Summer Travels to the Midwest (Luke)

Greetings from Chicago!

Andrea and I have been in the Chicagoland area now since July 9th. We came into town for several different church events: ELCA Orientation, Ecumenical Orientation (with Lutherans, Presbyterians, Catholics, RCAs, and Episcopals), and the ELCA Summer Missionarys Conference. While we came for the church events, we've been able to connect with family, friends, and colleagues during our free time. In total, we're here for just over three weeks.

This past weekend we had the opportunity to be with Holy Shepherd Lutheran Church in northwest Indiana, the congregation where Andrea served as an intern last year. They invited us to preach at their services and, like good Lutherans (and Presbyterians!), had an ice cream social one night and pot luck the next day, during which we shared about our current ministry through ELCA Global Mission.

We wanted to share the sermon we preached at Holy Shepherd with you, so we've included it below. It was a shared sermon, meaning we were both preaching, so we've noted who said what by putting our names in parentheses.

Andrea and I are headed to Tucson for a very brief visit this Friday to Sunday. I will appear before my Presbytery (ordaining body) to be examined for ordination...a long anticipated event! So, I invite you to keep the Presbytery in your prayers on Saturday at 10 a.m., that the Spirit's presence might be known by all in attendance.

Of course, I will let you know as soon as possible about the outcome of the meeting!

Ephesians 2: 11-22

So then, remember that at one time you Gentiles by birth, called "the uncircumcision" by those who are called "the circumcision" — a physical circumcision made in the flesh by human hands — remember that you were at that time without Christ, being aliens from the commonwealth of Israel, and strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world. But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For he is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us. He has abolished the law with its commandments and ordinances, that he might create in himself one new humanity in place of the two, thus making peace, and might reconcile both groups to God in one body through the cross, thus putting to death that hostility through it. So he came and proclaimed peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near; for through him both of us have access in one Spirit to the Father. So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God, built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the cornerstone. In him the whole structure is joined together and grows into a holy temple in the Lord; in whom you also are built together spiritually into a dwelling place for God.

Mark 6: 30-34, 53-56

The apostles gathered around Jesus, and told him all that they had done and taught. He said to them, "Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while." For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat. And they went away in the boat to a deserted place by themselves. Now many saw them going and recognized them, and they hurried there on foot from all the towns and arrived ahead of them. As he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd; and he began to teach them many things. When they had crossed over, they came to land at Gennesaret and moored the boat. When they got out of the boat, people at once recognized him, and rushed about that whole region and began to bring the sick on mats to wherever they heard he was. And wherever he went, into villages or cities or farms, they laid the sick in the marketplaces, and begged him that they might touch even the fringe of his cloak; and all who touched it were healed.

Sermon

(Andrea) I must admit, Luke and I were a little nervous when we read the Gospel lesson for this week. At first glance, it seems fairly benign…that is, until you try to understand it in light of global mission work, and then it gets a little more dangerous.

It’s really easy to hear the old, stereotypical understanding of mission in this text – to understand missionaries in the position of Jesus, gathering the people around him, teaching them, healing them, showing them compassion. We were afraid you might imagine us in the position of Jesus – gathering the people of Mexico around us, teaching them, healing them, showing them compassion.

To be honest with you, nothing could be further from the truth, and thank God for that! There’s no justice in the stereotypical model of mission. There’s no give-and-take, no equal relationships, no recognition that we all share one table. Fortunately, the Lutheran Church understands this. We understand global mission as an act of accompaniment – of walking alongside people, of learning with them, struggling with them, celebrating with them, worshiping with them. If anything, the people of Mexico are gathering around us, teaching us, healing us, showing us compassion.

We’ve been serving in Mexico for 8 months now. Luke’s work involves leading delegations through immersion programs; helping people from the U.S. and Canada to learn more about Mexican culture, religion, politics, and social realities. I serve as the Mexico Country Coordinator for Young Adults in Global Mission, guiding a group of young people through a year-long program of cultural immersion, reflection, and volunteer service.

Through our work, we’ve discovered a more authentically Mexican version of the Lutheran accompaniment model:

In the indigenous Mayan language of Nahuat’l, there are 2 words for word: the word we speak, and the word we listen to. In Mayan culture, the words we listen to are far more important than the words we speak.

(Luke) One aim of the Lutheran Immersion Program in Mexico is to find ways that we – those of us from the other side of the border – can meet Mexicans where they are. One way we seek to do this is by visiting with families from Patios de La Estación, a very poor neighborhood in Cuernavaca. La Estación is a marginalized community by anyone’s definition: people don’t hold title to their land, most homes are made of sticks and cardboard, and running water is a luxury.

During our most recent visit, I took a group of young Lutherans to visit a woman named Victoria who lives in a two-room house. Victoria’s home has cement floors, brick walls, and a metal roof – which makes it one of the nicest in the community. These home visits are a time for Q and A, an opportunity to hear directly from people who are generally hidden from society. After the participants are finished asking their questions, sometimes the women have questions of their own. During this particular visit, Victoria asked the group, “Would you want to live in my house?” Silence... The silence broke with gut-wrenching honesty. One group member answered and then another, and then another, until everyone in the group had said, “No.”

