Sabbatical, week 7 - part 2
(Yesterday was sunny and beautiful, so I went into town, had lunch at Pisa Lisa, and saw a movie. Today it is snowing, with 10-18 inches expected. Much better day for writing.)
For someone white and privileged, India is like traveling to another planet. For starters, it's 10.5 hours ahead of the east coast of the U.S. Ten and a half, like Platform 9 3/4. On the roads with more than one lane, the lines between lanes are suggestive rather than prescriptive. Drivers keep their options open at all times, including squeezing between two other vehicles with a couple of polite beeps of the horn. Along with trucks and autos, the road is shared with motorcycles, bikes, 3-wheeled, 2 cylinder tuk tuks, carts pulled by work animals, and pedestrians as young as 6. Three centuries (19th, 2oth and 21st) of technology and culture exist simultaneously. Monkeys, dogs, and cows wander freely. Bricks are still fired in tall chimneys. And yet children who don't speak much English know what a selfie is. Discarded plastic is everywhere. As is poverty.
I asked one of our contacts in India about the seeming fearlessness of drivers and that 6 year old girl we saw crossing the street. He said, we trust that other drivers are not out to get us. Also, we trust in God, that God is in control. And so I trusted our Uber drivers, and Herjinder and Ravindra, drivers for our contacts, Sunil and Rohit. I am so thankful for these friends of my friend, Charanjeet, who made sure David and I were cared for while we were in India.
That barking cough turned into a fever and chest congestion. By the time we got to Amritsar by train, both of my ears were blocked and becoming painful. Before we left Delhi, I contacted Sunil and asked if I could see a doctor, even that day when we arrived in Amritsar. And sure enough, Sunil and Charanjeet conspired and found an ENT in Amritsar that I could see that evening. When David tried to pay for the doctor visit and the medication he prescribed, Sunil shook his head 'no' and I wept tears of thanks because I knew my brother Charanjeet was taking the caring, upper hand. When I saw the following prayer posted in the waiting room, I knew I would be well-cared for:
"It is indeed a tragedy of circumstances, my Lord, that my livelihood involves meeting people with unbearable pain.
"But also it is my good fortune that you have given me this excellent opportunity to mitigate their suffering and thus atone for whatever selfish interest I might have.
"You have cast upon my shoulders this great responsibility and have also given me dexterity to do it.
"Please grant me the strengths, my God, to enable me to fulfill this task in all earnestness.
"And yet, all the while, let me have unwavering faith in you, and let me not ever forget that ultimately it is you who are the real great healer and the fountainhead of well-being, and that I am merely a medium through which your benevolence flows.
"My Lord, bestow upon my patient thy healing touch."
Even though I had this infection, I still managed to do everything I wanted to do. Ravindra drove us the three hours from Delhi to Agra so we could visit the Taj Mahal. We visited with the bishop of the Methodist Church in India, Bishop Subodh Mondal, because my Aunt Colleen was the secretary to the bishop when she first came to India as Methodist missionary in 1949. She also worked at a children's home in Delhi; the bishop gave us a tour of a children's home located in the same compound as the school and the bishop's house. As part of our visit to Amritsar, we took a day trip to Batala where my aunt taught at a Methodist girls' school. We also visited a Punjabi tourist attraction called Sadda Pind and watched the ceremony of lowering the flags at the Wagah border with Pakistan.
And we honored our friendship with Charanjeet by visiting the holiest site of the Sikh religion, the Golden Temple or the gurdwara known as Harmandir Sahib. Located on the grounds of the gurdwara is the largest community kitchen in the world, serving up to 100,000 people a day. But as our Sikh guide instructed us, this is done not as a service to the community but as service to humanity. Everyone sits on the floor, everyone equal. Anyone can have a free hot meal. Anyone can volunteer to help chop onions and garlic, wash dishes, cool the hot naan as it comes out of the oven. Some homeless folks live near the kitchen. No one judges them. They are fed and accepted. People come to drink and to immerse themselves in the nectar, the water that surrounds the temple. Before we entered the grounds we washed both our feet and hands and walked barefoot throughout. We stood in a crowded line for more than an hour to enter one of four doors, the four directions, in that everyone is welcome and again, everyone is equal. There is one God, known in many ways.
I find it interesting that many eastern religions, like Hinduism, Buddhism, and Sikhism, have more room for the rest of us than Christianity as practiced by some in the U.S. and throughout history. Ironically, if every adherent to every religion followed its peaceful, compassionate center, the world would be healed. Even though organized religion of one sort or another has been in existence for about 4,000 years, humanity still has not evolved beyond hate, fear, greed, aggression, violence, and the need to compete.
And I see it in myself. I call it "we want to keep what we have". The phrase "love your neighbor as yourself" is popular now, but we cannot, will not trust that our neighbor will care for us the way we would care for them. We disdain those with their hands out for money or food and yet we didn't get where we are without help of some kind. Socialism and communism have a bad reputation in some corners and yet "All who believed were together and had all things in common; they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need." (Acts 2: 44-45)
It's an interesting coincidence that in some Western countries where religious adherence is on the wane, socialism, that is, society organized around the care of one another, flourishes. Here in the United States we say with pride that we live in a free society: free to do with our property as we wish, to choose, and yet more often than not, we choose for ourselves and for those who look, act, speak, think, believe like us. We want to keep what we have.
