Ministry to Children

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Speaking in Tongues

When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place. And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability.- Acts 2:1-4

Learning Portuguese is a challenge. Well, learning any language is a challenge. There is no such thing as an easy language. It takes relatively a short time to learn the words. However, they are not just mere words. They represent symbols and experiences of a people. I can say the words without understanding their deeper meanings. I can spend years speaking without really communicating. I can only connect verbally with the Brazilian people when I allow their symbols and experiences to inform my soul. Only then there will be a communication between souls.

There is one lingering problem. I can never appropriate the meanings of these foreign words perfectly. They will always be foreign words to me. I cannot integrate them perfectly. Amazingly, I find this is quite irrelevant. The Brazilians, more specifically in our case, the children and teens don’t seem to mind. They are happy to hear their words flow out of our lips. We might say the words in a disjointed manner but they are still able to accept us. They can see that we want their experiences and symbols to be part of our reality even in an imperfect manner. Perfection is not a prerequisite, just a willing and open attitude. The strange thing is that we are beginning to use these foreign words to express some of our deepest thoughts now. It is no longer “their words” but now we feel that they belong to us as well. They reflect who we are. The children and teens have grown accustomed to our way of speaking and now they don’t even notice the difference anymore.

Mary sat down with Ruan to teach him to read. He spent some of his time correcting her pronunciation. Then he realized that it takes an extra effort on her part to teach him in a foreign language. It made it more special for him. Now, he only wants her to be his teacher. No one else can take her place. It means that he needs to make an extra effort to decipher her accent to understand the words. It doesn’t matter to him. She is able to communicate perfectly to him. She understands his symbols and experiences. Native speakers of Portuguese might have a better advantage over Mary but it doesn’t mean that they would be able to communicate with Ruan. Learning to communicate takes time and patience and, most importantly of all, love.

The Post Office was on strike recently. I only realized it when the strike ended and I received a stack of letters. They were all for the children and teens. We have established a letter reading ritual with the children. I inform them that they have received a letter and they demand that I read it to them at once. Then we sit down at the nearby square together and they open their letters. They want to be the ones who open them or at least, they want me to open the letters in front of them. They like to see the words in English. They are proud that they are written in a foreign language. They can tell others that they received a letter from abroad. However, seeing and touching the letters do not make them meaningful until they hear them read in their own language. The act of translation works like magic for them. The foreign words are suddenly transformed into tangible notions for them. Alex was not happy with just hearing the words in Portuguese. He wanted me to write them down and give him this translation. He is illiterate. He can barely read his name. However, it is important for him to have these words from his special person in the States in his own language. This way he can own these precious words permanently. One day the children asked Mary to read one of Alex’s letters in English. They wanted to hear the letter in its original language. She did it and Alex was baffled. He took her aside and asked how she learned how to read in English. He could not imagine that Mary, once upon a time, did not use the same language as he did.

Words are abundant in the city of São Paulo but communication is always lacking. It took us years to learn how to communicate with the children and teens. We are not there yet completely. It is a long process and there are no shortcuts. It is not a question of using impressive vocabulary or having perfect pronunciation or abiding to the convoluted grammatical rules. All these things are helpful but they don’t necessarily guarantee perfect communication. Communication is something that comes from the heart. Words are spoken everyday without any attempt to communicate. They are like a clanging cymbal. They do not bring peace or joy to those who hear them. Words are necessary but they have to come from the heart to touch the soul.

I have some influence of the Pentecostal movement in my spiritual journey. It was a long time ago. Whenever someone would ask me if I spoke in tongues I always had the right answer for them. However, Mary is not so fortunate in this sense. For years, she said “no”. However, as we grow older, we understand this gift of the Holy Spirit better. The coming of the divine Spirit was to give us the ability to communicate meaningfully. It means that we recognize that God is not limited to one people’s symbols and experiences. He is present and active in all people’s languages. The gift of tongues is the ability to recognize God’s presence in these symbols and experiences. Mary definitely has this gift. She communicates clearly to the children and teens with her gift. It is not about the words.

There is much talk about dialog and communication today. Perhaps, the feast of the Holy Spirit is more relevant today than it has ever been in the history of humanity.

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On Forgiveness

For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you; but if you do not forgive others, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses. Matthew 6:14-15

Novinha was upset that we didn’t get her a gift on her birthday. It wasn’t even her birthday. It was just jealousy. Her birthday was several months ago. However, it was the birthday of another girl. We got her a notebook. We have known this girl for several years. There is a strong bond between us. On the other hand, we barely knew Novinha. She lived in the streets but she hardly spoke to us. She was just not interested in us. This was fine with us. Not everyone wants to be our friend and we certainly don’t want to force ourselves upon anyone. However, Novinha was imposing. She demanded a present for birthday that was long gone. She kept insisting. Eventually, it became unbearably annoying. She was not a young child or teenager. She was about 23 years old. Her behavior was unbecoming of her age. Perhaps it revealed her true reality. It was something we never considered at that moment. Her persistence forced me to give a brutally honest answer. I told her that we give gifts to people whom we know. This was the truth. Gifts are something that flow out of a relationship. However, it was not the right time to say it. It wasn’t said in love. I was annoyed with her. I just wanted her to stop with her demands and it worked. The fact was that we never warmed up to Novinha. We were always disturbed by her attitude. She is a mother of a toddler. Often times, she brings her child to the streets where the child is exposed to all the vices of the streets at a young age. It is not uncommon for her to leave the young child unattended while she sniffs paint thinner. It is easy to dislike someone like her.

