Call me Global!

This is a rant in a what could be a barrage of rants that have been tormenting my head lately. The unfortunate part is always that when not written down immediately, they tend to vanish or change with time.

On of the frequent debates I have with myself concerns my identity, particularly, who I am in reference to geopolitical factors and boundaries, which very clearly also influence the cultural identity. Many of my friends have heard me complain at times about what I like to think of as a “lack of identity” and other times, they might have also heard me be proud of it and even called it a gift. Fact of the matter is, however, that whenever I am asked: “So, where are you from?” my head starts racing. Depending on the occassion, the length of the answer may vary, but truth be told, I am not comfortable saying “I'm from Canada,” because frankly, I have not been here that long to be a “true Canadian” (what is a “true Canadian anyways?). Similarly, I am not comfortable saying “I am a Paraguayan,” because once again, if I am honest with myself, I feel that having been absent from Paraguay for 7 years has changed me in some ways, added to my life experience, and frankly to my personal worldview: I am a different person now, am I really still only a Paraguayan? Of course if these two countries which have shaped me and my thinking most profoundly do not have enough pull to make me a true patriot of either, Switzerland lands even further down the list. And yet, as irony would have it, I was born a Swiss and up until 3 years ago I was only a “Swiss” if official citizenship has anything to say in this discussion. So I have developed what I like to call the Rafael Patent Answer to Questions about Origin or RPAQO for short. So when I am asked “where are you from?” I take a deep breath and then answer (speaking as quickly as possible so as to answer as efficiently as possible to such a banal question) “I was born in Switzerland, grew up in Paraguay and spend most of my life there, and for the last 7 [this is a variable of course] I have called Winnipeg, Manitoba my home” Pheww!

Now, what is most bothersome and for that reason also why the question of origin is so dreadful to me is that if people decide to care, even just a bit, the conversation does not end with my RPAQO. There are classics responses to tend to guess exactly which country if a citizen of then, which is kind of fun, because I can usually prove people wrong in their assumptions, which nonetheless will necessitate a extensive answer on my part as to why it is the way it is. Or then there are the “I care for you so much I want to know more” questions, which tend split into two camps: 1. The camp who desperately wants to know which country I “feel” I most belong to, which is not helpful, because my emotional attachments are to people rather then places and thus the list of countries I “belong” to is amplified in this question; or 2. The camp who is intensely interested in where you think you will live for the rest of your life, with a corollary of “do you think you will move back to Paraguay?” Unfortunately for both them and me, my answers to these questions tend to be belaboured and cryptic, which is unpleasing for questioner as well as labour-some for me.

It is only during this last month, while speaking to people at the Mennonite World Conference General Assembly (MWC from now on) that I realized some thinks about this. As I was answering the quetsion of where I was from with my oh so quick and efficient RPAQO I heard a most fascinating answer that I liked. The person who asked chuckled and then said “Wow, just call me 'global,' eh?” Just call me global, and indeed why not. A lot of things the MWC, the first one I ever attended, did not live up to my expectation. I guess one should not expect learning experiences such as you receive in University conferences from a huge conference that the MWC is, but one thing it did is that got me started thinking about spaciality and the artificial boundaries that we have put upon the spaces that we inhabit, and which we expect to transfer to who we are as people and how we interact with each other. Do not get me wrong, I think particular, local, and unique culture is important. However, to much have we associated culture, with borders, with lines drawn on a map. In CMU-speak, have we not flattened our world into rigid lines of detachment, that transfer to our lives and force us to conform what we are to something that is not alive, not encountering it in our world as much as on paper which forces us to put up institutions to follow it. In other words, do I have to be either Canadian, Swiss or Paraguayan to have a full and valuable identity. The answer is fairly simple and yet true. You see, at the MWC 6000 people of different tribes, nations and countries came together, celebrating not their national heritage, but rather their oneness in a world that tends to be so fragmented and that puts so much value on territorial, political and personal sovereignty that it has made everyone else the other in order to be self.

