Theology 7372, Fall 2009

“Mother’s First Love”, Mother Theresa’s Home for the Dying and Destitute

Kolkata is a mess of contradictions. For instance – Kalighat. Kalighat is the temple to the goddess Kali, who is the manifestation of the destructive power of the god Shiva. Shiva is the creator of the universe, but his dark side and the side that can destroy all things is called Kali. I find it interesting that the destructive force is feminine – but that’s neither here nor there. Anyway, the Kalighat temple is insanity. It’s the only temple that still accepts human sacrifice as a way to appease the diety and the best way I can describe the temple is that it’s a circus of color and prayer and insense. However, right next to it – literally sharing a wall – is Mother Theresa’s Home for the Dying. Talk about juxtapositions. The home is a sanctuary for people. There is only limited medical care – if you are a patient there, you are terminal and there is no hope. And yet, as I stood in front of it that day, I felt nothing but hope. In the midst of the worship place to the goddess of destruction, a small woman stood up and said ‘no’. She said ‘no’ to the idea that humanity is simply playthings of the gods and that people who are dying are worth being discarded. She said no to the cycle of understanding that if you are poor, you deserve it.

She chose yes to hope and to grace and to dignity. She chose yes to believing that loving one person may not change the known universe, but that it makes a difference to that person. In the midst of overwhelming sadness, chaos and destruction, she choose yes to love. I cannot fathom that and yet know I must make the same decision. I must chose yes to hope and to love. I must.

everywhere a misionaries of charity house is, this statue will be too. mother saw her job as quenching the thirst of Jesus and her sisters do as well.

Do you have seasons where you feel overwhelmed by the world? Moments where the stack of sadness in front of you completely obstructs the promise of hope? Today is one of those days for me. That stack of sadness is full of both specifics and generals but they all add up to cloud the hope and I find myself exhausted by it all. I read this quote this morning and wanted to share it. I’m going to embrace the divine chaos, breathe deeply and enjoy the ride. But embracing and breathing today also requires grieving. So I am leaning into that grief this afternoon – for families torn apart by conflict beyond their control, for cultures at war with themselves, for children who will never know safety and for women who will never chose their own paths.

But does enjoying the ride mean ignoring the brokenness? Does full participation in humanity require holding both sides of the spectrum in tension? To fully drink of joy, doesn’t it also require sitting in the sorrow and drinking deep of that as well? I think so. Especially because most of the people with whom we endeavor to do life with live lives full of each – deep sorrow, unspeakable joy and every emotion in between. Our placated answers simply will not suffice. To truly live requires grace, perseverance and a willingness to live in mess.

There’s a sister quote to this one, from Hunter S. Thompson, that says, “Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body,but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming — WOW– What a Ride!” I thought about that quote a lot when I was in India: what would it look like for me to love so deeply that I died thoroughly used up?

Lots of questions today, friends, and few answers. I’m in the process of crafting a few other posts around this topic, so keep your eyes peeled. I look forward to feedback and conversation.

scenery shot from the bus window

Our time in Hyderabad was spent as guests of our dear friends Sagar and Kaliani as they became our guide’s for the wedding of Sagar’s brother, Vijay. We kicked off the time with shopping for sarees, kurtas and shalwars (traditional Indian clothing items), had the chance to go to a dedication of an indigenous church, and got to enjoy all of the trappings of a wedding weekend (including purchasing bangles, which made the other girls beside themselves with joy). One tradition that we got to enjoy was the groom preparation ceremony. After a time of blessings offered and prayers given, the ceremony devolved into a festive party, celebrating Vijay and his new life. Of course, this is India, so celebrating involved a massive dance party (Bollywood style!) and the tradition of covering the groom with paint. And maybe also covering all the guests in paint.

The wedding itself was so much fun to be a part of. I was honored that we were invited and included the way we were. All told, the time in Hyderabad was one for the memory books – I got to wear a saree, got henna on my hands, took fancy photos with the team and got caught up in the joy that swirled all around me.