After this conversation, Novinha ignored us completely. Sometimes she would walk pass us without acknowledging our presence. We would try to say something to her sometimes and she would give us a weak response. She had lost all interest in us. The relationship just kept gradually deteriorating. Nothing happened to make it better. Then one day, all of the sudden, there was forgiveness. She forgave us first. She approached us and asked to play a game together. Surprisingly, we had a good time together. Then several weeks later, we ran into her with a stranger in the streets. She told us that he was her friend from Columbia. In her introduction, she reminded her friend that we are the people whom she often speaks about. This was strange. We never imagined that she would have such consideration for us.

Things between us got eventually better. Somewhere along the line, forgiveness took control of the situation. We forgave her for being obnoxious. We forgave her for being an irresponsible mother. We forgave her for being demanding. These conceived thoughts we had of her were hindering our relationship with her. We had to release them. She had to release her image of us. Maybe she thought that we did not have room for her in our hearts. She interpreted our actions according to her concept of us and we did the same. We needed to forgive each other in order to discover the true character of each other.

We started talking more often. We discovered that she was born into homelessness. Her mother was a crack addict and she lived most of her life in the streets or in the state orphanage. She never had much of a childhood. She did not say this about herself. She wasn’t aware that there is such a thing as childhood. She was exposed to drugs and violence and abandonment since she was an infant. Now she is a mother. It would be unfair to expect her to act like a perfect mother when she had very limited resources.

This year we bought Novinha a gift on her birthday. Actually it was something Mary made for her last birthday. We did not forget her birthday last year. Even though she hardly spoke to us, we still had a small gift for her. Unfortunately she was nowhere around to receive her gift then. Weeks turned into months before we finally saw her. Since she did not speak much to us then, giving her the gift out of context would be awkward. We even told her about it when she was persistent about buying her a gift. She did not believe us then. However, when we finally gave her gift on her birthday this year, she received it with a timid smile. She did not say much, just enough to show that she appreciated it. A couple of days later, she approached us and asked us for help about a situation regarding her child. She really wants to be a good mother. She is aware that she needs to change many things in her life. It wasn’t our conversations that made her realize this. It was within her all along. Perhaps she just needed someone with whom she can share these things; someone outside her circle who would understand her plight. She needed some resources to help her make these changes, They are available to her but she is afraid to go to these places alone and ask for help. She asked if we would go with her. She is not afraid to do the talking. She just needs someone to be with her in these places.

Our relationship with Novinha was a strange journey. We didn’t like it at first. We thought that it was going nowhere. Then forgiveness came into the picture. It gave us a new direction. It changed how we looked at this young woman. We thought that she was an unfriendly person and an irresponsible mother. She was really an abandoned child who is a little lost and afraid in this world and yet she wants to have the courage to do the right thing in this life. She still brings her child to the streets occasionally. Now, we can say something to her about it and she listens. She wants to do what is best for her child. Forgiveness opened our eyes to see this. It wasn’t a gift she was demanding in that unpleasant encounter. She wanted a relationship. I am glad she forgave us first. It made us realize that we needed to forgive as well. This is how it all works. Mistakes abound but forgiveness…it is just a wonderful gift from God. When we receive and use this gift, our eyes are opened to see people for who they really are.

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A Silent Visitor

I met Grace this week; not a concept nor a girl with that name nor a gracious person. It was a young man who did absolutely nothing. Yet, he helped me understand grace in a strange way. He appeared out of nowhere. We never have seen him before. He just stood there and watched us. It wasn’t from a distance. He was close enough for me to reach out and touch him without moving an inch. However, it wasn’t the proximity of his presence that caught my attention. It was his unrelenting gaze. Yet, it wasn’t uncomfortable. There was no awkwardness. It was a just silent gaze.

I made eye contact with him. I thought perhaps he wanted our help or even join us. There was room for him. He responded with a vague smile and then continued watching us. He never said a word or made any gesture that he wanted to join us. He was content doing what he was doing. Naturally, I assumed that he was mentally-ill. After all, who in this busy city of chaotic activity would take the time to stop everything and watch complete strangers doing activities with homeless children and teens. Perhaps he was but it doesn’t matter. Grace is not hindered by our shortcomings.

He was not a Brazilian. He looked like an immigrant from the African continent. There are a group of street vendors in the center from several African nations. Initially I thought that he was part of their group. However, he did not have any wares with him. He was just on his own. The children initially were indifferent to his presence and then slowly they started to turn their attention towards him. They were obviously fascinated and at the same time, they pretended that they were not allured by this man’s quiet aura. Our children like the majority of Brazilians have African heritage. For the children, this man was a living reality of what was just a distant memory for them. Most of the African refugees here can name the tribe to which they belong. Our children have no concept about anything of their African heritage. They don’t even feel like they belong to the society where they live. They gently approached him. He maintained an unassuming smile. They started talking to him. He did not say anything but somehow the children felt comfortable with him. Their curiosity got the better of them and they became bolder. They asking tons of questions and eventually their hands started wandering to his hair. It would seem a little disrespectful for the casual passerby but there was a sense of innocence in their actions. The young man smiled and allowed the children to play with his hair. They were comparing their hair with his. It would have appeared racist if our children weren’t Afro-Brazilians. I was going to say something to make them stop but I didn’t get the chance. I was glad. Felipe quietly walked around this young man and gently told the children to stop what they were doing. They seemed to understand that they got out of hand. They slowly left the man alone. Felipe stood close by like a bodyguard to ensure that no one would bother this young man.

