January 29, 2005
Dear Friends,
God’s peace to you all! The following is a little bit about my life and the youth gathering…I decided to go a more nonconventional route, ease into the story and share a few lines from my journal. This makes my letter a little longer, but it’s the way I’m going. The event [ICLH National Youth Gathering] was a profound success and has impacted the future leadership of this church in ways we shall soon see. I’ve attached a few photos and will try to send a few more to Russ to put on the website…www.jude21.com
Here you go…
…Today, Monday the 17th, I enter the grocery store determined and refusing to leave with inferior fruit, rock hard avocados or overly mature papayas. This means a fastidious eye, a confident hand, and speed. Keep your cool. First item: I promised Xiomara I would bring the papaya. The papayas today are pretty big sized. Enormous actually. I look in vain for a little one and I lift up one the size of a small cocker spaniel. Following the lead of the ladies around me, I smack it a few times, glare at it fiercely, study its skin for…what, I have no idea. I kind of shake it and put it into the basket on my arm. I should have gotten a cart. Who puts a cocker spaniel sized papaya in a shopping basket on her arm? Me. It weighs a…lot, but I remember rule number three: keep your cool, and I move on to the limes.
I step up next to a woman a brightly flowered pants and heavily sprayed hair. She is picking up limes, pinching them, sniffing them, and throwing them into her plastic bag. Emulating her, I begin pawing through the limes squeezing them, inspecting them, and throwing them in my bag. She moves faster and faster and watching her out of the corner of my eye, I grow nervous and begin to throw the limes more rapidly in my bag. She grabs another bag and continues her high-speed selection, faster and faster (who buys this many limes?). I'm begining to sweat. She leaves and I look in my bag. I’ve forgotten rule number one: a fastidious eye. My bag is full of duds. It’s not like I can’t pick out a good tomato or onion or something, I just don’t seem to have this tropical fruit touch where my spirit just moves with the cilantro.
My cell phone rings. I duck behind the large banana rack. Am I coming to Comayuguela? Yes, yes, yes. Am I bringing the papaya? Yes. Did I get the queso? Yes, relax…She expands the list, tells me to hurry, and hangs up.
I arrive in the office half an hour later and the youth are spilling out the door into the street there are so many. Good thing the entire back seat of the truck is filled with fruit. I step out of the car. Hey, a little help? Regaton is pulsing from the stereo inside. Dilcia calls out. Calmáte mujer, relax. Dance a little, the youth are here. The youth indeed are here…we’re only waiting for the last group to arrive from the Ceiba and then we will head up to el Hatillo and begin this youth gathering…
The theme is a culture of peace in this violent world. We open in worship, squeezed into the chapel. We sing through the familiar Central American, Lutheran Church liturgy and we listen to Pastor Armindo talk about what it means to be an ambassador of love in the midst of such a difficult country. The youth are attentive and respectful and in this common ground of church, there is suddenly unity.
We move through the next day under the theme “Togetherness, violence, and peace.” We’ve just talked through a big piece: The gang violence in san Judas and the shootings, the domestic violence in la Cañada, the bus massacre in San Pedro Sula the day before Christmas Eve. The mood is somber, not surprisingly, these youth have spoken with moving veracity. This violent reality is not something of the evening news, it is a personal reality. Peace, Nelson says, is our supreme aspiration.
Nelson walks to the center of the room with a tall, long candle. He lights the candle and turns it upside down letting the wax drip onto the floor. He then turns the candle right side up and pushes the bottom into the hot wax on the floor. The candle stands straight.
We move into a seated circle on the floor. Every person holds an orange candle in their hand. One by one, we stand and light our candle for the person sitting to our right. We share our dreams and hopes for the person and then fasten the lit candle to the floor wherever Nelson shows us. I initially don’t see the candles’ pattern. It is still just a random constellation of lights. But slowly, as more and more candles are added, I see the word: Paz. Peace. The youth sit together, clasp hands, and watch. Ninety per cent of these youth come from families where they see some sort of violence, Rubi told me earlier. We sit in silence mesmerized by the lights, listening to the guitar, and thinking of Honduras…
Maricela stands and walks to the center of the circle. She stands before the illuminated word, peace. She speaks and shares and sits down. One by one, more youth walk to the center and share of their worlds. We hear of alcoholism, and poverty. We hear stories of children hiding in fear outside of the house, and protecting their younger siblings. We hear of denied opportunity. unjust responsibility. disappointment. We listen to Roger talk about the silence in his home. The silence bred by machismo that overtakes a family and stifles everyday conversation. He sobs uncontrollably and one by one, the young men go to him and rest their arms across his shoulder, lean on one another and weep together.
Perhaps in the church in the states, or in our relationships, we take our knowledge of what it means to be vulnerable for granted. We depreciate the ability to be vulnerable. In this chapel with these youth, we cherish this safe space.
How, I wonder, can a people, these Honduran youth, that glare at poverty every day and strike against economic hardship and deprivation, how can they heal? Where, at the end of the day, when there is dirt on your face, gunshots in your street, and your child that can’t seem to learn to read, do you find a voice to hear your pain. Why, when every night as you open the door to yelling or silence, does no one offer their hand?
The bonfire later that night lightened things up a bit…in more ways than one. After way too much arguing about who did not want to build the fire, I demanded the task. We’re going to sit by the bonfire for an hour or two, Xiomara tells me. Okay. She hands me a thirty pound canvas bag. Here is the wood, she says. The wood, it turns out, is fifty hewn sticks that I would liken to the building material of one of the three little pigs. This is our wood for the hour long fire. I keep my mouth shut. The fire was brief and horrifyingly enormous (thanks to the two liters of kerosene someone brought in a sprite bottle), but a welcome change of mood.
The youth gathering provided what no one expected. Yes, the youth learned about peace and talked about violence. They danced the punta and played soccer in the moonlight But something more happened. Jesus said, …I came that you might have life and have it to the full…In that safe space, through this vehicle of the church, some young people realized that Jesus promised them abundant life. They shared stories never told and defined practical goals and dreams. They came together in solidarity and began to heal. “For the Healing of the World…” I pray that the healing continues. Together, for a few days, we experienced God’s gracious gift of abundant life. Thank you all for your financial and spiritual support for this event.
With hope,
Lindsay
Lindsay Mack
Iglesia Cristiana Luterana de Honduras
Apartado Postal 2861
Tegucigalpa M.D.C.
Honduras, C.A. Dear Friends,