Religious Lingo

There is something very small that almost every person has that can do a world of harm or of good. Something that many of us take for granted until we experience possible inhibitions to the tiny apparatus. The tongue--speech specifically--is this something which often glibly forms sounds foreign to our hearts. Experiencing the inhibitions that come with trying to use the tongue in other languages, I have noticed two manners of misuse of the tongue--examples when the words "suena mal" because behind them is an empty heart.

Spanish, in particular here in Spain, is a language rich in religious sentiment. Pass any time here and the words, "si Dios quiere" will fall on the ears. Less common, "Dios sólo sabe" can also be heard. What is amazing is that either obviously religious phrase can be uttered sincerely by the most hardened athiest. The will, the knowledge of God are farthest from their minds but the saying remains.

On the other hand you have highly religious, Bible-thumping, tract-pushing, Edwards-style people who claim to know God and instead utter phrases like, "Dios te bendiga". Uttering every jot and tittle correctly, they leave no room for argument yet the heart of the hearer feels oppression rather than love. Oozing criticism combined with exasperated sarcasm, to my quenched spirit the words sound false.

James talks at length (c. 3) on the tongue and its powerful untameability--"no one can tame the tongue" (v. 8). I often hear talks on how words issue from the heart, and so they do, but to address these two cases it is a different matter altogether: what is coming out of the mouth is not what is in the heart, as is evidenced (and here's the clincher) by other words and actions. "But if you have bitter jealousy and selfish ambition in your heart, do not be arrogant [i.e., say otherwise] and so lie against the truth" (v. 14).

A life wholely given over to the Lover of my Soul should "suena bien" in word, deed--every aspect. Someone once said to a Creyente I know (after she had testified), "I respect you because you're different. When you say those words I know you really mean it and you really live it." In a world with so many arguments over the "form" of Christianity, as well as the continual struggle with what is true Christian lingo (reformed? evangelical? charismatic? emerging? postmodern?) what I long to see is a people arise--true creyentes--with passion for One.

Pero yo siempre estoy contigo.
Pués Tú me sostienes de tu mano derecha.
Me guías con tu consejo,
y más tarde me acogerás en gloria.
¿A quién tengo en el cielo sino a Ti?
Si estoy contigo, ya nada quiero en la tierra.
Podrían desfallecer mi cuerpo y mi espíritu,
pero Dios fortalece mi corazon;
Él es mi herencia eterna. (salmo 73.23-26)

Amen. ¡Venga pronto, Jesucristo!

¡sigue!

the days begin to fill...church meetings, discussing various issues, spending time with new acquaintances, and especially checking my email to keep in touch with old friends. starting to find a bit of the rhythm...but still looking for opportunities to share hope with the people i am meeting. often see my students on the streets and sometimes stop to chat. still struggling with them not shutting up in class...not sure i will ever win that battle (as the other teachers seem to have just as much trouble). learning to accept the besos...although it stretches my pacnw upbringing. thinking this week of the wonderful family gatherings i will be missing...and missing friends and family as i try to communicate to my classes the importance of thanksgiving (a holiday i have always enjoyed as it means a lot less stress than christmas, and a lot of good food). keeping on keeping on. enjoying a book called _watching the english_ by kate fox on the cultural practices of the english. want to share this poem which hopefully captures a bit of life here in vélez.

vélez

a crowded bar
a football game
streets marked by dogs
but with no name

men on a walk
siesta time
ignoring lights
is not a crime

the bells for mass
for all to hear
but saints are dead—
the gods they fear

an empty pool
a pesky fly
the noisy cars
a baby’s cry

this lazy sun
has taken life
and lulled to sleep
the will to fight

the white-washed walls
like open graves
surround the lives
of those unsaved

inertia kills
with apathy
the hearts of those
who cannot see

but He who vowed
will faithful be
and call the few
eternally

an interesting occurance

something happened the day before yesterday that continues to puzzle me. i was on my way to lunch at my friends´house at about 1.30 and as i was walking on the sidewalk a car was driving very slowly in the opposite direction. almost as if it were a slow-motion scene from a movie, the passenger in the car (there were about 3 or 4 20ish guys) took a long drink of water and spit it at my feet. also as if in slow motion i swept my right foot up but still was splashed. the car continued on its way and i said (incredulous, it was the only thing that i could think to say) <> and continued. no raucous laughter at a good joke greeted my ears, which makes it all the more strange. everyone here that i have told about the story can´t think of any cultural reason and i am left with only two thoughts:
1. they were thinking, <>, as immigration is a sore issue in parts of spain
2. they were wasted/high/drugged, as the part of town they were coming from is a drug center.

non sequitur

http://www.despair.com/

always good for a laugh

for the small things...