It is amazing to see Felipe act this way. He is one of the young adults who has been in the streets the longest. He told us that he has been homeless since the age of eight. He had some brief stays in the state orphanage but he practically spent all his childhood in the streets. No parent or teacher taught him any ethical values. In a world of the survival of the fittest, Felipe survived. He could have been one of the children in Golding’s Lord of the Flies. Instead of a wild child, we saw a kind young man going to the defense of another whom he perceived as being subjected to undignified treatment and protecting him. Felipe did this act gratuitously. He wasn’t aware that we noticed him. He does not know that I am writing about his actions. It was goodness in its purest form manifested in Felipe’s life. It took a quiet man to help bring this forth.

I did not see our quiet stranger after this day. No, he is not angel. He was just a man. He did absolutely nothing and yet he did many wonderful things. He made the children to be excited enough to learn about another person. It seems like a simple thing but actually it is very rare that people look beyond themselves. We live in a world where people have lost their sense of curiosity for their neighbors. Everyone is busy, caught up in their narcissistic existence. Yet, this man without saying a word or doing anything drew the children unto himself. He gave Felipe the courage to act compassionately. He gave us the privilege to see that, despite being abandoned and homeless, God still teaches His goodness to His children. After all, the most important thing in life is not being successful but being a compassionate person who gives without expecting anything in return. We need grace to understand this. This is why I call this quiet man Grace.

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Melancholic Beauty

I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service.-Romans 12:1

There have been weeks where I didn’t post anything. Those weeks are gone forever without any memories. I lament their silent passing. They deserve better. I started writing this blog as a way of keeping in touch with people but it has evolved into something special and sacred. It has become like altars constructed with words. The biblical patriarchs built altars to mark an encounter with God. They used stones and we use words. I usually spend the week waiting and listening for these words. They come to me through different means. On rare occasions, they come through a book or a casual conversation. More often than not, these words are spoken through the children and teens themselves. After all, this is why we are here; to hear and discern the voice of the Spirit in the midst of His lost sheep.

Every week we experience the same cycle. We start our Mondays as if we are stepping into the unknown. We are taught to believe that each week is a linear progression to a goal. However, in reality, every Monday is a reset in our experience. We have two days break in-between. Many things can happen during this time. Our children and teens don’t have a notion of tomorrow and next week. They only have today before them. They can only deal with one day at a time. It is not to be confused with modern pseudo spiritual jargon of living in the moment. They don’t live in the moment but in a state of melancholy. It is not joyful. It is sad. They cannot afford to think beyond today because they cannot imagine a future. The past is something that they use drugs to forget. Today is all that is left for them. When they don’t see us for two days, they have lived two days without our existence. They have grown accustomed to life without our presence. When we reappear on Mondays, they have to redefine their world once again to accommodate us. Mondays are always unpredictable. Sometimes there is a subtle rejection. Other times, there can be excitement to compensate for the lack of attention they experienced in the past two days. We have even experienced Mondays where everything is just perfect. Like I said before, it is like stepping into the unknown.

Tuesday is more predictable but not necessarily good or bad. It is just uneventful. The children and teens are around but they usually don’t want to do anything special. They speak to us for a few minutes and then go away. Sometimes we sit and wait for them and no one comes around. If they do, they might spend just a few minutes with us. They still need time to get accustomed to us.

Wednesdays are hopeful. We find them waiting for us. They greet us with a smile. They announce to everyone, “Stephen and Mary are here.” Some might even leave a message asking us not to leave without saying hello to them. They ask about the letters. They complain that they are not arriving soon enough. They promise to write replies to the ones they received in the next couple of days. Everyone wants to play all the games we have at the same time. They will make plans for excursions with us that most of them will not go on when the time comes. Wednesday is the day when we are fully accepted into their circle. They will even encourage other children to give us their attention. I think that the children think that they are ministering to us and, in a lot of ways, they are right.

Thursdays and Fridays are when the flowers bloom. Things become crystal clear for everyone. They understand our presence here. They want us to stay longer. They are game to do anything as long as we are doing it with them. It is on one of these days last week when Felipe asked us if we talk about them with other people. We thought that it was a strange question but then it made sense. He wanted to know if they are part of our lives apart from our time in the streets. His question inspired my reflection today. As I was writing this, I realized that they are an essential part of our weekly liturgy. The purpose of liturgy is to help to us pray and discern the presence of God in our lives. In the Anglican tradition to which I belong, we use the Book of Common Prayer to aid us in saying the right words and thinking the right thoughts about God. Our children and teens are our living Prayer Book. The Spirit uses their words and actions to show us how to think and reflect about God. To Felipe, my answer is a resounding Yes! We constantly talk about you and the rest of the children to our friends and families. You are part of our liturgy.

A Serbian Orthodox priest here told me that liturgy is suffering that brings forth beauty. It made me have a fresh understanding about liturgical practices in the Bible. They seem like a lot of work. I think about the churches that want to make liturgy light and sentimental in order to be more appealing, they usually lack beauty. Beauty hides behind melancholy. It reveals itself in the strangest times and places. In our lives, it can show its face on any day it chooses from Monday to Friday. This is why we take courage and participate in this melancholic liturgy every week because we know beauty is lurking around the corner.

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Within our Limits

Sometimes certain images haunt my mind throughout the week. They make demands for a reflection. One of these was of a mother walking away from us. All I saw was her back as she walked away. We wouldn’t have noticed her if one of the boys hadn’t told us that it was Dreyson’s mother. She came to convince her son to return home. She wasn’t successful. Dreyson was sitting in front of us. He did not look upset. He was just adamant. He wasn’t going to go home. She gave up and walked away without looking back at her son. We stood there in the middle between the mother and the son. Perhaps some would wonder if we could have done something to meliorate the relationship between the child and parent. If we go after the mother, we would be entering a complex maze of problems and situations. It is a world that is too big for us. We might become lost in it and in the process we might even lose focus on Dreyson. We are just finite beings in a world of infinite problems. We need to recognize our limitations. Dreyson was sitting in front of us. He is staying here. It only makes sense that we stay with him.

