Over twenty years ago, someone hurt me very much. There’s no need to recount the details; the reason I bring it up is because I have forgiven this man many times. Sometimes, I remember the incident, think it over,
nd tell myself I’ve forgiven him. Then I put it away again, determined not to give it any more thought.
But I do think about it. It hasn’t been more than a few months since I told someone the story! I can’t tell you how many times I have “forgiven” him. In truth, I understand he didn’t intend to hurt me. I don’t hold it against him. And I don’t bear him a grudge. But somehow, the incident has remained alive for me all these years.
When I began thinking about what to say today, this story popped into my head. This time, I realized
that I have forgiven him but until now I hadn’t been able to see my own involvement as being other than victim. In truth, I had a lot to do with my own hurt. There were several places in the conversation where I could have stopped it, where I should have stopped it, and yet I didn’t.
How many times must I forgive my brother, Lord? As many times as it takes, replies Jesus.
I think I’ve finally forgiven this person for the last time. It won’t make a difference to our relationship. He’s dead now; yet, even if he wasn’t, we would be living far apart and traveling in different circles. But I still need to forgive him for my own sake, for my own spiritual health.
An important part of forgiveness is deciding to release ourselves from the unhealthy baggage not forgiving piles on us. As usual, I did not come to understand this on my own. I was reading an article called, “Is forgiveness possible at Ground Zero?”
Today is 9/11. Ten years ago today, we stopped whatever we were doing and watched the horrors of that day over and over again. Almost immediately, Americans began looking at Middle Easterners differently
and many began casting blame for the tragedy on the nearest Arab-looking person. Then there were all those officials that might have stopped it if only….
We are very good at placing political blame in this country. We are doing it again at all levels of government
over the jobs and debt crises. Perhaps blaming someone helps at first. But in the long run, it is an impossible game to win. Because, you see, it doesn’t help anyone heal, it doesn’t help rebuild cities and towns, it won’t feed the hungry or clothe the poor.
And it really doesn’t make us feel better, either. Forgiving those who chose to attack this country, forgiving those who seem to put politics ahead of what’s good for the country, has to be the Christian response.
Now here’s what we need to remember about forgiveness. It in no way releases the wrongdoers from the sin of their actions. Saying, I forgive you, does not wipe the slate clean. What it does, is allow us to heal
and to learn trust once more. Forgiving someone does not mean they can continue doing the same old thing,
causing the same hurt. It means that by our act of forgiveness, we are working to turn them around.
Do you remember in the epistle two weeks ago, Paul said if our enemies are hungry, we should feed them;
if they are thirsty, give them something to drink; for by doing this you will heap burning coals on their heads?
What a strange thing to say, but Paul means that we are to treat those who have wronged us, who are our enemies, with the same kindness we treat each other. In so doing, we embarrass them into changing their ways. Changing their heart is the part of forgiveness that is about them.
And that’s what the parable is about today. An oriental potentate calls for an audit of all his accounts and discovers that one of his officials has mismanaged a great deal of money. The sum in the parable is so huge
that no one could ever pay it back which makes you wonder where the potentate got it in the first place!
In any case, the official begs for mercy, assuring the potentate that he will indeed pay it back if given enough time – perhaps three lifetimes would be enough. He is greatly surprised, as is everyone within earshot, to hear the potentate forgive him the entire debt.
And yet, the official then sees someone who owes him a trifling amount of money – easily paid off in a matter of months or years – and he orders him thrown into jail until the debt is paid. When the potentate hears this,
he has the official treated the same way.
How can we be forgiven if we are not willing to forgive? It is not a simple matter of asking our own sins to be forgiven and then going about business as usual. If that was the case, forgiveness would be cheap,
not worth asking for.
Remember that forgiveness requires a response from the one being forgiven, some kind of restitution or admission that leads to a changed life. By refusing to accord his own debtor the same magnanimous treatment given to him, the official has cancelled out the forgiveness given to him. It does not take the act of the potentate to do this. No, he merely makes it official. The sinner, by refusing to learn anything from the potentate’s act of forgiveness, condemns himself to living in the torment of his sin.
In reading this parable, we need to be careful not to allegorize it. The potentate does forgive just as God forgives – limitlessly – but that is the only way in which he is like God. God does not sell families into slavery. God does not renege on promises made. The parable is strictly about forgiveness and how we are not to set limits on the forgiveness we offer those who sin against us.
Jesus taught us to pray Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us. If I am not willing to forgive, how can I be forgiven? Just as we work at not causing others harm, so we must work at forgiving
those who harm us.
