Saturday, August 21, 2010

Identity Crisis and Idol Worship



This last month has been the hardest. G*d has begun to show me the truth of my fears and faith. Moving into a different culture, has challenged my own. Before I assumed so much of my culture was "just normal". Here I have to wrestle with my cultures underlying collective beliefs.

For example in India there are numerous holidays throughout the year where the Hindu people spend large amounts of time, money, and creative energy constructing beautifully painted idols. They parade these through town only to dump them into the Ganges River as a sacrifice to the gods. Through the centuries of idol worship, this now polluted river causes all sorts of illness, disease, and death for my community who rely on this dirty water for daily life. And yet these human-made objects are worshipped because the Hindu people believe the deities will reciprocate their devotion providing happiness, fulfillment, prosperity, belonging, among other things. It is the Hindu faith and fear of these gods that lead them to worship. At first sight, coming from my western culture, these idols seem absurd, until my eyes were opened to my own cultures idolatry. If we worship who we fear, then perhaps the question is, "who or rather what do I fear?"



When I first moved to Kolkata, my new community did not know who I was, which was in contrast to the community I had just left who thought quite highly of me (at least I think they did). My reputation, good and bad, did not follow me to India. And because other people did not know who I was, I forgot who I was as well. I had an identity crisis my first few months as I realized much of “who I am” was wrapped up in the lie that I am as good as people think I am. Much like any other idol, a reputation is something human made. It is what we create together as we watch, judge, and remember each other’s actions. This human-constructed idol of reputation is the fear that unless I get everyone, including myself, to believe I am good than I am not really “enough”. The Idol of Reputation promises the false-hope of attaining the fulfillment, happiness, and belonging that I have always wanted.

Looking back, and still now, I give so much time, energy, and critical thinking into winning the praise of others, and thus I worship of the idol of reputation. The problem is this idol creates an "in group" based on the exclusion of others. The idol of reputation excludes those who do not have a good reputation, like perhaps prisoners, prostitutes, drug addicts or other marginalized groups of people in society that are deemed “bad” because of things they have done. Like every idol, it only brings death and destruction in a community as it breed’s comparison, mistrust, and division. Prisoners on death row stand in witness to the death the idol of reputation produces.

But this idol crumbles as we remember our Sav!or died as a convict. His reputation nailed Him to a cross. Chr!st is the only one without sin. Where the Idol of Reputation says there is something to be achieved, G*d’s mercy stands in starch contrast and proclaims, “G*d’s love is for all and it cannot be earned”.

Hindu god of prosperity Lakshmi-->

Another identity crisis took place as G*d revealed my own love for money. In my fast-paced capitalist American culture, I have believed in the lie that “I am as good as my salary. I am as good as the profit I produce for a company. I am as good as the material things accumulate for myself”. Like all idols, money is something we humans create and attribute value to. Money promises to bring happiness, success, security, and prosperity. These promises are rooted in the fear that we might not “have enough.”



So often I have worshipped the idol of money. Whenever I chose my work based on a pay rate rather than the good it did for others, I bowed to the money. Even my understanding of time was sacrificed to money so every second was a quantifiable dollar amount that is best not wasted on things like slowing down, patience, prayer, and living in the present with others.

Much like the idols in my Kolkata neighborhood, the money is another false-hope that steals life and produces death. I see now that this idol in my culture transforms middle class families into a place where mom and dad are absent because they feel they must maintain a livelihood that required 60+ hour work-weeks. This fear brings death to families all over the world as it has created a culture of accumulation in the west where the richest 10% of adults have 85% of the world total wealth (2000). Over 1.2 billion people survive on $1.25 (USD) a day. The fear that drives materialism in my culture is starving the majority of the world. Inside North America, undocumented workers, the unemployed, the mentally or physically disabled, and the homeless are seen as sub-human when we find belonging by what we own or can produce.



But this idol crumbles as we remember we follow a homeless Savi0r. When a rich man wanted to follow, Chr!st told him to sell his possessions and give the money to the poor. The Me$$iah that explained we can love G*d or we can love money, we will hate one and love the other. We must choose to follow the man who proclaimed, “Blessed are the poor” which stands in starch contrast to a world who fears the fate of the poor. On the Contrary, the life and teachings of our homeless Sav!or’s proclaim, “This love is for all. You cannot earn it and you cannot buy it.”