And yet by meeting together as 6000 people believing in one God, his son Jesus Christ and confessing the same faith we were proclaiming that these fragmentations, these borders are not what the world is supposed to look like, but that it is a product of the fallenness of this world, the product of the initial separation between humans and what completes, namely God. And through God's gift of salvation, things have changed:

Ephesians 2
But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For he is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us. He has abolished the law with its commandments and ordinances, that he might create in himself one new humanity in place of the tow, thus making peace... So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God.

At MWC 2009 6000 people came together as one, worshipping the same God in the same faith, in unity but not in homogeneity. It is that particular lack of imagination that our bordered world offers us that requires of us to the same if we are in unity, that just cannot imagine a world of oneness even in difference. And yet, that it was God calls us to, that is the gift of our creator that he has made us unique, some as Paraguayans others as Kenyans, and yet others as Canadians. And he has also made the floaters and in all of there is an uniqueness that reflects the oneness of our God, his image so manifoldly displayed in this world that refuses to be homogenous. So we came together as 6000 Christian Anabaptists worshipping, celebrating our oneness in God and our diversity as people of different cultures, that live lives in different ways and that relate to our God in varied ways and even sometimes understanding him in different ways then others. We came together knowing that God was there and that this diversity is his gift to us, a reflection of that God in us and a proclamation of his power to draw together those far and near into one body that transcends and ruptures the artificial boundaries or our wold and challenges the Kingdoms who want to break us apart. So please, call me what you want, ask me where I am from, because its true: I AM GLOBAL and so is our God, and so is our faith.

1. Corinthians 12:12-13
For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many are one body, so it is with Christ. For in the one Spirit we were all baptized into one body – Jews or Greeks, slaves or free – and we were all made to drink of one Spirit.

Its been a while.

Dear diary, its been a while since I have written... Just kidding, that is definitely not my style. But it’s been a long time since I have updated this blog and I figured it was about time. Life has been busy and good. February, traditionally the hardest month of winter anyways (I think most Winnipeggers will agree with that) played it's game with us as we received snow and it was cold, which made our working conditions tough and really made us appreciate warmth so much when we could get it. And even though we spent much of our time complaining about "work,” it has steadily grown to become an aspect of my life that I cherish. Not being able to go to work as happened a couple of weeks ago, really threw a wrench into our routine, which was at first tough to handle. So work has been tough, it’s been rough, it’s been tiring and wearying and yet it has become a part of my existence here that I would trade for no other.

This last week we had the opportunity to go to Bad Reichenhall in Bavaria for a week of sightseeing, getting to know new folks and visit old friends (for me at least). We went to two bible-studies, taught a full day of English and sung, prayed and preached with and for the congregation. It was a real blessing. I was reading a book today that was speaking of the loneliness of people, a theme that I have mentioned several times in this blog. It seems that wherever you go there are people who are longing to speak, to share and to be heard. We spent a good amount of time doing that. It has been interesting to see why God does the things he does. We were requested by the Bad Reichenhall congregation, and so were sent by the Pritzkau's. We had our plans, our hopes, and what we knew to be our strengths and also our weaknesses. But all that God needs is us. How marvellous and wonderful to see and to reflect in hindsight on the reason why God wanted us there. It was to listen and to share our life with someone else. God needed us the way

we were and through that impact one person and encourage her. We had fun, we loved the mountains, but God had his own plan all along.

And while I reflect on that experience I cannot but think to the one thing, which seems to permeate every step that we take here in Germany: being confronted with the recent history of that country. While we slept, ate, walked, drove and admired the absolute beauty of this countryside and the friendliness of the people and the openness of the hearts we also had to realize the dark history of that countryside. We spent three hours in a Nazi Documentation Centre, set up on the same hillsides where once Hitler forcefully introduced himself into, taking ownership of all surroundings and creating a massive complex of houses and people to underscore, protect and inflate his massive ego. We read and heard about the vast details of the rise and fall of one Man, who shaped this countries history, to the point of robbing it of the history it had to that point, robbing it's hope and its religion. There is no point of trying to regurgitate what I learned and saw, but I want to leave you with one thing:

