An Occasional Ecuadorian
We’re a little over halfway through our time together here, and so we’ve reached our scheduled day of Sabbath time. Caroline and I took the team to one of our favorite places to eat for empanadas and ice cream. And we spent the morning at the equator and the afternoon doing solo time at El Refugio.
Any time there’s a few minutes to kill, or when we’re saying good-bye, or just when we’ve got a break between worship and lunch, the tradition at Emaús is to get everyone dancing. The dance team from the church shared a couple of traditional dances with us, but the team got to share a little as well.
One of our projects while we have been at Emaús has been to paint signs for the neighborhood. The Sewanee team did this last year, and the church appreciated how it turned out so much they wanted to do even more. Part of the project was to put up signs with directions to Emaús. The church building is hidden away in the neighborhood a little bit, behind the construction yard. So the congregation wants people to be able to find them. But they also wanted to put up signs with scripture and inspirational quotes, to make people feel better and to beautify the neighborhood.
As a staff at Soapstone, we have been reading Liturgy of the Ordinary by Tish Harrison Warren. From the first chapter, it has sparked a lot of conversations both about how we are mindful of our faith in everyday activities, but also about having intentionality in all aspects of worship.
I have used many of her examples about Baptism in the last few weeks as I have taught Confirmation and UMYF, and led discussions on missions. The call to Remember our Baptism keeps bringing me back to living in Gaujaló and working at Emaús. At Emaús, the Baptismal font lives right next to the door so it’s easy to touch the water and be mindful of it upon entering for work or worship. When Lourdes was the priest in charge here, she would end every single service by sending water flying with a metal “flinger.” I’m sure there’s some ecclesiastical term* for it, but “flinger” really gives you a picture of what happened. Because Lourdes has an arm. I think she missed her calling as a softball pitcher. When that water was flung at the face, it hurt. You couldn’t help but remember your Baptism.
Lourdes used to use the same flinger, or sometimes a branch, to send water all over the place when she would bless a house for someone who had just moved in (including when her own family and I moved into the house above the tienda). The blessing of the household was a reminder that God is present with us not just in the church building, but all throughout his creation, even what we consider the mundane. My friend (and star youth ministry volunteer) Sylvia remarked recently that her biggest monthly expense is rent, so in being mindful of how she uses her resources, she tries to find ways to use her home as a place of fellowship to glorify God, and I’ve appreciated that reminder as well.
There have been two Baptisms of small children since I’ve been at Soapstone. The first was of an infant who looked over his mothers shoulder the whole time trying to see the font. He wiggled and squirmed quietly, not trying to escape, but trying to get in the water. He just wanted to dive right into the water if Baptism. The second was an elementary-aged girl who seemed very skeptical as Pastor Laura began drenching her, but began to smile as the words of blessing were spoken over her. You could see in the change of her expression the way she was beginning to give in to what God was already doing.
At different times in my own life, I would describe both of those reactions as “mood.”
There’s nothing special about the water in the font, or on the flinger, or on my face or the wall of a home. But there’s a reminder in seeing and touching and hearing it splash of the fellowship and the Grace that we get to live into every day. And writing this post four feet from the font and ten feet from my team members, I’m excited I get to live into that with a new group at one of my favorite places for another week.
*Turns out when I looked this up, even the Catholic supply stores refer to the “flinger” as a “Holy Water Sprinkler.”
On the bus ride from the airport to the hostel, Caroline and I had barely learned the team’s names, but I already called that this was going to be a good, fun, low-maintenance team. It may be that I’ve just hosted so many groups at this point that I can pick up on their vibe like a guinea pig1. Or maybe they’re just that chill a group that anyone would notice.
The days have seemed pretty long because they have been so full, and because I was so low on sleep by the time I arrived via Houston. It has truly only been a small number of hours we have all been together. But even this morning as we received our welcome from Reverenda Nancy at Emaús, it seemed more accurate than normal when she told the team that this is their home. I’ve been thankful already for Lauren, the team leader, who is super calm, easy-going, and consistently expressing love to all around her. That kind of thing rubs off on a team in a big way, and I will probably continue to remark how much a leader can make or break a team. The other fun thing about our first few days is that despite it still being rainy season, it has been unbelievably clear outside. In the US, we talk about the sun being out. Here we talk about the volcanoes being out. On a particularly clear day, from here in Quito you can see the snow-capped volcano Cotopaxi, even though it is a whole province away. We had a gorgeous view of Cotopaxi for most of the way to Guajaló this morning. And when we walked up to the roof of the building we were even able to see the Panecillo from here. It is really not all that far away in the city, but the clouds or the fog usually stop us from seeing it.
It has been years since I could see Cotopaxi while I was in the bus with a team, and I told them what a treat it was to have the view we have even from the roof. Being in this place is always fun and meaningful, and I can see God’s work even when it pours so hard we get rained out of going to the park. But it certainly makes it easier to be in a good mood when all of God’s creation is on display so blatantly in every direction.