"So here's what I want you to do, God helping you: Take your everyday, ordinary life—your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life—and place it before God as an offering. Embracing what God does for you is the best thing you can do for him." (Romans 12.1, The Message)

thanks:
a letter from a friend
a free bank account
a free trip to see museums in Málaga
getting my NIE without too much trouble
emails from friends
running partners
good café
a rainy day reminiscent of Oregon
a rescued puppy

prayer:
for struggling friends
for people with narrow minds w/r/t worship
for a city bound in dead religion and sin
for health
for vision

"The road must be trod, but it will be very hard………….. This quest may be attempted by the weak with as much hope as the strong. Yet such is oft the course of deeds that move the wheels of the world: small hands do them because they must, while the eyes of the great are elsewhere."
J. R.R. Tolkien _The Fellowship of the Ring_

a rollercoaster...

in her book, _the living_, annie dillon talks about people walking around on the surface of the earth, constantly slipping into the hereafter. rather than grab on to solid, stable objects like rocks and trees, they grab on to each other, and together slip into eternity.
for me, it is the days that keep slipping away as i feel often like the blindfolded passenger in a car destined for unknown places. i make plans with tenuous certainty, knowing that the minute a spaniard gets involved the likelihood of them suggesting something else and me saying, ¿ahora misma? and them responding ¡por supuesto! is great.
went this last weekend to ciudad real with the pastors of one of the churches. their seminary, SEFOVAN had a retreat and it was a blessing to be again with people my own age who worshipped.
the trip marked my first time outside of Andalucia, traveling into La Mancha, which many of you may recognize as the infamous fictitious home of Don Quixote. the countryside was indeed as i imagined it, along with plenty of molinas. the entire retreat was in Spanish, and i continue to expland my vocabulary. there were, however, two americans there and it was a welcome change to chat with them in English.
my days are not insanely busy, there is always time for siesta. it is finding time to be on the computer that is often the most difficult. the bell for the next class looks to ring soon so i must away. enjoy your fall weather as i know the leaves are turning and the frost haunting the morning in many places. here, i shall enjoy the sunshine and the mar.

¡vale!

the first day of school. yikes. i feel so nervous and i´m supposed to be the expert. first class, 13- and 14-year-olds. ate me alive. so much noise. just like my habitación with la mujer mayor, Doña Teresa. she is hard of hearing and so we yell all the time. but she is very kind and i am glad to have a place to lay my head. have been to the playa, put my feet in the sea for the first time. felt like a very warm day at cannon beach...but still cold. warmer than my ocean but not like hawaii. enjoying the people at the two iglesias that i attend, very kind, welcoming. still getting my feet under me but feeling a bit better.

first blush of velez...

the bus zips along the freeway, speeding me closer to my final destination: velez. along the way i see a rolling countryside with miles and miles of olive trees, followed by rolling brown hills with scrubby green trees. after an intermidable traffic jam (when the 4 lane goes to 1), around a corner the city of malaga spreads at my feet and in the distance the sea.
coming into velez i feel the warm sun with the cool sea breeze, less humidity than sevilla. expecting a tranquil town i find myself thrown into the once a year weekend royal feria, dedicated to a san miguel--some saint that no one really knows. en realidad, it is simply an excuse for fiesta. the city itself climbs into the hills, fleeing the endless blue of the sky and sea. the roads get narrow as they climb, winding to the castle seated high on the hill before the city ends and the country begins.
sunday i sit waiting for church to begin, watching the crowds walk to and fro. noticing at this relatively early hour of 10, the sidewalks are full of elderly gentlemen, ambling along chatting amiably. some use canes and all walk slowly, wearing casual dress shirts and slacks. dogs wander in and out of the walkers, some on leashes, many not.
i explore the town everyday, getting more and more acquainted with it's mostly unlabeled streets. many areas boast of progress, dozens of apartment complexes under construction.
underneath the protective shelter of the hilltop cerro san cristobal, i see a pobre caballito (little horse) tethered in dry brown grass. suddenly, he manages to pull his rope to allow himself to go off the hillside onto the sidewalk, finding lush bushes carefully cultivated. laughing, i watch as he helps himself to a nicer snack, until his master yells from several winding blocks away and he whinnies in response but neglects to obey and return to the dry hillside. still conditioned to notice horses from my summer's experience, i watch the magnificent parade of caballos down the street, amazed at seeing the carriage drawn by twelve burros!
overall, i find myself blessed already by my time in velez. the small evangelical churches (2) welcomed me with (as is tradition in spain) not open arms but kisses on the cheeks...a practice that will take some getting used to. the school visit today went exceptionally well, as they are eager to make use of my english knowledge and improve their school. many people have promised to keep a lookout for housing, and i am hoping something will turn up soon.
para sumir, Dios nos dice que (Ex. 3.9) y este es todo lo que necesito saber.