At this museum, so well documented that it was blunt, I realized the successes that Hitler had was not a nations fault, it was not the "German's" who were responsible. Rather, as I read and listened, one thing started gnawing into me: The fact that Hitler was able to enact a perfect symphony of ideas, thoughts and images that took over and usurped the long tradition of this country - religion! It was an act, it was a theatre, it was a beautifully orchestrated piece of fine art but above all, it happened not by chance but it was planned. Hitler, the man became a cult long before he became the emblem of the Nazi Arian state. Hitler became a god, not by chance but because he knew what he had to do, what the people wanted and what they reacted to. You might not understand my surprise, but it is know for the first time that I really understand Bonhoeffer and his critique of the church. How is it possible for one man to become deified in such a way that he could kill millions with the approval and adulation of so many people who cannot possibly be called evil all-together. Because although people were religious they had not a faith. Because the church, God's way of acting and enacting his kingdom had already failed. Were the church was not able to bring hope anymore, but only religion, only tradition, Hitler was able to take centre stage, readily conceded to him by the major churches of this country. And in a sick and fateful twist, when Hitler turned out to be nothing but a demagogue, but just another fake, he took with him the pieces of hope, trust and pride of a people and a nation. With that one bullet, he took with him the rich history of this country, the history of growth, of innovation, of proud tradition and deep faith, and replaced it with a history of millions of death's, 40 years of occupation and a hopelessness, a fatalism, a loneliness that can be seen everywhere and that is so hard to combat.

++ Picture explanation: Lonely people with nothing else to do.++

Finally an update.

There he is. Just another man standing in-front of one of the countless grocery stores, the innumerable kiosks and Doner shops. Just part of the scenery, receding almost into the façade of Berlin, just another face, another life that we pass by each day. And yet, one wonders. What’s going on behind that face? What kind of life is that of just standing there all day, with the alcoholic beverage of preference in ones hand, the whole, long day? What choices were made, what circumstances pushed this man to just stand, drink, sell smuggled cigarettes. One wonders; I wonder!

He seems to be faithful representation of the inner struggle of Berlin, making visible what goes on beyond many closed doors, and shut windows: solitude, idleness, hopelessness and alcohol. It is that particular characteristic of these old Soviet style buildings that although painted yellow and bright they appear grey, a scenery that in an ironic twist on Marx seems underscores the alienation from life, from hope, from others, from God I feel when one encounters people, when one looks into their eyes and sees what they are so desperately trying to hide. But why care? Don’t people pass us by everyday? They are just somebody, anybody!! I have my own problems to deal with.

And then there’s Daniel, who lives alone with his mom. He is 12 years old, a 6th grader. His mom comes home from work at 10 P.M. He spends his afternoon in-front of his TV. Don’t even bother consulting the T.V. Guide, he knows what is playing on his favourite channels at what times, down to the exact minute. It’s all planned out, and yet, after meeting us once he comes to hang out on construction in the afternoon. As I start talking to him, I notice that he does funny things, is always on the move. He tells me that he has twitches he cannot control: “They are annoying, but I have learned to live with them.” Oh well, after all it’s the inside that counts not the outside, right? The answer: “Yea, I guess.”

Why care? The answer is simple. Because God does. Because when I see that man in front of that store, I can’t help but seeing Jesus stand there with him in the cold. Because when I look into the eyes of that stranger passing me by, I cannot help but feel that Jesus is looking into those same eyes with all the care of the world. Because when I see Daniel twitch and twist, I see Jesus twisting and twitching with him. Maybe this seems a tad too cliché, a picture a bit too poignant, to affective for us.

And now faith, hope and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.
1. Cor. 13.13

And yet, what would happen, if instead of praying for these people, I would pray that God would give me enough love to stand with that man, to look at those eyes the way he does, or to twist and shake with Daniel? It is my prayer that God would grant me enough love to live life with other, rather than in front of others to be with, rather than to be for, and to give everything to them, rather then just providing an example.