One of the lessons to come out of 9/11 is that we do not understand the mind of our Islamic brothers and sisters. We are working to correct that but we may never fully understand. St. Paul warns us not to pass judgment on another, that our Lord has welcomed them even though they may not know it. The one who is faithful to his or her lord is upheld by our Lord. That was a radical teaching for Christians then and it is still one for us now.
God’s mercy and forgiveness are unlimited. It is not ours to build in limits.
The images of the World Trade Center being hit, burning and collapsing are part of our memory now. The plane slamming into the Pentagon is not an image we can forget. The courage of the people on board the plane that went down in Pennsylvania, as well as the courage of those who tried to put out the fires at all three sites and lost their lives, is part of who we are now.
But, while we can’t forget, we certainly can and must forgive even if we don’t really know who we are forgiving. If we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord; so then, whether we live
or whether we die, we are the Lord’s.
The Lord has forgiven. So must we.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Psalm 103:8-13
You are full of compassion and mercy,
slow to anger and of great kindness.
You will not always accuse us,
nor will you keep your anger for ever.
You have not dealt with us according to our sins,
nor rewarded us according to our wickedness.
For as the heavens are high above the earth,
so far have you removed our sins from us.
As a parent cares for a child,
so do you care for those who fear you.
--St. Helena Breviary
Being slow to anger and of great kindness are two things I strive for. I don't like to be angry but I don't understand people who rarely are. I am getting better, though, at not reacting out of anger quite so quickly. The kindness part has slowed that down and often give me time to think of why I am angry and how it happened.
But it is a great comfort to me to know that God is slow to anger and of great kindness. That God does not count our sins and then decide how to care for us is astounding. The call to hate the sin and love the sinner is one we don't manage very well and usually find not the least bit helpful. But that seems to be one description of how God loves us.
I suspect every parent and an awful lot of children read that last verse with fear and trepidation. Have we treated our children the way we want God to treat us? When we are called to punish - and all parents are so called at times - do we take the other four verses into consideration? By our actions, what are we teaching our children about God? I know there are times I should have done better, should have been slow to anger, should have somehow managed to remember mercy and kindness.
slow to anger and of great kindness.
You will not always accuse us,
nor will you keep your anger for ever.
You have not dealt with us according to our sins,
nor rewarded us according to our wickedness.
For as the heavens are high above the earth,
so far have you removed our sins from us.
As a parent cares for a child,
so do you care for those who fear you.
--St. Helena Breviary
Being slow to anger and of great kindness are two things I strive for. I don't like to be angry but I don't understand people who rarely are. I am getting better, though, at not reacting out of anger quite so quickly. The kindness part has slowed that down and often give me time to think of why I am angry and how it happened.
But it is a great comfort to me to know that God is slow to anger and of great kindness. That God does not count our sins and then decide how to care for us is astounding. The call to hate the sin and love the sinner is one we don't manage very well and usually find not the least bit helpful. But that seems to be one description of how God loves us.
I suspect every parent and an awful lot of children read that last verse with fear and trepidation. Have we treated our children the way we want God to treat us? When we are called to punish - and all parents are so called at times - do we take the other four verses into consideration? By our actions, what are we teaching our children about God? I know there are times I should have done better, should have been slow to anger, should have somehow managed to remember mercy and kindness.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Shall we shun one another or dine together?
This is the sermon on MT.18:15-20 that I will likely preach at St. Christopher's tomorrow morning.
Sometimes, in preparing sermons, I will go back and see what I wrote in the past – something that is hard to do since I often don’t use a text. In any case, the sermon from six years ago, before I got here, actually used the word shunning. Somehow – I confess I stopped reading at about that point – I went on to suggest that shunning can be a good thing. I’ll bet a lot of people were confused that day!
No one likes confrontation. It happens and, if we do it well, it clears the air. Most of the time we don’t do it well, though, so we avoid it and hope we will eventually forget whatever is causing the conflict. That rarely happens, either.
In her sermon on this gospel text, Barbara Brown Taylor creates this fanciful story*:
Fred, a fellow parishioner, asks you one Sunday if he can borrow your lawn mower after church. His is in the shop. You’ve known Fred for a number of years and worked with him on several projects so you agree. Well, a week goes by and then another and Fred hasn’t returned the lawn mower. So you go over to his house and ask to have it back. “Oh,” says Fred. “My neighbor borrowed it from me and left it in his driveway. He forgot it was there and backed out over it and there’s no lawn mower left. Sorry about that.”