Another fantastic highlight of the trip was the afternoon we got to spend having tea and conversation in Sagar and Kaliani’s home. I had the privilege of knowing Sagar when he was at Truett and it was fantastic to see his life in India and how he has carved out life for himself since leaving. It was an honor to have them share their souls with us for that time.

Stay tuned for the next installment: iPhones and camels: juxtaposition in jaipur

Just to clarify. These signs were everywhere in Hyderabad.

Our first order of business was the purchase of appropriate clothing. While the guys quickly picked out their wedding kurtas, the girls got swept upstairs to begin with our daily wear – shalwar kameezes. We then headed downstairs to be fitted for our wedding sarees. Shout-out to the men, who waited paitently during that four-hour shopping process.

The saree store. INSANE.

Getting henna done for the wedding!

Vijay’s preparation ceremony – getting covered in curry paint

CJ and Katie cannot believe they have their faces covered.

Mal struggles to take photos with her face painted

With Michael in our wedding wear!

Kari and I in our sarees

Mal and I react to how ridiculous our lives are at that moment

Stroope and the girls in our wedding finest

Depending on who you ask, April-September in Northern Ireland is referred to as “The Marching Season,” “The Paramilitary Party Season,” or, by the most cynical of my friends, “The Silly Season.” The time surrounding July 12 is the height of sectarian activity, with the night before marked by bonfires in loyalist neighborhoods throughout the nation. “The July 12th Fortnight” is an unofficial holiday time – with many businesses on ‘vacation’ and families leave the country. For an explanation, check my blog entry from 2006. This photo was taken at the Annandale Embankment in East Belfast on July 11, 2006.

I woke up yesterday and knew immediately that it was July 11th. I don’t know how I still move in these emotional rhythms, but I do. I know that gatherings would be happening all day and long into the night, celebrating a reality that grieves me. I pride myself on being respectful of people and their opinions, beliefs and practices – but I will admit to having a hard time swallowing some of the traditions surrounding the 12th. It feels divisive and damaging and driven by hatred. I remember sitting on the hill and feeling the heat of the bonfire envelop me as I wondered how I would be celebrating this if I was a native.

Most of my friends shun the 12th, leaving the country for vacation – or at the very least, baracading themselves in their house on the night of the 11th and rolling their eyes at the activities of a minority of their fellow countrymen. Because it is a minority, I promise. But I had students who clung to these traditions for their identity. They understood themselves as part of this community and this is how this community carves itself out. What’s the line between valid expression and damaging division?

I’m not ashamed to say this piece of the culture grieves me. Celebration of difference as a ranking system grieves me anywhere, but even more in this country that has captured my soul. So, in light of all of that, I am sending thoughts and prayers of peace, wellness and calm to that wee isle today and I’d invite you to do the same.

Many of you have asked many wonderful questions about my time in India and I thank you for your comments and emails as I traveled. I’m glad the follow-along-blog was a good idea! In light of your questions and the fact that I have a 15 page reflection paper looming on my “to-do” list, I thought I’d start the process on here. I plan on doing a city-by-city general summary of what happened and some thoughts.

So, first off, PASADENA!

After the first few states of our month-of-excessive-time-spent-in-airports, we made it to LA and got a first-class introduction to Los Angeles Traffic. It’s okay, though, because along the way we got to meet Creepy Wall Jesus (who doesn’t know what to do with his hands) and got a classic reaction from Stroope to some LA fashions. After sitting on Broadway for the longest time, we made it out to Pasadena to stay at William Carey International University. Throwing our bags into our rooms and quickly freshening up, we made our way to the house of our hosts for an excellent evening of conversations and questions. This evening is also where the blog title comes from, as Stroope made us introduce ourselves in alliterated form. So, for example, I was “charismatic Kristen.”