As seen on Twitter:
For someone white and privileged, India is like traveling to another planet. For starters, it's 10.5 hours ahead of the east coast of the U.S. Ten and a half, like Platform 9 3/4. On the roads with more than one lane, the lines between lanes are suggestive rather than prescriptive. Drivers keep their options open at all times, including squeezing between two other vehicles with a couple of polite beeps of the horn. Along with trucks and autos, the road is shared with motorcycles, bikes, 3-wheeled, 2 cylinder tuk tuks, carts pulled by work animals, and pedestrians as young as 6. Three centuries (19th, 2oth and 21st) of technology and culture exist simultaneously. Monkeys, dogs, and cows wander freely. Bricks are still fired in tall chimneys. And yet children who don't speak much English know what a selfie is. Discarded plastic is everywhere. As is poverty.
I asked one of our contacts in India about the seeming fearlessness of drivers and that 6 year old girl we saw crossing the street. He said, we trust that other drivers are not out to get us. Also, we trust in God, that God is in control. And so I trusted our Uber drivers, and Herjinder and Ravindra, drivers for our contacts, Sunil and Rohit. I am so thankful for these friends of my friend, Charanjeet, who made sure David and I were cared for while we were in India.
That barking cough turned into a fever and chest congestion. By the time we got to Amritsar by train, both of my ears were blocked and becoming painful. Before we left Delhi, I contacted Sunil and asked if I could see a doctor, even that day when we arrived in Amritsar. And sure enough, Sunil and Charanjeet conspired and found an ENT in Amritsar that I could see that evening. When David tried to pay for the doctor visit and the medication he prescribed, Sunil shook his head 'no' and I wept tears of thanks because I knew my brother Charanjeet was taking the caring, upper hand. When I saw the following prayer posted in the waiting room, I knew I would be well-cared for:
"It is indeed a tragedy of circumstances, my Lord, that my livelihood involves meeting people with unbearable pain.
"But also it is my good fortune that you have given me this excellent opportunity to mitigate their suffering and thus atone for whatever selfish interest I might have.
"You have cast upon my shoulders this great responsibility and have also given me dexterity to do it.
"Please grant me the strengths, my God, to enable me to fulfill this task in all earnestness.
"And yet, all the while, let me have unwavering faith in you, and let me not ever forget that ultimately it is you who are the real great healer and the fountainhead of well-being, and that I am merely a medium through which your benevolence flows.
"My Lord, bestow upon my patient thy healing touch."
Even though I had this infection, I still managed to do everything I wanted to do. Ravindra drove us the three hours from Delhi to Agra so we could visit the Taj Mahal. We visited with the bishop of the Methodist Church in India, Bishop Subodh Mondal, because my Aunt Colleen was the secretary to the bishop when she first came to India as Methodist missionary in 1949. She also worked at a children's home in Delhi; the bishop gave us a tour of a children's home located in the same compound as the school and the bishop's house. As part of our visit to Amritsar, we took a day trip to Batala where my aunt taught at a Methodist girls' school. We also visited a Punjabi tourist attraction called Sadda Pind and watched the ceremony of lowering the flags at the Wagah border with Pakistan.
And we honored our friendship with Charanjeet by visiting the holiest site of the Sikh religion, the Golden Temple or the gurdwara known as Harmandir Sahib. Located on the grounds of the gurdwara is the largest community kitchen in the world, serving up to 100,000 people a day. But as our Sikh guide instructed us, this is done not as a service to the community but as service to humanity. Everyone sits on the floor, everyone equal. Anyone can have a free hot meal. Anyone can volunteer to help chop onions and garlic, wash dishes, cool the hot naan as it comes out of the oven. Some homeless folks live near the kitchen. No one judges them. They are fed and accepted. People come to drink and to immerse themselves in the nectar, the water that surrounds the temple. Before we entered the grounds we washed both our feet and hands and walked barefoot throughout. We stood in a crowded line for more than an hour to enter one of four doors, the four directions, in that everyone is welcome and again, everyone is equal. There is one God, known in many ways.
I find it interesting that many eastern religions, like Hinduism, Buddhism, and Sikhism, have more room for the rest of us than Christianity as practiced by some in the U.S. and throughout history. Ironically, if every adherent to every religion followed its peaceful, compassionate center, the world would be healed. Even though organized religion of one sort or another has been in existence for about 4,000 years, humanity still has not evolved beyond hate, fear, greed, aggression, violence, and the need to compete.
And I see it in myself. I call it "we want to keep what we have". The phrase "love your neighbor as yourself" is popular now, but we cannot, will not trust that our neighbor will care for us the way we would care for them. We disdain those with their hands out for money or food and yet we didn't get where we are without help of some kind. Socialism and communism have a bad reputation in some corners and yet "All who believed were together and had all things in common; they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need." (Acts 2: 44-45)
It's an interesting coincidence that in some Western countries where religious adherence is on the wane, socialism, that is, society organized around the care of one another, flourishes. Here in the United States we say with pride that we live in a free society: free to do with our property as we wish, to choose, and yet more often than not, we choose for ourselves and for those who look, act, speak, think, believe like us. We want to keep what we have.
As seen on Twitter:
Church isn't the building or the people who worship there or who claim a relationship with it, not anymore. Church, as I think Jesus would've done it, is everywhere, anywhere there is unconditional love, radical forgiveness, restorative justice, fearless compassion, and privilege is spent generously for the liberation of others. At least Church is those who work toward these things. And yet the word Church is too limited. If we are going to expand beyond the concept of Church (ekklesia - "called out"), expand our ability to give and serve beyond our own security, we need to expand our language.
Thoughts, dear readers?
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