I also think it’s a good omen when native Spanish speakers manage to correctly spell my name (both “N”s and no “I”).
1People here say that guinea pigs can “sense auras.” When a group walks past a guinea pig pen, the animals will squeal if a group is anxious, but they’ll be quiet and still if the people in the group are calm. I never tell my groups this in advance, but I’ll tell them when we leave the pen if the guinea pigs were quiet when we were around.
I have variously described day one of a team’s schedule as Tourist Day, Question Day, and Forest Gump Day (“So I went to the Basilica… again”). This time around it has been more like Reminiscing Day. Caroline and I started talking early this morning on our walk to the hostel about all the Sewanee teams we have hosted together. We ate breakfast at El Descanso and I remembered all the people who have run this place over the years. I stood in the balcony of the Basilica sanctuary and thought of all the groups whose photos I’ve taken in front of the strained glass window. A woman there with her family even saw me taking pictures and said out loud “that guy looks like he knows what he’s doing,” and asked me to photograph them (which brought me back 11 years to Sarah Miller telling me how we’d all end up professional photographers by the end of that summer). As we gazed out over the city from the walkway under the tower I remembered how I felt the first time up that ladder (and how much out of my depth I felt most of my first summer as a host).
As we walked down the Via de Siete Cruces, Roberto and I were talking about the streets that are now closed to vehicle traffic. That happened sometime last year, either before I was here in March or before I was here over the summer. And as I tried to sort those out in my mind, I remarked to him how strange it was that I was just here eight months ago.
There have been plenty of moments over the last twelve years when I have been sad about all the people who used to be here that have gone back to live in the US or elsewhere. Or when I miss how things used to be when you didn’t have to wear seatbelts and could cram 19 people in a Chevy Suburban and didn’t have to stop at red lights after dark. Or I think about a restaurant that used to be somewhere, or the good old days when the Strawberry Soda had real sugar in it and they still made the spicy Doritos in the black bag.
But then I walk into the youth world office and run into a group of people I mostly met and got to know within the last twelve months and they’re so excited to see me that we wind up with this:
really And thinking through the changes I’ve seen I have to remind myself that so much here really I s the same. And so much of the change has been for the better. But either way, I’ve gotten to experience it with so many people. I can’t possibly tell my teams about all the different times I’ve been to the Basilica and Plaza San Francisco anymore. There’s not enough time to give them every bit of history and experience that I’ve gotten at each of those places. But I get to think about parejas who I’ve learned from, and students I’ve brought to share my beloved country with, and teams who have asked me questions, and leaders who many times had no idea of how much their personality would make or break a team. I smile thinking about Sarah and Amalia and Deborah and Jóse Luís and Kelsey and Dana and Darío and Emma and Gavriella and Joe and Julie and Marina all being with me at each of these places. But now I get to introduce a people and a place and an experience and a philosophy of mission to another new group of friends, who will go in twelve different directions nine days from now, into whatever and wherever God calls them in the post-field. And hopefully by then all of us will be changed.
It’s been a long time since I’ve made an effort to give out my blog address. So since I might have a new audience for the first time in a long time, I’m going to start my 2019 Quito Quest blogging journey by answering all the questions I usually get from people who are trying to figure out what exactly I do in Ecuador.
What exactly do you do in Ecuador?
I will be hosting a short-term team. In general, teams come for between 1-2 weeks to work with ministry sites in (and sometimes out of) Quito. The team hosts are around basically to take care of the team. Food, housing, transportation, translation, cultural acquisition… all the things they need to be running smoothly so they can do their projects, interact with people in a healthy way, and stay safe… that’s my job.
How long have you been doing this?
I started going to Ecuador in 2007. I’ve been hosting teams since 2008. I’ve lived there for several springs and summers and a big stint between 2009-2010. These days I just go back for two weeks or so every March to host a team. Since the first time I went, the longest I’ve ever gone without being in Ecuador was 15 months (between March 2012 when I hosted a Canadian team in the jungle and July 2013 when I took my own high school students from Elizabeth City on a team).
Where do you stay?
My wonderful friends the Vivanco family let me crash with them. Cameron, Roberto, Graham (7), Liam (5), and Francis (3) will be part of the cast of characters in my daily recaps. So, probably, will Luciano (the cat), and Caroline (my partner, who is also flying in from the U.S. just to be a host).
Do you get paid to do this?
That’s cute.
This is one of my favorite Ash Wednesday messages, written in 2013, and I thought it deserved to be bumped to the top again.
Matthew 6:1-6 (NRSV)
Concerning Almsgiving
6 “Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven.
2 “So whenever you give alms, do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, so that they may be praised by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. 3 But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, 4 so that your alms may be done in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.
Concerning Prayer
5 “And whenever you pray, do not be like the hypocrites; for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, so that they may be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. 6 But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.
Homily: A Projected Image
Ash Wednesday is a pretty weird holiday. In preparation for the most joyous day in the Christian year, we’ve got a day of mourning and repentance and a season of fasting. We do this ritual tonight with ashes on our foreheads that alludes to our Baptism and to our death all at once. And then we come to this weird piece of Scripture tonight talking about all the wrong ways to do all the right things. So, what’s the deal?