His parents named all the children with the letter “y” in their names. Besides Dreyson, there is another young son in the streets. His name is Danyel (pronounced as Daniel). The “y” is purposefully inserted to make their names stand out. These parents wanted something special for their children. They had good intentions. We don’t know what unfolded that resulted in their two sons being in the streets. We met the boys when they first came to the center about three years ago. Danyel was 12 and Dreyson was 13 then. The streets haven’t been sympathetic to them. I have seen Dreyson in tears many times. He suffered but has survived the street life. When his mother came for him, he was emaciated and wearing filthy clothes. She wore clean clothes and looked healthy from the back at least. Yet, he wasn’t convinced that his home was better than the streets.

The other children chided him for not going home. It was their chance to be self-righteous, even though they would do exactly the same thing in his position. Only Ruan was honest. In fact, he is one of the most honest teens in the group. He said that it would take more than words to bring him back home. He said it quietly but loud enough for me to hear it. I have been to his house. His mother has a big screen TV and a small dining table. Ruan would rather have a big table and a smaller TV.

I think this is what the children and teens want now. They mostly come from extremely poor families. Thanks to the availability of credit cards, some of their families are able to acquire amenities that they cannot afford. They have entrusted the care of their children to these things. This is another devastating effect of poverty that is hardly addressed. It gives people the false notion of material things. They put all their eggs in the material acquisition basket. The children, on the other hand, want a home where people sit at the table and talk and listen to each other. They want there to be an empty seat with their names permanently written on it. In Ruan’s house, there are hardly any chairs but there is a worn out couch placed in front of the TV. Conversations are non-existent. Ruan and the other children and teens love to talk.

It took a few years for Dreyson to open up to us. It happened a few weeks ago. We were waiting at the square for the children and teens. Only Dreyson showed up. He sat down next to us and did not say anything for a while. I asked him if he wanted to play a game or do something. He wasn’t interested in doing anything. He just wanted to sit with us. Then he said that he missed traveling. His father used to take him and his younger brother to different states in Brazil when he was young. He remembers almost every detail of these trips including the color of the buses and scenery. He said that his father did odd jobs to earn money for the family. Suddenly our usually gloomy young friend became alive. The conversation flowed in different directions. He started talking about school and how much he enjoyed learning new stuff. He asked questions about ourselves and asked what we liked to do. We had a lively conversation for more than an hour. Unfortunately, it was abruptly interrupted. Nothing drastic happened. It just the reality of the streets. Interruptions are part and parcel of it. However, they did not steal or destroy the time we spent with him. We asked Dreyson if he wanted to go a science museum the next day. He nodded his head enthusiastically. We planned the time and left. He did not have a clean shirt for the excursion and I said that I would give him one of mine.

The next day I had a nice t-shirt for Dreyson but he did not show up. We went to the museum with another boy. We were going to take them both together. When we returned, Dreyson was waiting for us. He ran up to us and apologized profusely. He said that he overslept and felt extremely bad. We assured him that we will plan another trip to the museum together. It took a while to convince him that we were not upset at all. Then he calmed down. He was assured that there is still a chair with his name on it in our lives.

This is the Dreyson that was sitting there quietly as his mother walked away from him. He was terrified that he had disappointed us but he did not budge when his mother asked him to return home. Something happened for a child like Dreyson to prefer the streets. It is not normal for a young boy to reject the embrace of his mother. Perhaps, we will never know why he refuses to go home. Perhaps it is not important. It is essential that he never forgets that he has a place where he can talk and be heard. Maybe one day he might have the strength to go home and face his reality there. Until then, we will stay with Dreyson in the streets.

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Unexpected Grace

Her book was exiled to the $0.25 shelf of an used bookstore in the States. It was in Portuguese and it is very rare to find anything in this language. The price is symbolic. It was an unexpected gift for me. I bought it but it never got it what it deserved. It sat on my shelves for almost 8 years. Recently, I decided to read it.

I discovered later that this author* is highly esteemed in the Brazilian literary culture. Books and thesis have been written about her. She never considered herself as a professional writer. Her priorities were being mother, friend, and common observer. Her ordinariness provided her with an unique outlook of life. She had the gift to be amazed with the common things of life. She revealed her secret. She never felt at home where she was. She was of Jewish extraction living in a predominantly Catholic nation. She was born in Lithuania but the only home she knew since she was a toddler was Brazil. All these life experiences helped her maintain an outsider perspective while being deeply engaged in her world. It sounds like the spiritual vocation of a Christian. We live in this world and yet we don’t belong to it. This could be something devastating or beautiful. It really depends on one thing. This author, despite being a non-religious person, wrote extensively about grace. In fact, most academics noted this trait about her. This is why I am writing about her here. Perhaps it is not necessary for me to say so much about the author but nevertheless she deserves the recognition. I want my posts to be a portrait of people. In this case, she would be a portrait of the power of grace. It does not limit itself to a certain people or religious groups. God freely pours His grace to all. One of things she mentioned about grace is that it comes to us in an unexpected manner. It seems appropriate that I am reminded about this peculiarity of this divine gift through a book bought on the $0.25 shelf.