Experiences with the Lutheran Immersion Program often change people, regardless if they’re Mexican, American, or Canadian. The program intentionally provides a perspective different from what we are used to, and a glimpse into the reality that most people live daily. It’s never easy, but it almost always sparks something. After this visit to La Estación, a young woman named Sarah said something to me that will stick with me for some time. In exasperation she said, “I can’t believe what I saw today. I don’t know what to do, but I feel like I should do something. Part of me wishes that I could just remain ignorant.”

In the indigenous Mayan language of Nahuat’l, there are 2 words for word: the word we speak, and the word we listen to. In Mayan culture, the words we listen to are far more important than the words we speak.

Sarah feels called to learn more, to seek justice, to do something. She listened to Victoria’s story at her home in La Estación, and she can never go back. Ignorance is no longer an option for her.

(Andrea) Every February, Luke and I take my group of young adult volunteers to the U.S./Mexico border. We renew their visas, and then stay for a week, learning about immigration, U.S. border policies, the North American Free Trade Agreement, Operation Gatekeeper, and the social and economic realities that force Mexicans to risk their lives crossing the border without documents.

For two nights, this February, we staffed the Migrant Resource Center, a small building, in Mexico, less than 100 feet from the border. When undocumented migrants get caught in the Arizona desert by the U.S. Border Patrol, they’re released, in Mexico, less than 50 feet from the border. They generally have no more food, no more water, and very little money. They’re often exhausted, dehydrated, and hypothermic, and many have injuries to their feet. The Migrant Resource Center is a place where people can get a cup of coffee, a cup of instant noodles, a sweatshirt, and some basic first aid. It’s a place to regroup – to decide whether to go back home the next day, or to rest up and try again. It’s a haven for desperate people in desperate circumstances.

One of those desperate people, the night we were there, was a 7-year-old boy named Felipe. When Felipe walked into the Center with his parents, I froze – partly because he was so young, and partly because I felt like I knew him. My friend Laurel has a son named Silas who has the most distinct eyes I’ve ever seen. Felipe had these same eyes.

Alisha, one of my volunteers, went over and welcomed them, got them some food and some ibuprofen, and then told me that the little boy needed new shoelaces. “OK,” I stammered. “We’ll find some.” I was still stunned by his eyes. The only laces we could find had frayed ends, but Alisha and I took them and sat, cross-legged, in front of Felipe’s chair, a foot in each of our laps. We talked to Felipe and his family about where they were from, where they were planning to go, what kind of work they would look for when they got to the States.

At one point Alisha turned to me and said, “You know, this would be a lot easier if we just took his shoes and laced them over at the desk.” “No, no!” I said, maybe a little too emphatically. “I’m good, right here. We’ll get it.” I didn’t want to leave. It was like my friend’s son was sitting right in front of me, about to walk for days and days across the desert. I looked up, where Felipe was slurping his Cup of Noodles. He smiled, but the cup was so big that all I could see were his eyes.

When Felipe and his family left that night, they were planning to cross again before sunrise. I don’t know if they tried. If they did, I don’t know if they survived. More than 400 don’t, every year, in the Arizona desert alone. All I know is that I’ve never prayed harder in my life than I did that night, listening to Felipe and his parents, telling stories about their lives and slurping noodles.

In the indigenous Mayan language of Nahuat’l, there are 2 words for word: the word we speak, and the word we listen to. In Mayan culture, the words we listen to are far more important than the words we speak.

I’ll never forget Felipe’s eyes. Listening to him and his parents that night gave me new motivation to seek justice through immigration reform, and new courage to believe that change is possible.

(Luke) It’s tempting to understand today’s Gospel as promoting the stereotypical understanding of mission – where we gather the people around us, teaching them, healing them, showing them compassion. But in his letter to the Ephesians, Paul writes that Christ has broken down the dividing wall, and the hostility between us…that Christ has come to create one new humanity, and to reconcile both groups to God. He goes on to write that we are no longer strangers and aliens, but citizens with the saints, and members of the household of God.

When we’re talking about Mexico, the notion of breaking down dividing walls is no small thing. The concept of no longer being strangers and aliens is no small thing. And for us – for Felipe, Victoria, Sarah, me, Andrea, and you – being members of one new humanity and of the household with God, is no small thing, either. It turns out that the Gospel was right all along, as long as we leave Jesus in his rightful place. Jesus gathers all of us together – Americans, Mexicans, everyone – teaching us, healing us, showing us compassion. It’s only when we recognize this that we can truly walk along-side one another, in equal and just relationships, in search of the kin-dom of God.

(Andrea) In the indigenous Mayan language of Nahuat’l, there are 2 words for word: the word we speak, and the word we listen to. In Mayan culture, the words we listen to are far more important than the words we speak.

We invite you to join us in Mexico, in whatever ways you can – we invite you to pray for us, to sponsor us, to follow our blog, to participate in a delegation. We invite you to come, and listen for yourselves.