Well, you are really steamed. So you tell Fred that it was his responsibility to take care of the mower and get it back to you in one piece and you suggest that he give you a check for half the cost of a new one. Fred tells you it’s not his responsibility and too bad for you!
So you go get a few other members of the church who know Fred and go back to ask for the check. Fred won’t even open the door but shouts some unkind remarks through the door.
Then you call the parish together and tell them what happened. They get busy making signs encouraging Fred to help pay for the mower and you all head back to Fred’s house. No one answers the door when you ring the bell and all the blinds are closed. But everyone waves their signs and smiles, waving any time the curtains flicker.
Finally, Fred comes out, looking quite sheepish, and hands you a check for half the cost of a new mower.
And I suppose this is where someone says, “They all lived happily ever after.” Except I don’t think we would. Fred will likely leave the parish because he is embarrassed. Others will wonder why they went along with this crazy scheme and will probably not speak to you for a few weeks at least. And, while you have gotten the check, I would imagine you don’t feel too good about this, either. This just doesn’t work.
Let’s put the gospel passage in context. The disciples have come to Jesus to ask, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” And Jesus says that unless we become like children, we will never enter the kingdom. He’s talking about humility and probably curiosity and trust. Jesus goes on to say that the one who causes a child to stumble would be better off tossed in the sea with a great huge millstone around her neck. And then comes that awful part about cutting off an offending hand or foot and tearing out an eye that has caused you to stumble.
Just before our reading, Jesus talks about the lost sheep, how the shepherd leaves the 99 to go and find it, what rejoicing there is over that one sheep. “So it is not the will of your Father in heaven that one of these little ones should be lost,” says Jesus.
With that last line in particular in mind, hear again what Jesus says today.
If another member of the church sins against you, go and point out the fault when the two of you are alone. If the member listens to you, you have regained that one. But if you are not listened to, take one or two others along with you, so that every word may be confirmed by the evidence of two or three witnesses – why? Well, not so you can be vindicated or the other be castigated, but rather so rumors have no chance of being spread about what was said. If the member refuses to listen to them, tell it to the church; and if the offender refuses to listen even to the church, let such a one be to you as a Gentile and a tax-collector.
And, once again, that last line is the kicker. It sounds exactly like we should shun the greatest sinners – recognizing, of course, that we are all sinners of one sort or another, I’m sure. But who is writing this gospel? A tax-collector! And who did Jesus eat with more than the righteous? You have it. Gentiles, tax-collectors and all the heinous sinners those two words represent.
I have to admit it never occurred to me that Jesus goes through that long instruction about how to deal with conflict and then tells us to have dinner together. Jesus always seemed to be enjoying himself at those dinners, too.
This entire chapter of Matthew is about how we treat each other. And how we treat each other says a lot about how we are a community.
What kind of community do we want to be? I asked this question yesterday on Facebook. David Lose, a professor at Luther Seminary in St. Paul, Minnesota, asked it first. He says there are all sorts of communities all over the place and we are probably part of several – work-related ones, social-media ones, communities based on specific activities like running or watching our kids play soccer. But, asks Lose, “What kind of community do we want from our congregation – largely social, somewhat superficial (which is, of course, safe)? Do we want something more meaningful or intimate (which is riskier and harder)? Do we want a place that can both encourage us and hold us accountable? Are we looking for a place we can be honest about our hopes and fears, dreams and anxieties? Do we want somewhere we can just blend in or are we looking for a place we can really make a difference?”
That is a huge question. It is the foundation for the work I hope we will do at our parish retreat in a few weeks. Think about it. Write down some answers and share them with someone else, maybe two or three someones. And then come share those answers with the church at the retreat. I, for one, am hungry for your answers. I am dying to listen. I guarantee you that the Holy Spirit will be there to help us take all of our answers and forge a vision for our future together. This is Kingdom work and it will take every single one of us sinners to do it.
*story is paraphrased
Sometimes, in preparing sermons, I will go back and see what I wrote in the past – something that is hard to do since I often don’t use a text. In any case, the sermon from six years ago, before I got here, actually used the word shunning. Somehow – I confess I stopped reading at about that point – I went on to suggest that shunning can be a good thing. I’ll bet a lot of people were confused that day!
No one likes confrontation. It happens and, if we do it well, it clears the air. Most of the time we don’t do it well, though, so we avoid it and hope we will eventually forget whatever is causing the conflict. That rarely happens, either.