We use the word, “grace” a little bit too freely. We have forgotten that we can only use this word accompanied by awe and wonder. Sometimes some churches think that they have ownership of grace because they have defined it. However, what they have is a watered down version of it which does not deserve its name. Grace remains free because it belongs to God. I remember trying to explain its meaning to a group of teenagers. I could see in their faces that my explanation was empty. They were kind about it. I knew that I failed. I wanted it to be refreshing and life-giving but the words could not do any justice. It was refreshing to read about a grace from an author who was not religious. She had a simpler idea of grace. Perhaps it was purer and perhaps truer to the biblical notion. She described it as a moment where everything becomes crystal clear and harmonious so much so that it touches the depth of our souls and leaves us wondering about life itself. She used the Annunciation as an example. I can think of another one: the Transfiguration. In both events, the people who experienced it were willing to have a radical change in their lives. This is what grace does; it gives us the power to change.

There is really nothing more simple and ordinary than a letter written to a stranger. Our children and some adults in Florida have been corresponding with each other. Often times, both parties tell us that they don’t where to start. Consequently, the letters are written in the simplest manner. Nothing special or dramatic is revealed. Everything is very basic. This was the kind of letter I read to Wanderson. It was really the first time I ever read a letter to him. Despite its spartan content, the sincere and genuine concern was obvious. I asked him if he wanted to write a reply. He nodded to say yes. Then he confessed that he had been sniffing paint thinner all day and he was not in the right frame of mind to compose a letter. It was an unnecessary confession. He is always sniffing paint thinner. It is almost as if he has a bottle of this dreadful chemical surgically attached to him. He promised, however, that he will not use anything the next day so that he could write the letter with a clear mind. We left it at that. About fifteen minutes later, he came back with a card in his hand and a receipt. He spend half of the money that he had kept aside for drugs to buy a card for this woman who wrote to him. He said that it was only right that he gave her something special since she took the time to write to him. For today, Wanderson found something better to do with his money than using for drugs.

No one told him to do this. He had the receipt in his hand to show me that he did not steal the card. He is not the kind to steal or engage in any criminal activities. The other children were watching. Alex who has received several letters asked him how much the card cost. He said that maybe he would buy some to write to the people as well. I did not say anything. There was really nothing to say. Maybe some would not understand what just happened because nothing really did happen. Everything that occurred was something ordinary. We buy cards to send to people without thinking about it. For us, it is the most ordinary thing. In Wanderson’s case, it was something different. He had experienced grace which opened his eyes to see that there was something much better than drugs. He decided to forego a few hours of chemical induced stupor for the sake of an ordinary woman who took the time to write to him. We did not tell him what to do. It was just simply grace in action. For a moment through ordinary means, Wanderson saw a harmonious life being offered to him instead of the drug-induced chaos. He decided to grab hold of it. Even though it may be for just a moment but it is still powerful. It is a gracious moment and it has the power to help a person to take a step towards transformation.

 

*The author’s name is Clarice Lispector

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A Question about Easter

Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.” John 20:24-25

“What is Easter?” Wanderson asked. It seems like a simple question. The answer should be very easy for any clergy person. However, I was little stumped. Perhaps it was the unexpectedness of the question. We had just stepped out of a science museum. He had wanted to go on this excursion for weeks. He even offered to pay his way as long as we accompanied him. Of course, we did not let him to do this. He is an intelligent teenager. He likes to be the clown of the group and yet, there is a seriousness about him. He tends to be melancholic when he is not being the fool.

It is interesting that such a question would be asked in this most populous Roman Catholic nation. The city is replete with marks of Christianity. There are evangelical churches on almost every corner. The center abounds with majestic Catholic churches that tower over the principal squares. Preachers of all sorts and conditions taunt the average passerby with their rhetoric of religious jargon. Nuns and friars walking in their religious habits are a common sight. We spend all our time in front of a church where the doors are closed but its tiny square is our meeting place to play, teach and talk with the children. Religion is everywhere, but despite this, Wanderson still does not know the meaning of Easter.

It is not that he hasn’t heard the standard answer. This is why I couldn’t answer him. I knew him well enough to know that he was asking for something more concrete. If I had replied, “Easter is the celebration of Jesus’ resurrection”, he would have nodded his head and never brought up the subject again. I did not want the question to die without the possibility of resurrection. The standard answer has no relevance to Wanderson’s life. It is hearsay as far as he is concerned. It is enough for him to join in the celebration. He needed to know something more significant and relevant. He would have been Thomas if he had been an apostle. For that matter, I would have been Thomas. His attitude makes complete sense to me. I would want to see the marks of the Cross on Jesus before believing any account of the disciples. It is interesting that Thomas said that he would only believe if Jesus still bore the wounds of His sufferings. There is no doctrine that states the resurrected would bear the markings of their previous lives on their bodies. However, for Thomas, only the Jesus who suffered would do for Him. It was that Jesus who was most relevant to his life.

Our children know suffering. Well, every human being is acquainted with suffering. In our fantasy, we believe that children should be given a brief reprieve from it but reality is often times more brutal. Our children and teens have embraced their suffering. They treat it as part of their lives. They can’t imagine their lives without its unrelenting presence. Consequently, the suffering Jesus is a powerful symbol for them. The idea that God has experienced suffering is very comforting to them. No one has doubts about the meaning of Good Friday. Perhaps the only questions asked about this day is about the dietary restrictions which have nothing to do with the Cross. The image of the Crucified Jesus makes complete sense to our children and teens. It makes God become as one of them. The Resurrected Jesus brings something new to this conversation. It is an invitation to go beyond the Cross. This is quite difficult because it demands that we go beyond our comfort zone. Suffering and pain is our comfort zone as strange as this sounds. Our minds are aware of these things and have grown accustomed to them but the Resurrection opens the doors to something different and new.