revisionist history in socialist spain...

this summer i heard a talk on revisionist history and today at the ruinas romanas, Italica, i saw an interesting bit in action. the guide, born and raised sevillano, regaled us on the wonderful culture that was ancient rome. such a tolerant, caring culture (he pointed out) that while there was a universal religion, the imperial cult, all other religions were allowed and encouraged. open thinking and tolerance made way for every other faith (he gushed). even the universal religion--the imperial cult again--was similar, well, to honoring the state. requirements related to this religion were (here he brought it home to the unsuspecting americans) just like saying the pledge of allegiance. no difference. so where does nero fit in? you might as well ask. i have no idea. perhaps those of the Way were merely political rebels, in this lavish view of rome. he also noted (as we surveyed the remains of a public bath) the marvellous attention the romans paid to hygiene, as well as personal fitness. go figure.

edificios...

Sevilla is home to the largest cathedral...floorspace in square meters, that is (at least the paper from Guinness in the cathedral said so). it is indeed large and impressive...although no Notre Dame. however, for any would-be adventurers, the nearby Reales Alcazares, residences for the royal family (should they ever decide to visit) is more impressive. the vast gardens, hidden away from the busy city by thick stone walls towering high above the sandy paths is a place of cool retreat. plus, it is gratis (free) with the student id card.
i enjoyed an illegal side trip in the garden; being the adventurous type i found a semi-hidden gate that was open into a basement passage that, unfortunately, lead nowhere but provided a few moments of excitement as i explored. it was also a nice escape into the cool from the hot sun.

ah, Sevilla

the city of Hemingway´s dreams. a million bars. narrow, confusing streets with careening cars too large for the passage. home to flamenco and bull-fighting. hot sun, late nights, cafes with people at every hour of the day (no one seems to work too hard, and everyone has time to sit around and drink).
there seems to be marble everywhere. the tabaco factory, now home to the university is completely coated in marble, inside and out, implying expensive taste yet beside the costly stone is crumbling decor and bathrooms missing toilet seats (becoming squatty potties).
in Spain, the common expression is ¨vale¨ which seems to fill for anything, including ¨are you ready¨ ¨good job¨ ¨hi¨ and other expressions that i have yet to learn. (more on this later)
starting last night at a common time of 22.30 (yes, that is late) andalucians gave a stunning flamenco performance complete with the haunting middle eastern sephardic guitar and singer. flamenco is an intense dance that radiates from the core or heart of the dancer. watching the hombre and mujer dance, their torsos never move, but their feet move so quickly you can hardly see them. twirling and spinning and tapping to the rhythm, not necessarily of the music (it seems to follow them rather than lead) but rather to the heartbeat within.
on another note, i am working on a phrase to describe my religion in this post-Christian nation. just as in a closed country, the word ¨Christian¨ is taboo, here it is meaningless in many ways. i dislike being related to the dead tradition that means nothing transforming. so any suggestions would be welcome. so far i am leaning towards either ¨follower of the Way¨ (discípula de la Via) or ¨believer¨ (una creyente).

beginnings...

it is hot in sevilla. the bricks from the yellow-hued sand reflect the sun´s rays, creating a convection oven as the sun bakes me from above. every hour the bells from the many churches...three close by within three blocks of my hotel...ring out the hours. intricately carved masoleums to a dead religion, the cathedrals are breathtaking in their architecture and chilling in their faith.
after a very long flight and finding no bag waiting at the end of it, i joined the other members of my program for a cocktail dinner, reminded very quickly that we were in spain as the drinks they served were not grape juice.
spent the entire day drinking information from a firehose, seeing the little streets with barely enough room for a car, let along the multitude of people and cars trying to pass through. on a visit to the plaza de toros i was struck with how much pain the toros endure for the mere entertainment value to the spectators. guess the dude ranch rubbed off on me more than i imagined.
looking to the big challenges next week: finding a place to stay, getting a checking account, getting my police certificate and just getting around. it´s a big adventure, but the pieces are growing...along with the Peace that is needed.

looking forward...

Seven weeks of the summer in Colorado are drawing to a close, with the halfway mark just a week away. Just last week I found out where I will be spending the next year (and the substance of this blog), in Velez-Malaga, Spain. The Pastis strip above is especially appropriate as I struggle to put up with country music, lots of dust, pain, etc. while dreaming of the sunny Mediterranean Coast.