In her sermon on this gospel text, Barbara Brown Taylor creates this fanciful story*:
Fred, a fellow parishioner, asks you one Sunday if he can borrow your lawn mower after church. His is in the shop. You’ve known Fred for a number of years and worked with him on several projects so you agree. Well, a week goes by and then another and Fred hasn’t returned the lawn mower. So you go over to his house and ask to have it back. “Oh,” says Fred. “My neighbor borrowed it from me and left it in his driveway. He forgot it was there and backed out over it and there’s no lawn mower left. Sorry about that.”
Well, you are really steamed. So you tell Fred that it was his responsibility to take care of the mower and get it back to you in one piece and you suggest that he give you a check for half the cost of a new one. Fred tells you it’s not his responsibility and too bad for you!
So you go get a few other members of the church who know Fred and go back to ask for the check. Fred won’t even open the door but shouts some unkind remarks through the door.
Then you call the parish together and tell them what happened. They get busy making signs encouraging Fred to help pay for the mower and you all head back to Fred’s house. No one answers the door when you ring the bell and all the blinds are closed. But everyone waves their signs and smiles, waving any time the curtains flicker.
Finally, Fred comes out, looking quite sheepish, and hands you a check for half the cost of a new mower.
And I suppose this is where someone says, “They all lived happily ever after.” Except I don’t think we would. Fred will likely leave the parish because he is embarrassed. Others will wonder why they went along with this crazy scheme and will probably not speak to you for a few weeks at least. And, while you have gotten the check, I would imagine you don’t feel too good about this, either. This just doesn’t work.
Let’s put the gospel passage in context. The disciples have come to Jesus to ask, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” And Jesus says that unless we become like children, we will never enter the kingdom. He’s talking about humility and probably curiosity and trust. Jesus goes on to say that the one who causes a child to stumble would be better off tossed in the sea with a great huge millstone around her neck. And then comes that awful part about cutting off an offending hand or foot and tearing out an eye that has caused you to stumble.
Just before our reading, Jesus talks about the lost sheep, how the shepherd leaves the 99 to go and find it, what rejoicing there is over that one sheep. “So it is not the will of your Father in heaven that one of these little ones should be lost,” says Jesus.
With that last line in particular in mind, hear again what Jesus says today.
If another member of the church sins against you, go and point out the fault when the two of you are alone. If the member listens to you, you have regained that one. But if you are not listened to, take one or two others along with you, so that every word may be confirmed by the evidence of two or three witnesses – why? Well, not so you can be vindicated or the other be castigated, but rather so rumors have no chance of being spread about what was said. If the member refuses to listen to them, tell it to the church; and if the offender refuses to listen even to the church, let such a one be to you as a Gentile and a tax-collector.
And, once again, that last line is the kicker. It sounds exactly like we should shun the greatest sinners – recognizing, of course, that we are all sinners of one sort or another, I’m sure. But who is writing this gospel? A tax-collector! And who did Jesus eat with more than the righteous? You have it. Gentiles, tax-collectors and all the heinous sinners those two words represent.
I have to admit it never occurred to me that Jesus goes through that long instruction about how to deal with conflict and then tells us to have dinner together. Jesus always seemed to be enjoying himself at those dinners, too.
This entire chapter of Matthew is about how we treat each other. And how we treat each other says a lot about how we are a community.
What kind of community do we want to be? I asked this question yesterday on Facebook. David Lose, a professor at Luther Seminary in St. Paul, Minnesota, asked it first. He says there are all sorts of communities all over the place and we are probably part of several – work-related ones, social-media ones, communities based on specific activities like running or watching our kids play soccer. But, asks Lose, “What kind of community do we want from our congregation – largely social, somewhat superficial (which is, of course, safe)? Do we want something more meaningful or intimate (which is riskier and harder)? Do we want a place that can both encourage us and hold us accountable? Are we looking for a place we can be honest about our hopes and fears, dreams and anxieties? Do we want somewhere we can just blend in or are we looking for a place we can really make a difference?”
That is a huge question. It is the foundation for the work I hope we will do at our parish retreat in a few weeks. Think about it. Write down some answers and share them with someone else, maybe two or three someones. And then come share those answers with the church at the retreat. I, for one, am hungry for your answers. I am dying to listen. I guarantee you that the Holy Spirit will be there to help us take all of our answers and forge a vision for our future together. This is Kingdom work and it will take every single one of us sinners to do it.
*story is paraphrased
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Rock for stumbling or for building?
I can see us standing around staring at the piles of rubble, turning in one direction and another trying to find something that is familiar, that will help us to make sense of what has happened. But the missing buildings make it all look alien, strange, scary. By the waters of Babylon, there we sat down; and there we wept when we remembered Zion.