Thomas wanted to see the marks of his wounds which led to his powerful confession of Jesus as his Lord and God. The boldest statement made by a Jewish man in the Bible. It is a grave injustice to remember Thomas only for his doubts and not for this confession but such is our human nature. We are more fascinated with failures than success. Failures of others comfort us and we are disturbed by their success. Failure reaffirms our frailty and success perhaps challenges us to go beyond our status quo. In the same way, the Resurrection should disturb us. It marks the victory of Jesus over humanity’s greatest enemy. It is not death. It is suffering. Death comes quick but suffering lingers, especially, when it is unjust. It paralyzes and dehumanizes. Thomas experienced these feelings at the foot of the Cross. The Risen Christ does not put an end to suffering but He overcame it. It did not stop Him from achieving His fullest stature. He came back to give us this Hope. We no longer have to be slaves to our suffering. This does not validate the unhelpful and hurtful clichés of pulling ourselves up by our bootstraps or not having a victim mentality or learning to overcome life’s obstacles. All these empty sayings have nothing to do with the victory of Jesus over pain and suffering. The Risen Christ is our hope to lift people out of their hopelessness. He is the Love able to heal our souls to see beyond the pain and suffering. He is the courage to live our lives to the fullest. This is the meaning of Easter. However, I still cannot give an appropriate answer to Wanderson. None of this translates into words. He has to meet the Risen Christ.

Thomas was not easily convinced by the words of the disciples. However, he saw something in them that convinced him to stay around. They gave him hope that Jesus might appear to him as well. Perhaps, the best way to answer Wanderson or anyone like him is to bear the fruits of our personal encounter with the Risen Christ. This might generate hope in Him to wait and receive the answer from the One who truly gives the most satisfactory answer. Wanderson believes that we might have an answer. However,
all we can say are words and doctrines. None of these will do anything for him. He needs to encounter the Risen Christ. It is a possibility. This is why we celebrate Easter. It is not a historical event. It is an encounter that is still available to anyone today. Wanderson may not be aware of this. Most of people might not be aware of it. They might think that Easter is just a celebration of a dogmatic concept. Well, words are not going to convince them to stay around and meet the Risen Christ. They need to see the fruits of our encounter with Him in our lives. None of the disciples who met the Risen Lord were the same again. Their values changed. Their outlook changed. It was no longer compatible with the world’s ideas or concepts. It gave them the courage to face the unknown and perhaps grave suffering like Thomas himself who became an apostle to India. For us, the Risen Jesus has shown us something even more special. He opened our eyes to see that doing simple and mundane things like going to museum and listening to young teenager’s questions about Easter can be a special and life changing event for us and hopefully, one day for Wanderson.

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Asking for Water

A Samaritan woman came to draw water, and Jesus said to her, “Give me a drink.” John 4:7

I did not get past this verse. In another time and space, I would have just skimmed past this verse moving on to the meat of the story. However, this time it was different. I stopped where Jesus asked for a drink. This is where it all began. The rest of the story would not have happened if Jesus did not ask for some water. It wasn’t a pretext to have a conversation with this woman. The gospel makes it very clear. Jesus was exhausted. He was genuinely thirsty. The woman went to the well at a time when there was nobody around. This is very telling of her state in her own society. She was an outsider in a society of outcasts. She did not expect anyone to be there, especially not a Jewish man. It was Jesus who initiated the conversation. He needed her help because he did not have a bucket to draw water. She did and He was thirsty. That was all that mattered for Jesus.

I never ask any help from our children and teens. Maybe it is because I can only see their needs and not what they have. If I was thirsty by the well and saw one of our boys drawing water with a bucket, I still would not ask for water. I would be thinking about the bucket; wondering whether it was clean and where it has been…I would be thinking about the condition of the bucket more than the person who was using it. If someone whom I consider to be clean and hygienic was drawing water using the same bucket, I would not hesitate to ask for some water. My thoughts would be directed towards the person. Such is life. I don’t want to be like this but I live in this reality. Jesus shows us a better way to live our lives.

Jesus did not see a Samaritan woman. He just saw someone who has the capability to share whatever she has received. The prove of this comes much later in this story. He saw in this woman someone who had something to offer to him. I need to ask myself if I look at our children and teens and think that they have something to share with me. It would only make them appear to be more human to me. If they are always at the receiving end, they will never be my equals. They never be truly humans to me. Maybe the woman wouldn’t have been willing to receive what Jesus had to offer if He hadn’t been willing to receive from her.

The woman was shocked that Jesus was willing to receive anything from her. She was understandably suspicious. Why would a Jewish man want anything from her? She wasn’t afraid of Jesus. She wouldn’t have engaged him if she thought that He was dangerous. Nevertheless, she was suspicious. We have to admit that it is a little strange. Jesus could have asked his disciples before they left him to get some water for him. The disciples were astonished perhaps even a little scandalized (John 4:27) when they saw what had unfolded. Jesus never explained Himself. He was thirsty and this woman despite who she was or what she had done, was able to give Him water. This was all that mattered and this is all it took for us to learn great lessons about the Living Water.

I wanted to write something about the whole text but my mind was stuck on this verse. It stayed with me through the many activities we did with the children this week. I felt the absence of Ruan. We haven’t seen him this week. Last weekend, he introduced us to his girlfriend. On Monday, she was with another teenager. His romantic escape did not survive the weekend. Unfortunately, it was enough to send him running away to hide and recover from his wounds. We did not see him the whole week. His absence made our hearts lonely. Our weekly trip to the foot specialist with Gabriel will end this coming week. His foot is healing perfectly. This means that next Wednesday will be the last time we will walk together to this center and chatting about everything and nothing. I have been praying for his healing but I am going to miss our walks to this place together. The weather has also been unforgivingly hot this week. There were days where the heat had drained all the energies of the children. They were not up to doing anything. Most of them did not even come of their hiding places. We missed seeing most of them. It made us feel like our week wasn’t complete.