If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but to not have love, I am but a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal.
1. Cor. 13.1

My Grandma

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want. Psalm 23:1

Well, I have spent the better part of the last 5 days travelling. Starting in Berlin, I have been in Basel, Switzerland and surrounding areas, back to Berlin, then to Bad Reichenhall in Bavaria, followed by another day in Basel, and now I am sitting on an Intercity Express Train that will bring me back to Berlin. These 7 hours on the train will be the most relaxing time I have had lately, but its been worth it. I want to take this opportunity to write something about my Grandma:

My Grandma was named Suzanne Widmer-Rychen, but to me and my brother she was and will always be Mamama. Mamama was a kind-hearted, happy, energetic woman of God who very clearly loved us Grandchildren from the depths of her heart. I grew up in Paraguay and thus was only able to see her every three years. We stayed at Mamama’s and Papapa’s house every single time we came, until they moved to a care home. I fondly remember the memories of their house, and living with my Grandparents. The children’s room was only accessible through the room of the Grandparents and often before going to sleep we would stop by their beds to chat for a while and to get a good-night kiss.

It was always, always clear that nothing would be amiss when we would come. Months before, Mamama would be baking all sorts of delicious pastries and cakes, that she would freeze and then bring to perfection for the conclusion of one her delicious meals. There was always, always food on our plates and whatever Mamama could do for us she would. You might say that that is normal for a grandparent to do that for their grandchildren who live far away, and yet, this experience reverberates through so many stories that I have heard from people all over the world that have stayed and have come to visit my grandparents. It was Mamamas gift and passion to serve others in any way possible, something she took with her even to the care home, where she would phone everybody she knew on their birthday to congratulate them. Up to the last moments in her life she was still thinking of a letter she wanted to send out, and a phone call she had to make. In her last conversations with one of her great-grandchildren she lamented the fact that she had no chocolate to give away this time. This was two days before her eventual passing away.

There are so many things she would do and say that demonstrated her love for us grandchildren, and I wont tell them here. What always impacted me is that all of these things did not come by its own, but they were a reflection of her deep relationship with her saviour, God. She loved God, and experienced his love in many troubled times in her life. This love did not permit here sit idly, but she served in the church and outside of it wherever she could. Although she told me many times that it had been hard for her that my mom was living so far away, you could hear in her tone of voice and see in her words that she was still happy, because she knew that my parents were serving the same God that she was, just in a different part of the world, and that was sufficient for her. Mamama and Papapa were prayer warriors that always relied on God. In these last couple of years, there was not one conversation with Mamam, in which the topic of her and my faith did not come up. As the grandparents got older, they knew where they were heading to, and they were looking forward to leaving this earthly life at some point or other. One of the particular stories that I remember very vividly is this one:

Several years ago, when we still stayed at their house for a summer, we had made plans with my aunt that Mamama had not known about. Now, in Basel, there is a shopping centre called the Shopping-Paradise where we would often go with Mamama (as a matter of fact this had become a tradition at that point already). As my brother and I were getting ready to leave the house Mamama poped in and blurted: “Do you guys want to go to Paradise today?” My brother and I looked at each other, because what we had understood her asking us was wether we wanted to go to heaven with them that day. I finally carefully ventured an answer: “Well, Mamama, sure eventually, but today, I am don’t really think we are ready.” Disappointment and confused looks followed, until we had finally realized that what she had done was to invite us to the Shopping-Paradise, not to be confused with the paradise that is promised to us when we go to heaven. We had a good laugh, and I will always remember this experience.

In the following years, Mamama would often tell me, however, that she was now ready to go to that heavenly paradise. She had to be patient however, which became harder and harder to do once Papapa passed away in 2005. Everyday that I would see her during the brief visits in 2006 she would let me know with hope in her voice, that she might not be there anymore the next time I would visit her. And yet, she never gave up. She loved life and she waited patiently for God to end it at his bidding and not at hers. She knew where she was going and she understood it to be God’s mercy when that time would come.