Once we could look beyond the destruction, we might well discover that, like the Israelites in Babylon, we also live in an alien land. While Christianity might still be the dominant faith in this country, mainline Christianity – established churches with full-time ministers and staffs – is under attack both from within and from without. How are we to be Christians in this unfriendly place when we have no sacred space to retreat into?
That is the very situation the Israelites found themselves in. No Temple, no place for God to dwell and for the faithful to make their sacrifices. No city, no land that has been given them by that same God. Maybe even no God. And there they sat, on the metaphorical ash heap of life, in Babylon, for years. More than a generation sat and wept, unable to move beyond their grief, their sense that God had abandoned them forever. They mourned a life that they could remember dimly, in fragments because none of them had ever lived it.
The second prophet called Isaiah comes to these people with a message of life, a message that stirs them from the ashes and requires action on their part. In six verses, the prophet reminds them of the Exodus, Abraham and Sarah, Eden, the laws given to Moses and God’s incredible act of creation.
“Listen to me,” he says, “all of you who seek the Lord. Look to the rock from which you are hewn, to Abraham and Sarah, your first parents. Out of this one, I have made many, says the Lord. Hear the message that the Lord will bring comfort to Zion and make Eden out of the waste places in which she lives, a garden filled with joy and gladness, with thanksgiving and with song.
“Listen to me, I tell you, you people of God, and pay attention, you the nation of the Lord. A teaching will go out, the teaching given to Moses of justice and deliverance, a teaching of light and salvation. And it will go out to all of the peoples from the coast to the mountains, from the south to the north. My arm reaches out to all of them. Lift up your eyes and see the heavens above and the earth below, these that I created before I created you. All of this will vanish and wear out; every living creature will die. But my salvation will be forever, and my deliverance will never be ended.”
We are not the ancient Israelites. For instance, we have not been forced to leave our homeland and live in the wilderness of an alien land. Even if our church were destroyed tonight, we have insurance with which to rebuild it. But we are *like* them in that we often identify ourselves by this place rather than by the One who has called us into this community. When you think of St. Christopher’s, what do you picture first: this wonderful space or the faces of the community? The answer says a lot about who we are. If we identify St. C’s as a particular space, then we are limiting the work that God can do here. If we see our community, then our understanding of St. C’s knows no bounds.
Like the Israelites, we need to listen. We need to look to the rock of our faith, the Christ, to learn how to be God’s people. Here at St. Christopher’s, we are young enough to still have in our midst some of the very building stones of our first community of believers. We can still know what it is like *not* to have this place but to travel with the altar or the nursery in the trunk of one’s car all week long.
Like the Israelites, we can look to our ancient roots as well and know that the Lord is made known to us in those stories of Eden, Abraham, Sarah, Moses and, yes, even the Israelites themselves. Our story begins with all them and continues through the Christ and Peter, another rock. We have been given the eloquent teachings of Paul and so many who have come after him.
But what we do with that foundation, how we choose to build, where we shine the light of the Lord is entirely up to us, this community of faithful people.
We do live in an alien land. How can we take what is best from our past and use it to help shape our future? How are we to present ourselves as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God? How can we transform ourselves in such a way that others will know God through us?
These are not questions for individuals. They are addressed to the one body in Christ here gathered. Talk to each other. Pray for guidance in building the future that God wants for us. Look, listen, seek and heed. Only then can we begin to understand that we have a part to play in the coming of the Kingdom. Then we can step out boldly and do what God is asking, not in fear but in confidence, knowing that we, too, are rocks, part of the very foundation of the Church.
Monday, July 18, 2011
A weekend of being tourists
Saturday morning, we left at 7:00 for a "three hour trip" to Copan. But first we stopped for fuel and water. Then we took a side trip to Santa Clara, a village way above the valley where the road is. It was a road full of very rocky places, several deep ruts/dips and mud in a few spots. But Fredy managed to get us there in one piece. The school has been built by donations from several churches. All of the buildings are brick with Spanish tile roofs and ceramc tile floors. The windows are screened and open to catch the breeze. This weas by far the best of the schools we saw in our travels. It is a bilingual school and two of the girls who were in the Santa Cruz shelter are boarding students here.
After about half an hour - I did not wear a watch this week so time has been relative - we returned to our van and headed back down the mountain road and the highway to Copan. In several of the villages and towns, speed bumps have been installed to keep people from flying through and endangering lives. Remember this is a country with no speed limits and people also ignore the double yellow line in the middle of the road. Speed bumps in a loaded van are not fun, though, and added to the wear and tear of our derriers.