I realized that something has happened in us. We can spend weeks not seeing our friends here, which just happened recently. Everyone likes to stay cool and indoors during the summer months here. The heat kills all desire to interact with people. We are fine with this. However, when we don’t see our children for a day, we feel that our days are empty. I thought that we were coming here to help to give their lives some meaning. Now, it seems like that we have received something from them. They have refreshed our lives with their presence. We were thirsty and tired and they came and gave us something to drink.

Perhaps on another occasion, I would not have admitted to this. It makes me look weak and even pathetic to say that I need these children and teens to enrich my days. Then, I read that Jesus was tired and wasn’t ashamed to ask a Samaritan woman for some water. He wouldn’t have had the conversation with her if he wasn’t willing to admit that he needed her help as well.

The simple gesture of Jesus has revealed to us that we cannot show compassion and love to people unless we are willing to let them see that we need them as well. It may be just a glass of water but for the Samaritan woman, it gave her a place in the gospel for eternity.

Maybe you are wondering where I am going with all this. I am not going anywhere. I am just happy to be here where God has given the grace to admit that I see these children giving me something with their lives. Not just to admit that we need them, but also the grace to receive the good things that they have to offer us. They have made our lives richer and perhaps now they can listen to what we have to offer as well.

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Celebration of Life: A Problem at a Perfect Time

I don’t know how to introduce Gabriel. He is a paradox. He is one of the most interesting teens, yet has no particular interest in anything. He doesn’t like to draw. He is illiterate but never shown any interest in learning how to read. The only thing he wants to do is play Uno. On his birthday, we got him a deck of cards. He thanked us for it and then asked us to keep it for him. He was afraid that he might lose it. Then he never asked for it again. I have been wanting to share about this young man for a long time. However, I was afraid that my description of him might make you think that Gabriel is just an unmotivated and apathetic teenager. This would be a false impression of this fascinating young boy. Despite his lack of interest in almost everything, there is something in him that made us connect with him almost immediately when we first met him three years ago. I had to wait for the right moment to share about young Gabriel and it finally came.

Our children and teens are like stain glass windows in God’s eternal church. Some windows are located in places where the rays of sun shines through it first thing in the morning. Others reveal their beauty in the later part of the day. There are some windows that are hidden in obscure corners. Their colors and beauty are not seen easily. You have to wait for the right time of the day to capture their true glory. The sun has to shine at a perfect position and it does so only for a brief moment. It is easy to miss this opportunity if you are not attentive. These windows are often overlooked and even considered as dull and uninteresting. However, they are God’s windows. Therefore, they cannot but contain the beauty of the divine Artist. Perhaps, their exquisiteness is not obvious to the casual transient but through the grace of God, some of us are privileged to be present at the right place and right time to gaze upon this beauty. With Gabriel, the precise moment came when he had a problem with his foot.

No one likes to go the free clinics here, especially the homeless. There are only handful of places in society where the homeless are treated with dignity. Government agencies are rarely part of this handful. Despite this fact, Gabriel went to a clinic on his own. He had plantar warts on the sole of his foot. He mentioned it to me once and I offered to take him to the clinic but he refused. This time the pain must have been unbearable for him to face the condescending attitudes of the staff in these clinics. He got an appointment for a treatment but he missed it. It wasn’t deliberate. He could not find anyone to go with him and did not feel confident to go alone. He wanted to reschedule another appointment and asked us to accompany him. The administrative staff at the clinic was not interested in making things easy for him. He wanted Gabriel to provide some paperwork first which was not previously necessary. At this point, it is pointless for me to go on about the convoluted process. The end result was that Gabriel almost gave up getting any treatment for his problem. Fortunately, in Brazil, there are licensed alternative medicine. They are private and cheaper than the regular private doctors and they tend to treat people more like human beings. We asked Gabriel if he wanted to go to these specialists. We told him that we would take care of the expense. He did not expect this and did know how to react. He just smiled and thanked us quietly. The other children and teens heard this too. We could see that they were pleased with our offer. The normal envious reactions were absent in this case. They must be aware of the pain that Gabriel was suffering with his foot and so did not demonstrate any form of jealousy.

The appointment was on a Wednesday. Gabriel was wearing the best clothes he could find and waiting anxiously for us. In the initial consultation, the podiatrist told us that his problem was treatable but it has advanced and required several sessions. Thus began our weekly excursion to the specialist center. It became our personal one-on-one time with Gabriel. On our first trip, Gabriel started talking about his family. He has ten brothers and sisters. Not everyone has the same father, he said. On another occasion, he told us that he has never met his father. He also revealed that he was not able to read because he needed glasses. Unfortunately, his mother never provided them. As he began to share bits and pieces of his life with us it became obvious that Gabriel was neglected from a very young age. He suppressed his interest in things because he knew that no one would be concerned and help him to develop them. It was his defense mechanism. He also asked us about the letters from Florida. He had never shown any interest in them previously. He wanted to know how we received the letters. It never occurred to us that the postal system was a mystery to him and perhaps the other children too.

With each trip to the podiatrist, we saw that Gabriel was not really a teenager without any interests but one who was afraid to express them. He asked me to read a letter that he received from someone in the States. I had kept this letter with me for months and suddenly now, he was ready for me to read to him. The person who wrote the letter talked about working as a volunteer with seafarers. This perked his interest. He asked if I could help him write a reply immediately. He asked her if she knew stories about the seafarers’ experiences in the high seas. He wanted to know if the writer of the letter has ever travelled to different countries. He confessed that he always interested in foreign countries and what they were like. He started asking me about the countries I visited. We sat on the floor of the church square and talked about traveling. He wondered if he could do it one day. I assured him that it was not something impossible or absurd but was within his reach.