Two weeks ago, her condition worsened and I booked a flight from Berlin to Basel planning to most likely be attending her funeral. What do you know that by the time I arrived she had been better for two days and was able to eat, drink and even speak to us. Even though her voice was cracking and I could not speak loud and clear enough for her to understand everything, we had a conversation about the favourite topic of hers, that of her faith. She undersood every word I said and her face lit up, and I still remember the last clear words she told me that day as she was holding my hand with one of hers and caressing my arm with her other: “My time is in his hands.” And so it was. On Thursday she spent the whole day sleeping restfully by the grace of God who finally gave her rest, and early in the morning on Friday, the 12th of December 2008 the God whom she faithfully trusted to the very end and whom she knew to be the only true, almighty, all-knowing, merciful and loving Father decided that it was time for Mamama to leave her earthly life and body and enter a new one. Many of her loved ones have preceded her, including her husband Pierre Widmer (Papapa) and her second daughter Jeanne (at the age of 8 months). One of the Bible verses she requested to be read, a couple of days before her passing are these words from Psalm 107:

O give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; for his steadfast love endures forever. Let the redeemed say so, those he redeemed from trouble and gathered in from the lands, from the east and from the west from the north and from the south.

With all my love Mamama: Good-bye for the last time. Thank you for all the prayers, your love, and your example. I will always cherish my memories of you and I will miss you. I am happy for you and I do hope to see you there some day.

Routine

Wow, has it only been two and a half weeks? Well, to answer my own question "yes." But it also feels much longer. As I was reflecting about why we are as tired as we are I realized that from the first full day we have been here we have been working. We have had two days off so far, but that is changing this week, as we have been allowed to slack a bit. But more importantly, the church has changed a lot in two weeks. Incredible! It is so fortunate for us to have been able to witness progress in a large scale that quickly after we arrived. It has given me personally encouragement and the desire to do more, to make this building look even more beatiful then it is. I know that so often the more subtle changes that go unnoticed are as important or even more important in such things as renovating the church. But it is energizing nonetheless to see big and drastic change.

And it seems that we are slowly starting to work ourselves into a routine, which is nice and important I think. This week we get two days off completely, with two days of work and then today which was meeting+hanging with the Pritzkaus day. To top it all off, we found this store fairly close to were we boys reside which sells so many cool things that it is very hard to not spent money there. It is a craft store, but it has all sorts of neat things, starting with amazing Lego sets to build-it-yourself models of all kinds of things to the cherry that tops it all of which is this: die-cast airplane models. Man, that store is like heaven. So today, upon going there a second time, here is my purchase: A model of a Swissair DC 8-53 that flew with Swissair under registration HB-IDB, and was converted sometime in the sixties from a -32 to -53. Anyways, its a 1:500 model, and it's very detailed. It is painted in classic Swissair livery and it is beautiful. If this piques your interest do look the registration on Google and you will find tons of pics.

Now, to finish this rather uninteresting post of I want to quote out of 2. Corinthians 12:9

But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me.

This verse has popped up a couple times this last week and again today and I find it very appropriate for our team and for myself. I hope that I can continually let God work out of my weaknesses rather then I working out of my strenghts. I realize how we often just try to be strong, or smart, or practical; we all try to be somebody. And yet, God does not ask us to be any of that, he does not ask of us to be something we are not. All he ask of us is that we give everything to him, including our weaknesses that we so often try to hide from this productivity-driven world we live in and let him take care of it. And the promise and often for us the dread is that God will not always use our strenght, but his true power comes in that he uses our weakness. I believe that is harder for us to embrace the we think, and so I will keep on trying and praying and surrendering.

I love tools!!!

I NEVER KNEW POWERTOOLS WERE THIS MUCH FUN!!!! But they are, let me explain. So, as we have now been relocated from the church to two families (Girls are at the Epp's, Guys at the Warkentin's) I am writting this from our room in what seems to almost be an attic. The space efficiency of the Europeans continues to astound us and makes clear once again that when it comes to any kind of city planning/engineering we are far behind. We love it at our families places and I dont even mind the two hours a day spent on trains getting to the church and back. But back to the tools. The new windows for the church have arrived. No more drafts, no more boarded windows, the church is not a dark cement block anymore, but light is actually shining through the windows right now. And that is where powertools come in. Because in order to get new windows in, old ones have to leave. And guess who gets to help taking them out? US. And its been a lot of fun, we have been smashing glass, carrying heavy windows, setting up sketchy scafolding and many more fun things. Two highlights from today: 1) The garage windows were cemented into place, so I got to use a jackhammer of sorts, coupled with a sledge-hammer to completely demolish these windows. Hard work but tons of fun (yay for powertools that make tons of noise and demolish stuff). 2) Some other windows that we had to take out where welded shut. Whats the solution? Cut through the welds, which was so much fun and created a ton of sparks. It was a good day, needless to say.