We finally reached Copan about 1:00. Yes, that is six hours after we left home. ;-) Our first stop was Macaw Mountain. This attraction was built by a man from Knoxville who came to Honduras as a Peace Corps volunteer and pretty much never left. All of the macaws, parrots and toucans we saw are birds that have been rescued from poachers. They come to Macaw Mountain to heal before they are returned to the wild. Most of us had our pictures taken holding two or three of these beautiful birds. We would normally have been allowed to walk through the aviaries; however, this is mating season so we had to leave the birds pretty much alone. Macaws are mate for live and live to be about 80 years old.
We had lunch here and then headed for our hotel and some shopping. I confess to having gone a little wild on the latter before heading for the hot tub at the hotel. After a nap, we had a late dinner in the hotel dining room. On Sunday, we got up late and ate big breakfasts before heading to the Mayan ruins. Copan is the last Mayan site built and it is from here that Mayans disappeared completely at the end of the 9th century. All that was left when the Spanish arrived about seven hundred years later was ruins. Reconstruction began in 1891 and continues today. Apparently the site is so rich that they can uncover in two months enough things to study for two years. Nury told us they are behind in the study part of things and have stopped digging until they catch up.
Our tour guide was named Marvin (!) and was quite knowledgeable about the site and the history of the Mayans. We had a good time with him. He told us that bananas and palm trees are not native to Honduras but came from Asia. I can't imagine Honduras without either of those trees. We did see some incredibly old capok trees that have survived earthquakes and hurricanes. One of them looked to be growing out of the hill at a sixty-five degree angle.
We had lunch at a restaurant in town. The taco soup would have been sufficient since most of us were still digesting breakfast. It was really very good. We also had baked chicken, potatoes, carrots and green beans. Sunday dinner just like Mom used to make! After a little more shopping - Adam finally found his hammock - we got back onto our van and started back to San Pedro Sula. The homeward trip only took four and a half hours with one stop to stretch about halfway. We siad good-bye to Javier, our favorite waiter, and Belinda, the bartender at the pool. This morning, we will head for the airport and begin our journeys home. Susie Cox returns to Los Angeles and the rest of us come home to Kingsport by way of three different airports. We have become a family in this short week.
After about half an hour - I did not wear a watch this week so time has been relative - we returned to our van and headed back down the mountain road and the highway to Copan. In several of the villages and towns, speed bumps have been installed to keep people from flying through and endangering lives. Remember this is a country with no speed limits and people also ignore the double yellow line in the middle of the road. Speed bumps in a loaded van are not fun, though, and added to the wear and tear of our derriers.
We finally reached Copan about 1:00. Yes, that is six hours after we left home. ;-) Our first stop was Macaw Mountain. This attraction was built by a man from Knoxville who came to Honduras as a Peace Corps volunteer and pretty much never left. All of the macaws, parrots and toucans we saw are birds that have been rescued from poachers. They come to Macaw Mountain to heal before they are returned to the wild. Most of us had our pictures taken holding two or three of these beautiful birds. We would normally have been allowed to walk through the aviaries; however, this is mating season so we had to leave the birds pretty much alone. Macaws are mate for live and live to be about 80 years old.
We had lunch here and then headed for our hotel and some shopping. I confess to having gone a little wild on the latter before heading for the hot tub at the hotel. After a nap, we had a late dinner in the hotel dining room. On Sunday, we got up late and ate big breakfasts before heading to the Mayan ruins. Copan is the last Mayan site built and it is from here that Mayans disappeared completely at the end of the 9th century. All that was left when the Spanish arrived about seven hundred years later was ruins. Reconstruction began in 1891 and continues today. Apparently the site is so rich that they can uncover in two months enough things to study for two years. Nury told us they are behind in the study part of things and have stopped digging until they catch up.
Our tour guide was named Marvin (!) and was quite knowledgeable about the site and the history of the Mayans. We had a good time with him. He told us that bananas and palm trees are not native to Honduras but came from Asia. I can't imagine Honduras without either of those trees. We did see some incredibly old capok trees that have survived earthquakes and hurricanes. One of them looked to be growing out of the hill at a sixty-five degree angle.