Hindu people make their idols of visible material like wood and stone. Perhaps it is the invisibility of my own idols which is most dangerous. It is in a Hindu culture I find myself entangled in a worship of wealth and fame. As long as my identity is tied to idols, I will never fear the G*d who Chr!st followed to the poor, the excluded, the marginalized, and the forsaken. Perhaps this is why it is in the loosing of our lives that we gain it. I guess my hope is G*d might woo this rich young woman into loosing herself.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Entering Community with the Poor

My new neighborhood is a place where most people avoid even walking past lest someone find out they were in this part of town. This is because I share this section of the city with over 10,000 women "standing in line" who are entangled in the sex-trade. Most of which are self-less mothers who would rather sell their bodies than watch their children go hungry or uneducated.

My new home is a 15"x8" too-short-to-stand-up-in room and consists mainly of a bed, a kerosene stove, a fan, a TV, and a drain where we do our bathing, cooking, dish-washing, and (occasionally when it is urgent or too late to leave our room) it is for our peeing as well. I have found myself living life alongside the most incredible, warm-hearted woman named Shikha and her far-too-beautiful-to-be-living-in-a-red-light-district 11 year old daughter named Papya. I am happy to say these are my new room mates.

I am discovering there are many beautiful treasures in relationship with the poor.

For instance, as I packed my stuff for the big move, consolidated "my-life" into a back pack, I was required to think critically about my wants verses my needs. Suddenly as I looked over my heaps of belongings scattered on the floor there was a shift in thought. The things that had once brought me feelings of security or self-worth, suddenly seemed quite unnecessary and even shameful as I realized these things were not only excessive, they were too expensive and and large to fit into my new home.

It was at this moment I realized how much of my identity has belonged to those things on the floor called "my belongings" and somehow at one time I had been so convinced I needed. But why?

My new neighbors had lived their whole lives without such things. I looked down at my designer clothes that had once given me so much confidence in America, realizing now they would be hurtful to my neighbors self-worth, as they could never afford such things. I counted my 15 sets of clothes that had once given me a sense of security in their numbers, only now the more I counted the more it seemed like a waste knowing the cost of just one those pants could pay our rent for the next 2 months. And all my gadgets for "well-traveling" now seemed like roadblocks for well-living.

It was in that moment I found I had been owned by the things I owned; possessed by my own possessions.

And for the first time, my rock solid "ideal of simplicity" was shattered. Now I see simplicity is so much more than a principle, it is actually the natural overflow of love when our neighbors are those who are poor. I'm believing more each day that the inequality of wealth in the world is not because the rich do not care about the poor, but we simple do not know them. It has been in relationship with the poor that I'm discovering my own poverty; greed, materialism, and hoarding to name a few.

It brings to mind "Blessed are the poor for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven".


Friends and neighbors enjoying Shikha force-feed me yet another dessert

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

A Lesson on Language



A few days back, I was sitting with the ladies at work, practicing my Bengali; something I try to do as often as I feel adventurous enough to leave my text books for the real thing. Although, this time was different. Many of the women seemed too busy to help and I started to feel like a burden. About ready to retreat to my books, one lady sensed my discouragement and began to patiently teach me the names of body parts. Pointing to her nose or her ear, she would say the word in Bengali and I would repeat and hope to retain it, but often inverting syllables and beckoning the laughter of the ladies around us. Yet I was astounded at how quickly I was learning!

Fifteen body parts and an hour later, I realized who this patient woman was; she was one of the twenty original ladies that began with our business 10 years ago. She is a beautiful old woman, the type of beauty where you can tell she has always been beautiful. And she was elegant, even in her second-hand sari sitting on the floor of our workroom teaching me Bengali, she was clothed in dignity. Then I remembered, this is the lady who goes out into our community and finds women who have the courage to leave the trade and work with us. A real freedom fighter! Suddenly, I felt honored that she had given me so much attention.

After an hour of patient teaching, we left to find some water. Passing by Kerry, she said (in Bengali) "We are going out to the red-light district". I was surprised by the arrangement, but I quickly agreed, as I gulped down the rest of my water.

With my limited Bengali, and the growing trust I had for my newfound teacher, we ventured out. I felt so vulnerable, realizing this was just my second time walking the red-light district and my first time relying on a person to lead me who did not speak my language. But a rush of peace replaced my fear, as she took hold of my hand, leading me through narrow lanes and busy streets with the tenderness of a mother's love. I felt the warmth of her heart in the warmth of my hand.

We walked past the hundreds of women standing "in line" and stopped to talk with only a few. From what I could understand, she would tell them about our work being a place to work with dignity and more importantly freedom from "the line". I would answer questions about myself, as each curiously asked about me. Each time, the women were delighted when I answered back in their own language, feeble as it was.

