I Found My Mission

in

Meredith Johnson

YAGM Volunteer - Uruguay - 2006-2007

Closing Thoughts

(1) Personal and Spiritual Growth

During my last few months in Uruguay I finally figured out how to articulate a feeling that had been growing in me throughout my time there: I realized that the God I felt in Uruguay was a much harder, poorer, more uncomfortable God than the one I knew at home. I have always loved and worshipped a creative, artistic, joyful, poetic God. I was used to finding God on mountains and in orchestra concerts.
But in Uruguay, I learned to find God in horse-drawn carts and down unpaved roads. I met the God of noodles-for lunch-every-day, the God of broken buses, the God of my-mother-doesn't-live-with-us anymore and I'm-afraid-to-be-alone-with-my-father-because-he-hits-me and Do-you-have-a-winter-coat-to-give-me.
At times, it was hard to love that God. I'm still figuring out how to reconcile my own ethereal spirituality with the gritty, down-to-earth work that lives in the heart of the Church. But, like I said in my first newsletter, I try to see Uruguay as a river of painted birds, and painted birds, being magical, show up in the strangest places. If it was ever hard to find spirituality or beauty in the Barrio Borro, it was not for a lack of spirituality, just my own inability to find it.
As the poet Rainer Maria Rilke once said, "If your everyday life seems poor, don't blame it; blame yourself; admit to yourself that you are not enough of a poet to call forth its riches; because for the creator there is not poverty and no poor, indifferent place."
Finally, I wanted to share this passage from a beautiful poem called "Un Padrenuestro Latinoamericano," by Mario Benedetti ("A Latin American Lord's Prayer"). Benedetti is one of Uruguay's most respected poets, and although I couldn't find a date for this poem, I'm pretty sure he wrote it during the dictatorship from 1973-1984.
I think "Un Padrenuestro Latinoamericano" captures the spirit of social justice that is so alive in the Christianity I encountered in Uruguay.
"...claro no estoy seguro si me gusta el estilo
que tu voluntad elige para hacerse
lo digo con irreverencia y gratitud
dos emblemas que pronto serán la misma cosa
lo digo sobre todo pensando en el pan nuestro
de cada dia y de cada pedacito de dia
ayer nos lo quitaste
dánosle hoy
o al menos el derecho de darnos nuestro pan
no sólo el que era símbolo de Algo
sino el de miga y cáscara
el pan nuestro..."
That translates (very roughly) as,
..."I do not know if I like the way in which your will is done I say this with irreverence and thanks two emotions that will soon become the same one I say this thinking of our daily bread and every little moment's bread yesterday you took it from us give it to us today or at the very least give us the right to give ourselves our daily bread not just the bread that was a symbol of Something but that of crumbs and husks our daily bread..."

(2) Awareness of Global Issues

I wrote about this in my journal many times, and when the groups from Bethlehem and Good Shepherd came to Argentina, I shared the following passage from my journal with them:
"I've been trying to figure out why it bothers me to see North Americans outside of North America. Even when they're not doing anything wrong, there's a part of me that can't help cringing whenever I see or hear them in Ciudad Vieja or walking along 18 de Julio. I think it's because in the grand scheme of things, North Americans are like people leaving a party in a brightly lit house in the middle of the night. They walk out into the street calling to each other and laughing and slamming their car doors without ever stopping to think that there are other people sleeping or nursing children in the small, dark houses down the block. And yet, at the same time, how can you blame them? From inside such a bright house, they couldn't see out the windows even if they tried."
I could make a whole list of specific issues I've learned about in Uruguay, and that list would include everything from unemployment problems in Uruguay to the aftermath of the dictatorship to issues surrounding health care, education, and trade with the U.S. But I think one of my most important realizations has to do with Americans and the way we interact with the rest of the world. I finished my time in Uruguay feeling both forgiving and reproachful of my fellow Americans and myself. Being able to leave the metaphorical "bright house" of the U.S., I realized just how hard it is to be aware of global issues in the U.S., how biased our media is, how difficult it is to find real news, etc. And so I felt compassion for myself and my countrypeople, and I forgave us, a little, for our ignorance. But I also held us responsible: if the house is so bright that we can't see out the windows, shouldn't we dim the lights and turn down the music?  If we can't even see out our own windows, when is it time to break the old windows and install new ones?