Now, beyond the obviously boyish obsession with powertools I seem to have developed over the last 24 hours (unabashedly might I add, seeing as I am a boy and this hence it fits quite nicely with my overall personal profile) there is the visibility of change that is happening. We have only been here a week and somewhat longer, but the church is already our home, and we love it dearly and it is beyond nice to see how its being changed and made more beatiful, how light shining in now in what used to be darkness. And I cannot help but feel that this is the place of this church in the community it is at. Walking around the area one cannot help but feel like the area of Treptow even though now free from communist enclosure, government censorship and many other things has not found real freedom. I have said many times over the last little while that it seems to be an area in bondage. And into that darkness comes this group of Christians who are not just there but who want to change things. Renovating a delapitaded building is one thing, but much more than that this church wants to shine a light into the darkness and open the windows so that God comes in. What a privilege to be just a little part of that. Please also continue to pray for this church, its people and its leadership.

Whose time is it anyway?

One of my favourite songs, first in German, then translated shabily by me.


Meine Zeit
Meine Zeit, steht in deinen Haenden,
nun kann ich ruhig sein, ruhig sein in dir.
Du gibst Geborgenheit, du kannst alles wenden.
Gib mir ein festes Herz, mach es fest in dir.

1. Vers
Sorgen quaelen, und werden mir zu gross. Mutloss frag’ ich: Was wird morgen sein.
Doch du liebst mich, du laesst mich nicht los. Vater, du wirst bei mir sein.

Meine Zeit, steht in deinen Haenden,
nun kann ich ruhig sein, ruhig sein in dir.
Du gibst Geborgenheit, du kannst alles wenden.
Gib mir ein festes Herz, mach es fest in dir.

2. Vers
Hast und Eile, Zeitnot und Betrieb nehmen mich gefangen, jagen mich.
Herr, ich rufe: Komm and mach mich frei! Fuehre du mich Schritt fuer Schritt.

Meine Zeit, steht in deinen Haenden,
nun kann ich ruhig sein, ruhig sein in dir.
Du gibst Geborgenheit, du kannst alles wenden.
Gib mir ein festes Herz, mach es fest in dir.

3. Vers
Es gibt Tage, die bleibe ohn Sinn. Hilflos seh’ ich, wie die Zeit verrint.
Stunden, Tage, Jahre gehen hin, und ich frag’ wo sie geblieben sind.

Meine Zeit, steht in deinen Haenden,
nun kann ich ruhig sein, ruhig sein in dir.
Du gibst Geborgenheit, du kannst alles wenden.
Gib mir ein festes Herz, mach es fest in dir.All my time, is in your hands,
now I can be still, still in you
You give security, you can change all things.
Give me a steadfast heart, make it firm in you.

My Time

All my time, is in your hands,
now I can be still, still in you
You give security, you can change all things.
Give me a steadfast heart, make it firm in you.

Vers 1
Worries torment, and become to big for me.
Discouraged I ask: What will tomorrow look like?
But you love me, you never let me go.
Father, you will always be with me.

All my time, is in your hands,
now I can be still, still in you
You give security, you can change all things.
Give me a steadfast heart, make it firm in you.

Vers 2
Haste and hurry, busyness and the want of time,
imprison and haunt me. Lord I call out to you: Come and set me free.
Take me and lead me step by step.

All my time, is in your hands,
now I can be still, still in you
You give security, you can change all things.
Give me a steadfast heart, make it firm in you.

Vers 3
There are days that just lack sense and meaning.
Helpless I look on and see the time pass.
Hours, days, years pass by, and I wonder where they have gone.

All my time, is in your hands,
now I can be still, still in you
You give security, you can change all things.
Give me a steadfast heart, make it firm in you.