A simple trip to the podiatrist has given this young teenager to courage to show his interests again. Perhaps he realized that they won’t fall on deaf ears. He has already asked my help to write two letters. He expressed an interest in learning how to read and write and wants Mary to teach him. All the sudden our apparently unmotivated teenager has been given a new surge of energy. All because he realized that he is not going to be ignored. This is perhaps something new in his life and consequently it has caused a fresh reaction in his outlook of life.

When we met Gabriel for the first time, we wondered why his parents never came looking for him. He was such a sweet and kind young boy. I am glad that we have our Wednesdays with him. They have given us a vision of this stained glass window of God and to capture its beauty was worth the wait.

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Not without Grace

But each of us was given grace according to the measure of Christ’s gift. Eph.4:7

The question came out of the blue. We were just drawing and talking as usual. Ruan was asking questions about things we did at home. He said that he would like to visit our home one day. He knew that we did not have a TV and he was intrigued by this. He wanted to know how we occupied our time. He was overall curious about everything we did away from the streets. Then all of the sudden, he just asked this question; “Why don’t you just adopt me? I want to live with you.” There was a moment of silence. All the years we have been here, this was the first time any of the children have asked this question. There was an awkward silence.

There was an easy way to answer. I could have said that legally this is not possible. Ruan is technically not an orphan. However, this would be the coward’s way out of this situation. Besides, Ruan knew this deep down. He wasn’t asking us to take him home immediately. He asked in jest and yet there was a seriousness to it. He wanted to know the boundaries of our relationship. He was curious to know if adoption or even acceptance into our household was something that was on the table with us. The rest of children and teens were silent and pretended to draw or color while secretly listening. They wanted to know how we would respond to this question. We were wondering about this ourselves. How can we answer Ruan and the other children honestly?

The problem is honesty. Frankly speaking, I like the way things are now. We come to the streets everyday and spend time with the children and teens and then we go to our quiet home. It seems like a good system. Everything is going well. Our time with the children is time well spent. Our conversations have grown and we are talking about deeper things and they are not afraid to ask us some tough questions present including the one just mentioned. We are learning to see God’s grace working in their lives and hopefully they can perceive this in us too. We love spending time with the children and teens and we can say this honestly. I also like going back to a quiet home and spending the evening reading and relaxing. The time we spent alone has become sacred to us too. We have grown accustomed to the way things are now. We don’t perceive a need to change anything because of the simple fact that we don’t want changes. Unfortunately, a simple question from a young boy whom we have grown to have strong affections is threatening to devastate this so-called comfortable situation. It is almost as if God is asking us through him how far are we willing to go from here. In a way, it is a “yes” and “no” question. The children were waiting for an answer from us. We needed some guidance to give the right answer. However, I was afraid of going to the Bible. It might tell me something that I don’t want to hear for now. My fears were right.

I did not look to the Bible for the guidance but the Word of God spoke to me despite my deliberate negligence. It did not happen in some mystical way but rather through the regular and traditional means. I was in church and the lesson read from the lectern was from Isaiah;

“Is not this the fast that I choose:
…….and to bring the homeless poor into your house;” Isaiah 58:5-7

According to the text, this was the worship that God considered to be true and acceptable. At that moment, it seemed to me like an unreasonable request on the part of God. Not many people would sign up to serve Him if they knew that this was the standard. Whenever we hear such tough sayings from the Bible, we have two choices before us. We can pretend they are not for us but written for specific period and age where homeless were nice, clean and jolly fellows who would be a joy and pleasure to bring into our homes. Since we have different kind of homeless today who can be dangerous and mentally-ill, we don’t really need to heed these verses. The other option is just face the Truth and say this is God’s word for me. Keeping in mind that the scripture is not telling us to go out and grab the first homeless people we see and bring them to our homes. It does tells us that serving God involves openness to radical changes in our lifestyles.

Since we are here to serve the homeless, we only have one choice and that is to face the Truth.

God’s standards are always the best standards for us to live our lives. His standards are not given to impose a heavy burden on us. God is not interested in making us feel bad or guilty. He is genuinely concerned about the poor and their welfare. He wants to help those who in need in a way that would really help them. His standards are a manifestation of His love. They are the only true guide to help us understand how to love our neighbor the way He loves us. Besides, they help to keep us from feeling self-righteous. We need high standards to keep us humble and open to learn from others.

As human beings, we adapt to different circumstances easily and once we are settled in our space, we don’t like changes. It is just not natural to like changes. This is the way we are and God obviously knows this. This is why He always gives the grace to change. Without grace, it is impossible for us to garner the strength and courage to modify our lives. In a way, those who say “no” to changing their lifestyles for the sake of the gospel are saying “no” to the grace of God.

We told Ruan that at this precise moment God has called us to be a family to all the children and teens here in the streets. If we took him to our home, then we could not come to the streets everyday like we do now. We won’t be able to dedicate ourselves to the rest who need to have parents in the streets too. The answer was met with approval among all the children including Ruan. The answer we gave was based on our understanding of God’s grace. We move in the direction that His grace lead us. The fear of change will always be present in our hearts but grace will help us to move forward despite this hesitance. Perhaps there will come a time when we will have to take someone into our home and when that time comes, God will give us the grace to do it. For now, I’ll enjoy my quiet nights.

…the Lord said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” I will all the more gladly boast of my weaknesses, that the power of Christ may rest upon me 2 . Corinthians 12:9

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