A few years ago, I played in the praise band for the contemporary worship service at First Baptist. And a group of us in the band began a young adult discussion group. We would meet after the service and go out to eat and talk about something different every week, sometimes the topic of the service we’d just left, or something controversial in the news about the political or religious world around us.
And this one Sunday night, sometime during the summer, about as far away from Ash Wednesday as you can get in the calendar, Mason Smith, the pastor at the time, did a really meaningful service of Imposition of Ashes. It wasn’t Ash Wednesday, but it went with what he was teaching that night. And after the service, our group met and decided we were going to go to Applebee’s that night for our discussion. My friend Adam said he was going to stop at home for a minute and he would meet us there, so the rest of us went ahead to the restaurant.
It was past dinnertime on a Sunday night and football season hadn’t started yet, so the place wasn’t very busy when we walked in. And our hostess had some time to talk to us and to notice the crosses, so after she’d gone through asking how many were in our party and seating us, she stayed at the table for a moment to ask about the funny marks on our faces. We were all actually a little embarrassed and self-conscious, which is ironic considering how many future missionaries and church staff were in that group. But we were self-conscious. We had put on those crosses as part of a deeply personal worship experience and had left them on out of nothing more than forgetting we were headed out in public. We weren’t asking for any attention with them, we just hadn’t realized we were inviting it.
But once the surprise wore off, it became a chance to talk with her, and then our waiter, and then even the cook who came out to see what was going on. It became this missional opportunity in which that they were eager to participate because they realized we weren’t trying to be obnoxious about our faith, we were just trying to live it out.
The most memorable part of the evening was when Adam, who had told us he’d meet us there, finally showed up. We’d expected a call to ask where in the building we were. But he just appeared at our table. Another of our group said to him, “Oh, you found us!” to which he replied “Are you kidding? I walked in with this cross on my forehead and the hostess just said to me ‘Your friends are in the back.’” Our discussion topic that night became “Wouldn’t it be great if our faith was that visible all the time?”
And yes, yes it would. If that’s what is really visible. Our faith, our love for God, what’s in our hearts. Because that’s what Jesus is getting into in our passage from Matthew. Not the rules for what we’re doing. But the “why?”. We’re not told “Don’t practice your righteousness in front of others.” We’re told “Be careful not to practice your righteousness in front of others to be seen by them.”
Ash Wednesday is all about the why. The symbols matter. The service matters. Our participation matters. But our hearts matter more. This past weekend I had the opportunity to go on a ski trip with 7 other adults and 30 youth from our congregation and from Christ Episcopal Church. Now our youth for the most part have spent at least a year and a half with me. They know me, they get my sense of humor; they understand my expectations for them. Some of the kids from the other group spent the weekend still trying to figure me out.
After snowboarding all day Saturday and leading vespers Saturday night, I was in my bed pretty early reading and watching movies on my iPad just waiting for “lights out” to roll around at 11:00. At about 10:55 I got up to walk out to the living room to give the boys in my house a head’s-up that they needed to be in their rooms in just a few minutes. They were watching ESPN and listening to music at a pretty low volume, which was fine.
As I came down the short hallway, one of the boys from the other group (who shall remain nameless) heard me coming and he scurried across the couch and hit the “pause” button on his iPod. And so the room was now really quiet and the boys were staring up at me expectantly. I knew he hadn’t been afraid the volume of the speakers or the TV would wake me up, so I correctly guessed that he was worried about the content of the music he’d just turned off. So I gave him a couple of heartbeats to freak out, and then I asked him, “Are you worried you’re going to offend me?” And he looked up me with these wide eyes and said, “…yes.”
I appreciated his awareness that his choice of music was not necessarily appropriate. I would have been prouder of him if he’d just not been listening to it in the first place. But I also wasn’t going to pour out wrath and judgment on this student who was both repentant, and otherwise functioning completely within my will for him.
Sometimes we just need to get busted like that. We need to realize that the image we’re projecting isn’t the one we want, or what God wants of us. We should be reminded that our hearts and our actions should match.
The other scripture for Ash Wednesday is from Joel chapter 2. It says 12“Even now,” declares the LORD, “return to me with all your heart, with fasting and weeping and mourning.” 13Rend your heart and not your garments. Return to the LORD your God, for he is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and abounding in love, and he relents from sending calamity.
Rend your heart and not your garments. Because as we return to God with fasting and weeping and mourning, it is the sincerity of our actions that He sees and values.
We are a sinful and broken people. And in repentance tonight we are here tonight to recognize it; to put on ashes, a symbol of death and mourning. But we put them on in the form of the cross, a symbol of Christ’s defeat of death.
You probably won’t get this entire blessing as you come forward this evening, because it’s a mouthful when there’s a whole line of people. But in the traditional words of the Ash Wednesday service, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return. Repent, and believe the Gospel.”
Amen.