1 Sunday Lent 5C March 21, 2010 Mat. 26:11 For you always will have the poor with you... This morning, we will experience a change of pace, if you will. For the past three weeks, the sermon topic has been one some intensity, and rightly so. Next week, we look to Palm Sunday followed by Holy week each with having its own experience of spiritual intensity and passion. So, this morning, we are slowing things down a bit. From Matthew 5, verse 1, we read that when Jesus went up on the mountain, he sat down on the grass, the disciples came to him. When a rabbi sits down and gathers his students around him, there is a teaching about to be given. True enough, for what follows in Matthew 5 is what we know as The Sermon on the Mount. You see me sitting down.. and know, therefore, a teaching is to follow. But first, I invite you to join me in prayer (Prayer) When I was a classroom teacher, one of my favorite social studies vocabulary words for my sixth grade students was ethnocentrism. Ethnocentrism for a sixth grader to say, much less understand, is quite a challenge. Very simply, ethnocentrism means that we look at the world around us through our own cultural and social status eyes, often times giving the aura or sense that we are better, superior. Having a condescending attitude, that is, having an arrogant, a pompous, snobbish attitude toward a person or group of persons is an example of ethnocentrism. What is lacking with this ethnocentric attitude is compassion, empathy, and a true, authentic love for others. In a few weeks, St. Bartholomew s will be sending out 27 individuals on a mission trip to the Dominican Republic. Conveying an ethnocentric or condescending attitude to those for whom ministry is given will prove disastrous for that mission trip. To assist the 27, as well as the congregation of St. Bart s, as to what the missionaries may encounter, Fr. Ward ask if I would share with you experiences and insight Barbara and I gained from our missionary trip to Honduras in December of 2000, some 18 months after the disastrous hurricane Mitch devastated the country. A call went out throughout the Episcopal Diocese of Western New York for people to travel to hurricane ravaged Honduras. Barbie and I, along with ten others, responded.
2 Prior to our trip, we asked to bring with us as little of our own personal stuff as possible so that we may have room in our luggage for such things needed by those we were visiting. Our base of operation was a Honduran Episcopal Church sponsored girl s orphanage located some 20 miles or so outside the city of San Pedro Sula. What is so significant about a girl s orphanage? Here is where we first encounter ethnocentric thinking. Females, especially young and adolescent girls, are oppressed persons in Honduras. I don t believe that I need to explain any further what was just stated. A call went out to everyone going on the trip to carry as little personal belongings as possible in order to provide room for items to be brought with us for the orphanage: over the counter medicines; medical instruments sanitizer unit for the meager clinic facilities; socks, sneakers, underwear, clothing, candy well you get the picture. In Toronto, on the night before our plane left, we gathered in hotel rooms with our luggage, stuffing the suitcases with all the goodies we could get into them. Barbie and I were blessed to be given girls underwear. Our prayer was that the custom inspectors would not request we open our luggage. Our prayer was answered. Upon arrival in San Pedro Sula and a 45 minute van ride, we arrived at the orphanage, appropriately named, Little Roses. What I saw before me set me back in my seat. We approached a walled fortress with steel gates. The lower walls were constructed with 12 foot high cinder block, much like one would find in basement construction. On top of the cinder block was six feet of chain link fence, and on top of the fence was barbed wire. What appeared in front of us sure did put a new meaning to a gated community. The gate keeper guard had a 9 mm pistol on his belt. Welcome to Honduras. I cannot say enough about the reception we received from the staff and the girls of the orphanage. We spent as much time as we could with the girls, who ranged in age from infants to senior high school. The orphanage school was from first grade to eighth grade. Then the girls would be transported to the nearest high school. This orphanage literally saved the lives of these girls, for they came from families that would not or could not keep them. Their future outside of the orphanage? You fill in the answer. When we returned from the mission field each day, our group would spend time with the girls. One of the things that fascinated them the most was blowing bubbles. The simplest of things brought to them were received as if they were made of gold. We played games with them. Some just wanted to be held. Some of us men would give horseback rides. It was a blessing to see them laugh.
