, they can tie the lion.”

            “50 lemons are a burden for one person, but they are jewels for 50 people.”

South East Mollucas  “Eggs come from one bird or fish – we are all one.”

Mother Theresa  “We belong to each other.”

Nigeria (Nnewi community)  “One man is not wiser that the community.”

Belgium  “All I need is the air that I breathe and to love you.”

                        “Every bird sings its own song.”

Middle East  “Hand in hand to dance.

                        Hand in hand to share.

                        Hand in hand to help each other.

                        Hand in hand to be stronger.

                        Hand in hand to see the hope, the joy, and feel it.

                        Not in a broken circle, but in an open circle.

                        That’s the hope.

South Sudan  “Let us share equally the little we have, and relieve the pain with love.”

Chile “He who gets close to a good tree, is covered by good shade.“