The next day was a full one. After a morning at church (which I have thoughts on), we headed out to Malibu. We met some students and had some time at the Malibu Hindu Temple – which is the second largest in the United States – and had our true first introduction to Hinduism. I plan on blogging about the monster known as Hinduism at a later date – but know that it both makes complete sense and no sense at all. The temple was a great introduction to some of what happened over the next month.

Then we headed out to the beach (drove past Pepperdine and felt horrible for Ken Starr and his change of scenery) and hiked down to Point Dume beach for conversations and bonding with some of the students who attend Chaiwalla at USC.  Then the day was topped off with time at the Glenn’s house for a LOST finale party. For the record – I am pretty annoyed at the finale. I am open to being less annoyed once they release the whole thing on DVD and I get a chance to re-watch everything, but right now? NOT COOL.

Our last day in Pasadena was a fairly academic day – so, of course, I loved it. We chatted with Varun Soni, the Dean of Religious Life at USC, who is also the first Hindu person to serve in such a position in the United States. He was gracious with his time and gave some valuable perspective on the system we were about to swim in. The afternoon was spent with H.L. Richards, who is a preemminent scholar on the interaction between Hinduism and Christianity. Also a valuable perspective.

As we boarded the flight that evening to Hong Kong, I had many thoughts swimming around my head. There was a lot of conversation about community and what community could look like. What does ‘doing life’ with Indian students living in the United States look like? A completely communal culture intersecting with a completely individual one – what boundaries need to die for those two to do well together?

Also – we spent a lot of time before we left studying how Hinduism and Christianity intersect in India… but this was the first time it occurred to me that they would intersect differently in America. How does folk Hinduism interact with folk Christianity?

I was honored and humbled by the people who opened their lives to us for those few days – both our hosts and the Chaiwalla students who were willing to be grilled mercilessly – and how I hoped to be able to be that for others. We talked about what makes a job ‘enough’ and how we judge ourselves against our calling. We talked about balancing sabbath with productivity and how leaning into questions is really the only way to survive life.

I remember feeling really antsy as we spent time in LA – ready to “start the journey” and get the trip underway. Now, as I reflect back, I realize that many of the questions I asked throughout the entire trip were responding to conversations over this period of time.

next up: walks of death to noddle shops (or: our time in hong kong)

June 1 – 23 was spent in various cities in India. Head here for the bullet point summary of the most ridiculous trip I have or probably will ever take.

24 : Because my parents surprised us at the airport, Mike and I got to show them India pictures and process it with them in person instead of via technology. So very awesome. There was also American food and time with the Waco favorites.

25 : Watched World Cup games with parents and siblings and continued to emotionally detox from India.

26 : Last full day with the parents until August. I’m learning as I get older that loving spending time with a functional family isn’t weakness and that we should cling to healthy community wherever we find it.

27 : Waco favorites and I drove to Dallas to see Wicked – otherwise known as “The Musical That Speaks to My Soul on Deep and Profound Levels”.

28 : Woke up feeling like I had been hit by a truck, so it was a low key day. Doctor’s appointments – as per usual. Then lunch with a life friend and soul giving conversations with my sister.

29 : Most of the day was spent doing my traditional post-trip ritual of cleaning out my DVR and drinking as much coffee as I can.

30 : Onion reunion part one and So You Think You Can Dance. Excellent.

1. We all had a bit of a day… so Magic China was ordered for dinner and we found solace in Supernatural

2. Jo, Mike, Sarah and I journeyed to Round Rock and to REI so that Mike and I could purchase our backpacks for India! As we sat in our favorite Indian restaurant directly after, the trip became real in a way it hadn’t prior to that moment.

3. Made family dinner (cajun chicken and marshmallow fudge) and watched The Godfather – mostly because we’re going to Sicily next summer but also because I was being judged for never having watched it

4. Happy Resurrection Day! Celebrated by trucking down to San Antonio to see the Lady Bears play valiantly against UCONN and we are so very excited for next season.