3 If you recall, hurricane Mitch was an extremely destructive storm. Entire villages were wiped out. Thousands of people were killed. Those living along rivers and water ways were swept away to their deaths. How could such destruction and loss of life happen? The afternoon of our arrival, we learned a partial answer to that question. Next to the orphanage was a small community the Spanish call a barrio, an area of homeless and dispossessed people. Curiosity and a sense of adventuresome for four or five of us men gave birth to the decision to walk out of the orphanage and stroll through this community. There can t be any harm in that? Remember what I said about ethnocentric attitudes? Jesus stated in Matthew 26:11, For you always will have the poor with you... In my lifetime, I have personally or professionally experienced being in the poorest of neighborhoods. What we experienced that first afternoon in Honduras put a new meaning to being poor. We began our walk through this village and noted that it indeed was located right on the bank of a river. It was now easy to understand the tremendous loss of life along the rivers and waterways during Hurricane Mitch. We need to understand that the adjacent river provided water for all needs of life. You fill in the blanks. Houses? No. Shacks? No. Any kind of wood framed structure? No. Sheets of scrap metal mixed with cardboard were fashioned into shelters. And these shelters lined both sides of the dirt path street. Surprising and wonderfully observed was the cleanliness of the people and their children. Behind the primitive dwellings, clothes hung on makeshift clothes lines to dry. They may be poor, but they were clean. We meandered our way down the main street enjoying the children, greeting the people, being very careful not to exploit them in any way, such as picture taking. We were about half way through our walk when we heard the sound of a horn behind us. We turned around to see the van from the orphanage approaching, the driver yelling to us. He wanted us to get into the van so that he could drive us back to the orphanage. He stated that it was dangerous for us to be here. We debated with him. We did not perceive any danger. Ethnocentristic in our behavior? You betcha. A compromised was reached with the driver we walked; he followed in the van very closely. Upon our arrival back at the orphanage, we were soundly lectured about what is permitted and what is not. We thought that we had seen absolute poverty that day. However, our learning curve was about to take another steep jolt. A major reason for being in Honduras was to assist the Honduran Episcopal Church in the building of village houses and a church for families displaced by the hurricane. Part of that experience included the making of what we know as cinder block to be
4 used for walls. A mixture of sand and cement would be formed into the wellknown two-hole sized block, be set out to dry, and then be carried to the construction site, all done by hand. A lot of perspiration and once clean clothes were sacrificed is moving those blocks. At the site where cinder block was made, I observed a man who, when he emptied a bag of cement, would carefully role up the empty bag and stuff it down his pants. He did this many times during the day. I later learned that he took these bags home to repair the walls in his house which was located in shanty town on the hillside across the road from where we were building the village. This man shared with us that even though he worked to build homes for people such as himself, he did not qualify to get one of these homes. How frustrating that must have been for him. The complete details relevant to his situation we were not told. But what needs to be shared is that only women, mothers, are given titled or are permitted to sign leases for the houses they are given to live in. And if they leave, they are not permitted to sell the house. On one given day, a group of us was assigned the task of shoveling sand from one location outside the church s foundation to inside the foundation s walls. We looked around for the back hoe. No such blessing. All work primarily done by hand. It took us a number of hours to do the job. And afterwards, back at the dorm, liniment for aching backs flowed freely. Realization hit us that those perceived to live in poverty back home in the US live like kings compared to what we observed in Honduras. As you can imagine, needs of the people in Honduras are great, indeed. We gave the Honduran Episcopal Church much credit for stepping up to the plate in providing means to build housing for those made homeless. And employed others affected by the hurricane to do the work. We took our meals with the people we were sent to help. We ate the same food they did, and assisted in the cleaning up afterwards. Sunday morning, we worshipped and received the Holy Sacrament together. We worked a long side of, shared bread, and broke bread in worship together, greatly blessed by those we were sent to serve. We found the people to be very friendly and a joy to be with. We learned that authentic love has no language barrier. During our stay, we were told that the daughter of one of the women who cleaned our dorm needed open heart surgery. She obviously did not have the money for this surgery. She was heartbroken as only a loving mother could be. Our group took up a collection, and what was not raised immediately, the balance was pledged. The operation was successful. A few weeks after our return, we received pictures of a beautiful healthy girl. And of course a beaming, thankful mother.
5 Culture shock experiences included shopping at a corner store. We observed a delivery truck pulling up to a corner store. Out of the passenger side of the truck jumps a soldier with an automatic rifle at the ready. The driver opens the truck and makes his delivery. If the driver did not have a military escort, he would not complete his very first delivery without being robbed. Later, we walked into a corner store to purchase some things for our needs back at the orphanage. We got about five feet into the store and were stopped by a wall-to-wall counter on top of which were wall-to-wall iron bars. You placed your order with the cashier while another person retrieved your order from the store shelves. We drove by a bank. To get into the bank, one had to prove to the military soldiers on guard at the entrance with automatic rifles at the ready that you had a valid reason to go inside. The same was true for many businesses. If you are wondering about the lack of police presence, there is no police as we know police departments. The military is the police. On our way back to the airport to board our plane for home, the old, over loaded, pick-up truck carrying our luggage was involved in an accident. We immediately were told to quickly get out of the van and surround the damaged truck. This was done to protect our luggage from being stolen. In no time at all, we had a fairly large number of young men who seemingly appeared from out of nowhere wanting to help. Yes, we were outnumbered, but we stood our ground and succeeded in protecting the luggage until another truck arrived. While waiting, a truck load of soldiers drove by, took notice of our situation and kept on going. Apparently, they noticed we had the situation under control. What they failed to do was to stop and take our blood pressure. I close with a true story. After hurricane Mitch, a man found a crucifix, muddy, scratched; missing arms and hands, and legs below the knee. He took the severely damaged crucifix to the local priest and gave it to him, saying, Father, I don t know if you can use this. It s in pretty bad shape; it is dirty and scratched; the arms and legs are broken off. The priest gratefully accepted the crucifix. Sometime later, the man returned to the church and asked the priest what was done, if anything, with the crucifix. The priest asked him to turn around. There, prominently displayed on the rear wall of the church was the cleaned but still damaged crucifix. The man was stunned and asked the priest why he had chosen such a prominent place to hang a crucifix without arms or legs. The priest replied, That crucifix reminds us that we are to be the arms and legs of Jesus, that we are called to do the work of the Lord.
6 Let us not under estimate, let us not treat lightly, the significance of the mission of the 27 who are preparing for their journey to the Dominican Republic. In their fulfillment of the Lord s Great Commission - to go into the world to make disciples they are setting the standard of mission for us remaining at home. Are there any of the 27 here this morning? If so, please stand up. A special commissioning of the 27 will be on the Sunday before you leave. This community of the faithful commends you for answering the call to be Christ s laborers in the vineyard. For going into the world, be it in Honduras, be it in the Dominican Republic, or be it right here in Western New York, is what our Christian mission is. As St. Paul wrote, We are to be ambassadors for Christ. Thank you. It is my hope and prayer that the Holy Spirit will light such a fire within the 27 that they will return to lead us into an outreach ministry I truly believe the Lord is calling us to do. I believe it is the Lord s appointed time for this parish to move beyond itself to engage in mission. As the wise priest in Honduras said of the damaged crucifix, we are to be the arms and hands, the legs and feet, of Christ.