We had lunch at a restaurant in town. The taco soup would have been sufficient since most of us were still digesting breakfast. It was really very good. We also had baked chicken, potatoes, carrots and green beans. Sunday dinner just like Mom used to make! After a little more shopping - Adam finally found his hammock - we got back onto our van and started back to San Pedro Sula. The homeward trip only took four and a half hours with one stop to stretch about halfway. We siad good-bye to Javier, our favorite waiter, and Belinda, the bartender at the pool. This morning, we will head for the airport and begin our journeys home. Susie Cox returns to Los Angeles and the rest of us come home to Kingsport by way of three different airports. We have become a family in this short week.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Last day in th shelters
This morning started off slowly. Fredy needed to get the tire we blew yesterday replaced. He ended up getting new tires for both front wheels. Frankly, given the roads we have been driving, I am surprised flat tires aren't a daily or weekly event. In any case, it was after ten when we left our hotel. It did give us a chance to sleep in, though.
We returned to Santa Cruz which is a little more than an hour from here. The children had just finished their morning school work before heading off to school after lunch. So we had very little time with them. The older boys went outside to play soccer with Adam Harpster. Betty, Caitlin and Beth had the girls making note cards - another learning: never put out more stickers than something needs since the more there are to choose from, the more they will stick on whatever they are making. The younger boys enjoyed the bean bag toss we brought. When the children sat down for lunch, we helped serve them, heard them say grace and then Gordon thanked them for letting us come to visit. We ended by singing the Doxology and then headed for our van.
Baldamar, the leader of the Santa Cruz shelter, took us to see the home of one of the children who comes to the shelter. It was more than a mile away and the roads were precarious at best and impassable at worst. We ended up walking the last few blocks because Fredy simply couldn't get the van any farther.
This house was better than most because it had a concrete floor and a new tin roof, gifts of the congregation to which an Osman Hope board member belongs. The home is a single room with a blanket hanging down the middle to give a sense of living space and sleeping space. There is electricity but no plumbing. The cooking is done outside and there is a kind of lean-to for storage. The mother sells spices to make a living. Her market is locals and the children sell the spices by going door to door in the town. Lately, the economy has been so bad that very few people are buying. So, even though she grows as many of the spices as she can, her stock is very low and her clientele even lower. There are five children in this house ranging in age from four to fifteen. Despite the extreme poverty, the family has done everything they can to make their home beautiful. It is surrounded by flowers and trees.
We had lunch at Nury's family home on Lago de Yojoa (yo ho' a). This lake has several tilapia farms in it so our lunch was freshly caught and fried tilapia. Hondurans eat fish like we eat fried chicken - with their fingers. They also fry their fish whole. Yes, that's right, from tip to tail! The first thing I did was remove the head and a few fins. But the work was worth it as this was some of the best fish I have ever eaten. It was accompanied by a kind of vinegar cole slaw, pickled spicy onions (there were jalopenos in the jar, too) and pineapple for dessert.
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We returned to Santa Cruz which is a little more than an hour from here. The children had just finished their morning school work before heading off to school after lunch. So we had very little time with them. The older boys went outside to play soccer with Adam Harpster. Betty, Caitlin and Beth had the girls making note cards - another learning: never put out more stickers than something needs since the more there are to choose from, the more they will stick on whatever they are making. The younger boys enjoyed the bean bag toss we brought. When the children sat down for lunch, we helped serve them, heard them say grace and then Gordon thanked them for letting us come to visit. We ended by singing the Doxology and then headed for our van.
Baldamar, the leader of the Santa Cruz shelter, took us to see the home of one of the children who comes to the shelter. It was more than a mile away and the roads were precarious at best and impassable at worst. We ended up walking the last few blocks because Fredy simply couldn't get the van any farther.
This house was better than most because it had a concrete floor and a new tin roof, gifts of the congregation to which an Osman Hope board member belongs. The home is a single room with a blanket hanging down the middle to give a sense of living space and sleeping space. There is electricity but no plumbing. The cooking is done outside and there is a kind of lean-to for storage. The mother sells spices to make a living. Her market is locals and the children sell the spices by going door to door in the town. Lately, the economy has been so bad that very few people are buying. So, even though she grows as many of the spices as she can, her stock is very low and her clientele even lower. There are five children in this house ranging in age from four to fifteen. Despite the extreme poverty, the family has done everything they can to make their home beautiful. It is surrounded by flowers and trees.
We had lunch at Nury's family home on Lago de Yojoa (yo ho' a). This lake has several tilapia farms in it so our lunch was freshly caught and fried tilapia. Hondurans eat fish like we eat fried chicken - with their fingers. They also fry their fish whole. Yes, that's right, from tip to tail! The first thing I did was remove the head and a few fins. But the work was worth it as this was some of the best fish I have ever eaten. It was accompanied by a kind of vinegar cole slaw, pickled spicy onions (there were jalopenos in the jar, too) and pineapple for dessert.