5. Attempted to be productive in the midst of feeling as though I had been hit by a truck. Evidently, 26 is too old to drive to San Antonio and back in one day and not feel like I’d rather die than do it again. (totally worth it, though. amazing game.)

6. The Onion celebrated Easter in our own way – full of questions, tension, mourning and hope. I love my church.

7. I am not ashamed to say the highlight of my day was watching the Glee cast on Oprah and reveling in the hope of the new episodes.

8. TOMS Day Without Shoes! Shopping in Target shoeless is an interesting experience. I recommend it.

9. After months and months of anticipation, we finally all sat down as a team and got orientated for our trip to India! After an excellent dinner, we launched into a question and answer session and began the joke list. This is going to be a good trip.

10. Started the morning having the privilege of speaking about Rwanda to some Baylor students who are preparing to travel there. Ended the day with Date Night and continued to be thankful for comedy

11. Spent most of the day sequestered at Mike and Sarah’s kitchen table, scribbling out a paper on Northern Irish Christianity in the hopes of turning it in a few weeks from now.

12. How I Met Your Mother was really disappointing. That emotion is the most significant thing that happened that day.

13. Glee came back! We had a great conversation at the Onion and LOST was excellent as well – but I love Glee. It just brings me so much joy.

14. Up significantly too early for class, as I always feel I am when the classes start at 8am. Other exciting thing that happened was that we rescued a dog! Brian now owns a German Shepherd – Golden Retriever mix named Utley – after our favorite Phillie.

15. Productivity day! Finished a paper, read a ton, decided on a topic for another paper… and ate two meals at Panera I was there that long.

16. Made a Captain Planet joke in class and got to eat breakfast with some fellow India travelers.

17. Finished editing a paper to turn in for publication and finished writing a paper for class. Spent the rest of the day reading and sipping tea.

18. Sat at Barnes and Noble for a few hours in the hopes that the Focus Fox would be hiding there. He was not.

19. As a theme in April – I read and attempted to write papers.

20. Onion, Lost, Glee: The Madonna Episode.

21. Turned in my paper on the history of Christianity of Northern Ireland for Story and felt like I was handing over half my soul to be graded.

22. I know I talk about Supernatural a lot. But it was FANTASTIC. Gods of various cultures met to fight the apocalypse. Amazing.

23. Ran errands with Sarah and purchase Avatar. Also bought my final round of clothes for the trip to India. V. exciting.

24. My friends were fantastic. That’s the most important thing that happened.

25. Exhausting day of attempts at productivity – little success and many failures. Finished the day watching The Pacific.

26. Worked on papers and had a brilliantly surprising lunch with the SRT staff to celebrate Jason’s birthday.

27. Finished the Religion & Worldview paper and enjoyed a fantastic episode of Glee.

28. Turned in my Religion & Worldview paper, then got my Story paper back and was honored by the comments made and grade given. Finished up the Cross-Cultural paper and watched Mr. Darcy stride across the field as a reward.

29. Turned in my Cross-Cultural paper on linguistic relativity and then sat and stared at the wall for a solid twenty minutes, just to revel. Then we caught a stupid chick flick, grabbed dinner and settled in for Supernatural and Bones.

30. Last day of class for the semester! While I recognize I have a lengthy “to-do” list, the afternoon was spent resting in a version of done-ness.

Annalena Tonelli was a Italian Roman Catholic who left her homeland, career and family in 1969 to move to Somalia to work with nomadic people groups there. During her career, she founded hospitals – so well, in fact, that she was recognized by the WHO as a “TB Center of Excellence” for her work against the disease – and schools. She advocated for the deaf, orphaned and lame. Referred to by many who knew her as the “Mother Theresa of Somalia”, Annalena worked tirelessly until her untimely death in 2005.