(3) Reflections about leadership

In his travel journal "Gracias," Henri Nouwen writes, "True prayer always includes becoming poor." In Uruguay, I felt the same about the models of leadership I witnessed. Working with Pastora Wilma and Milton and many other dedicated social workers, teachers, and laypeople, I was blown away by how radical their approach to leadership seemed. It was all horizontal, all based on mutual conversations and decisions and commitments. And, being horizontal, even the "boss" figures were working way down on the ground. I remember being at Pastora Wilma's house one day when the doorbell rang and a homeless man asked her for food. She told me it was the 15th time someone had come to her house begging that day, and she had given food or winter clothes to each of them.
At times I felt scared or guilty when I saw Pastora Wilma and Milton's commitment to the poor. I got scared by some of the people who came to Pastora Wilma's front door, especially one whom we knew was violent. And I felt guilty for not immediately loving them or always wanting to help. I remember walking down the street in the dark with Pastora Wilma one night and passing a woman with crazy eyes wrapped up in a blanket. "That poor woman," she said, just as I was thinking, "I want to go home."
But I was continually challenged and inspired and renewed by the projects I helped out in, too. I found a community of people in Montevideo who are all committed to the same cause, although they approach it from many different angles (pastors, teachers, doctors, social workers, artists, etc). As the year progressed I came to know many of the people who waited at the bus stop with me-they were social workers and teachers who were headed to different projects in the Barrio Borro, and I felt a great sense of solidarity when we discussed our program activities and the challenges of our daily work. I especially loved getting on the bus and realizing that I knew half the people already on it, because they were fellow teachers/social workers or residents of the Barrio. I would walk down the aisle greeting practically every other person with a kiss, as is customary in Uruguay.
The following passage is a stanza from one of Benedetti's most famous poems, "Te Quiero" ("I Love You"). It's about the solidarity of loving someone not only for who he or she is, but for the work (s)he does and what s(he) stands for. A lot of young, liberal Uruguayos read it at their weddings. I especially love the lines, "Somos mucho mas que dos," i.e. "We are so much more than two," because it makes me think of all the volunteers and program coordinators in the YAGM program, not to mention our local co- workers, who are like an army of peace deployed in groups of one or two to different parts of the world.
"Si te quiero es porque sos
mi amor mi cómplice y todo
y en la calle codo a codo
somos mucho más que dos"
"If I love you it is because you are
my love, my accomplice, my everything
and in the street elbow to elbow
we are so much more than two"
The poem also makes me think of the dictatorship, and all the young people who were killed or "disappeared."  I imagine them as ghosts or spirits walking in solidarity with the people who survive and are fighting for the causes they died for.

(4) Reflections about the Role of Churches in Society

This has a lot to do with (1), so I won't write too much more here. But, as I said in other newsletters, I was always impressed by Pastora Wilma's boundary-less sense of Church. I learned to see the Church not as a building or even an institution, but as a force of energy driven by people with a great vision and even greater love.

(5) New Theological and Biblical Approaches

I'm not a theology student, and I don't know the Bible as well as many of my fellow volunteers. I'm as Biblically literate as anyone who was confirmed 9 years ago and has taken only a few formal religion classes since then. But I do love learning about theology, and one of the best surprises of my year in Uruguay was having the opportunity to attend lectures and meetings with ministers from the IELU (Iglesias Evangelicas Luteranas Unidas, the Lutheran Church body with which the ELCA has a relationship). The following are direct quotes from Lisandro Orlov, an Argentine pastor who does amazing work with AIDS patients in Buenos Aires. I took these notes during our orientation a year ago and they provided a theological framework for understanding my year of service. I know they're in a basic form, but they're too powerful and eloquent not to share.
  • "Every time we draw a line, Jesus is on the other side."
  • "The Bible is a book about grace, not morals. Morals and values are not sacred or eternal. They exist as long as a society upholds them; they come and go with time and place. The only thing that's eternal, from a Lutheran perspective, is the kingdom of God."
  • "I don't believe in the Bible. I believe in God, Christ, the Church, and the community of saints. But I don't believe in the Bible. The Bible is not the fourth member of the trinity...we need to separate the work of God from the words of humans."
  • "The Bible is a history of salvation. It's text that becomes the word of God when it's read together."
  • "The Church needs to be converted by the world. What is outside of the Church must be brought into the Church."
  • "Justice and the dignity of people-these are the Gospel. A Muslim can preach of these things without saying the world, 'Gospel.'"
  • "We need to return to the spirit of the Reformation, especially at this critical, historical moment."
‹ Response to Middle East ViolenceupLatest Message from Meredith ›