After we ate, Nury cut Emperor's Canes for each of the ladies. This is an ornamental that is quite expensive in the States. The stalk really does look like rhubarb red sugar cane. The flower is not really a flower as we think of them at all. It looks like this:
WE finally drove back into San Pedro Sula and did some shopping at Nury's gift shop. We head for Copan tomorrow morning very early so I will say good night and get ready for bed.
Friday, July 15, 2011
Santa Cruz
Let me tell you about where we are staying. In the US, this would be called an extended stay hotel. We have a living room/dining/kitchen - complete with pans, two burners, a fridge and toaster oven - two bedrooms and a bath. With the exception of the Brewer family, there are two of us in each apartment. It is really quite comfortable. It is air conditioned to the point of chilly so Susie and I usually turn it off when we return home at night and don't turn it back on; however, the maid always does that for us.
Hotel Villa Nuria has its own restaurant, gym, laundry, pool and mini market. I don't think any of us has used the gym but the pool is our afternoon respite and we have eaten all breakfasts and two dinners in the restaurant. Oddly, pizza is one of the things they do well. The whole compound is gated/walled for safety.
Today, we went to Santa Cruz which is outside of San Pedro Sula by about an hour's drive. There is no speed limit here so I have no idea how many kilometers away it is. On our way down the road, we had a flat tire! So all of the men got out to take care of it. Fredy told the ladies to stay inside. There was very little room on the shoulder and we did worry about our folks standing in the road. It didn't take too long to fix and we were back on the road once again.
Santa Cruz is the cadillac of shelters. It has two very large rooms with high ceilings and ceiling fans. The children have showers as well as toilets in the bathrooms and each of them bathes before going to school. The ages here range from about five to fifteen years. Two of the boys who were there this afternoon we 18 but they are assistants rather than students. We did some crafts to start then played games, adding musical chairs and statues to our repertoire. We ended with balloon animals and swords and then jump rope. All of the children like to jump rope.
As half of us worked with the children, the other half worked to paint the inside of the church with which the shelter is associated. It was oil-based paint and Gordon said the fumes really got to him. Needless to say, it wasn't easy for these folks to clean up.
Santa Cruz is a decent size town with a central square and a "shopping district" of sorts. After we had driven through the town, we came back into San Pedro Sula with just enough time to take showers and change for dinner. We went to a Mexican-style restaurant in the city. Nury, Fredy, Ingrid, Esther (two girls who came to Kingsport last fall for a visit) and Ileana (administrator of La Lima) all went with us so we were quite a large party; however, this restaurant seemed to cater to large parties. The food was quite good and I think a good time was had by all.
And now it is time for bed once again. We have said our prayers individually tonight and are very tired.
Hotel Villa Nuria has its own restaurant, gym, laundry, pool and mini market. I don't think any of us has used the gym but the pool is our afternoon respite and we have eaten all breakfasts and two dinners in the restaurant. Oddly, pizza is one of the things they do well. The whole compound is gated/walled for safety.
Today, we went to Santa Cruz which is outside of San Pedro Sula by about an hour's drive. There is no speed limit here so I have no idea how many kilometers away it is. On our way down the road, we had a flat tire! So all of the men got out to take care of it. Fredy told the ladies to stay inside. There was very little room on the shoulder and we did worry about our folks standing in the road. It didn't take too long to fix and we were back on the road once again.
Santa Cruz is the cadillac of shelters. It has two very large rooms with high ceilings and ceiling fans. The children have showers as well as toilets in the bathrooms and each of them bathes before going to school. The ages here range from about five to fifteen years. Two of the boys who were there this afternoon we 18 but they are assistants rather than students. We did some crafts to start then played games, adding musical chairs and statues to our repertoire. We ended with balloon animals and swords and then jump rope. All of the children like to jump rope.
As half of us worked with the children, the other half worked to paint the inside of the church with which the shelter is associated. It was oil-based paint and Gordon said the fumes really got to him. Needless to say, it wasn't easy for these folks to clean up.
Santa Cruz is a decent size town with a central square and a "shopping district" of sorts. After we had driven through the town, we came back into San Pedro Sula with just enough time to take showers and change for dinner. We went to a Mexican-style restaurant in the city. Nury, Fredy, Ingrid, Esther (two girls who came to Kingsport last fall for a visit) and Ileana (administrator of La Lima) all went with us so we were quite a large party; however, this restaurant seemed to cater to large parties. The food was quite good and I think a good time was had by all.
And now it is time for bed once again. We have said our prayers individually tonight and are very tired.
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