What struck me as I read her story was her identification as a Somali. The people she served were not projects, they were her people. She found a tribe to do life among and spent her life serving them the best she knew how. The people she worked with were deeply Muslim and she faced opposition at times, but mostly, she forged family. Upon her death, one of the Imams she worked closely with told a reporter from the Guardian that, “although Annalena was a Christian, Allah loves her and her work.” They called her a gift from Allah and grieved her passing deeply.

Dana Robert – in her book Christian Mission: How Christianity Became a World Religion – says about her, “The deeper lesson of Annalena Tonelli’s death was that her personal relationship with the Somali people she loved, forged over a lifetime of service, was ultimately stronger than the historic tension between Muslim and Christians, or Africans and Europeans.” (p117)

We talked in class this week about approaching “the other”. I made the point that it must be done in love. Without love and respect, approaching anyone is useless and futile. We must devote ourselves to humanity in ways that affirm it and care for it. Annalena is someone I draw hope from. Hope that simply loving people and figuring out – every single day – how to love the person in front of you best leads to greater things than we could ever imagine. She loved the nomadic Muslim people she found herself among and they loved her. Community was formed in the midst of diversity and people’s lives were changed.

In Cross-Cultural class this week, we read an excellent article by Henry Smith regarding ancestor practices in Hong Kong. He raises many questions about how ancestor worship is being handled among the church of H.K and how perhaps those perceptions should change. The crux of the conversation circles the balance between tradition, culture and movement in new directions. Smith talks about the need for an “imaginative faith” that serves the “companionship of mutual services to society”.

There are many points to be made from this article, but the one I’d like to focus on is his point that healthy focus on ancestors can help people fulfill the biblical commandment of honoring parents. In the West, we have often let kinship ties die unnecessarily in favor of other ties and bonds. The idea of honoring parents and ancestors is one that we find antiquated, or just a lesson for unruly children. If we could incorporate this idea – connection to those that have gone before us – perhaps we would have deeper senses of community and connectedness.

We often have this misguided idea that following faith means abandoning your entire existing life. While at times that may be necessary, more often than not, it isn’t. A question that we raise in class is around whether true conversion – to any faith system – can happen without community. If you are converted outside the context of your community, will your faith ever be truly contextualized to your culture? Or will you abandon your culture for the one you’re entering into? What is that balance? If we ask people from deeply familial cultures to convert away from their family – how is that respecting their personhood and helping them become the best versions of themselves?

Anyway, these are just questions I throw out into the void. If I ever arrive at answers, I’ll let you know.

I spent a lot of my late adolescence avoiding my specific cultural heritage. I didn’t want to claim Bucks County or Yardley – finding them to be confining and lame. However, as I move further away from those roots, I have begun to become more comfortable with how my homeland has shaped my identity. My concepts of time, relationships and some other key aspects were just as shaped by the cultural soup I swam in as the family I grew up in. In light of that, I often refer to the fact that living in Waco has been more cross-cultural for me than my trips to Sub-Saharan Africa. Mostly, this comment is made in jest. Sometimes, however, there is more truth. Living within the greater American culture and yet in a subculture that is often still foreign and frustrating to me is something that exhausts me. I increasingly find that solitude and rest can be found in my homeland. Life still makes more sense to me in the Northeast than it does some other places.

The picture above is Lake Afton in downtown Yardley Borough. Still one of my favorite places in the country, I got to do a lot of work sitting by its banks last spring and it always brought focus and peace. In my month of intentionally leaning into hope, I am attempting to reclaim belonging in places where I don’t. To find ways to claim ‘home’ in places foreign and frustrating.

However, it is important for me to remember that home is wherever my story began and continues to begin. The places where I find home have shaped me in ways I cannot begin to describe. Foreign and frustrating places have as well, but ‘home’ is just a different category. The people in which I find ‘home’ are irreplaceable in my story and in how they have helped me become more of who I can potentially be.

So, today, I choose to lean in to the truth that ‘home’ is wherever my story sits, in whatever chapter I currently live in.