The last woman we visited invited us into her room and bought us chai and cookies.

Sitting on her bed, drinking the chai, I couldn't help but imagine what had took place there, right where I sat. What had she endured? What was the cost of my little cup of tea? And how gracious was her hospitality? My heart ached, but I smiled and sipped, not wanting to waste a drop of the costly tea she had given of herself to buy.



The woman listened as we shared about our work I thought for a long time, carefully forming my words, "Apni amrader shonge kaj korte cai" (I want you to work with us). She smiled, but with a tinge of despair. I wish I could understand and say so much more. I wanted to listen to that despair, to reach beyond my elementary vocabulary and limited understanding of the conversation. It was there that language learning took on a whole new level of importance.

In the midst of my seemingly endless struggle to grasp this new language, it's days like this where learning vocab and grammar take on new meaning and new hope. Teachers like this are rarely found in a classroom. And these lessons on language cannot be found in a book.

Sunday, July 18, 2010

A Revealization


So I have been wrestling with a question; “Do I love Chr!st’s mission more than I love Chr!st?”, a question that unsettles me in a place I have not wanted to confront.

To be honest, prayer has been an afterthought since I arrived in Kolkata. I have been caught up in the excitement of a new life, as I see G*d move in and through this community. Which is beautiful. But could I say my eyes are on Chr!st? Sadly, no.

Yesterday, I listened to a recording of my first sermon on “obedience vs. effectiveness”. Not something I do often, obviously, as it was a prophetic verbal-slap in the face, waking me up to reality (which is funny since it’s my voice doing the sanctifying assault). I think I had started to believe in being effective again. I have noticed that effectiveness is an easy struggle at my work, being a business for freedom (a good cause)…making it easy to believe in effectiveness over simple obedience regardless of result. It’s easy to get sucked into a vortex of working long hours for the pressing temporal needs that surround us and loose sight of the eternal. Nonetheless, I know better, that it is not WHAT we can do, but WHO we do it for that matters (And the HOW-action flowing out of that alone).

Today it occurred to me, the verse, “For you always have the poor with you, but you do not always have Me” (Matt 26) is not only a radical statement about the how being a follower necessitates our communion with the marginalized, but it also means that what Mary did (washing Je$u$’s feet with costly perfume) is an act that challenges disciples, then and now, to keep our eyes on Chr!st before we look to see Chr!st in the poor. (This might seem obvious, but I am relearning it). How can I expect to serve Chr!st in the distressing disguise of the poor if I bypass prayer with Him out of urgency to meet the “pressing” needs around me? I justify exchanging my time to focus on Je$u$ each day for more time with the poor (or for myself), and yet it is Je$u$ I wish to see IN the poor. Plainly stated, how can I recognize Chr!st in the poor if I don't spend time with Him?



Mary modeled this; She was “a sinner” (which takes on new meaning now that I work in the red-light district), whom Chr!st had loved and accepted. And she lavished her love on Chr!st, not sparing a dime.

During our life, this is our only opportunity to give- as the Manifest Body (since the Eternal Kingdom will have no needs to tend to). This not only means that we should take advantage of our opportunities to give now, but it also means if we are not intimate with the One we give to, we miss out on the Eternal by never having made time for God during the temporal. My heart ached as I imagined walking past Chr!st my whole life to go "serve" the poor, only to die and realize I had not developed any real love for Chr!st, but only for the poor, (or my romanticized version of them). And I saw an image of myself, upon death, realizing I had only served myself in being married to a mission that was exciting and gave me self-worth, but was distant to the Master who gave me the mission, and had left myself very foreign to a love for G*d; that is to love at all. And then it struck me, this is idolatry. All things can be made idols, even the the Sacred Kingdom. And I seem to have fallen more in love with the Kingdom of God then I have with the King.

All this leads me to this; as I transition into the red-light neighborhood, with a fresh start, I believe I need to re-cultivate a life of prayer and mental simplicity, especially at the onset of each day, so that I might not miss out on loving Chr!st in my efforts to love the poor. And then maybe, out of the overflow of my love for Chr!st, I might also learn to love my neighbor, which include the poor.

Monday, July 5, 2010

Moving into the Neighborhood

One of the greatest treasures I have found in Kolkata is my host family. I live with an elderly couple, whom I fondly call "Auntie" and "Uncle", and my host brother, Sudip, who is a local pastor. I have quickly felt at home here as Indian hospitality has a way of doing that.

A common sign in Chr!st!an homes in India

One problem: I have an hour commute to and from work each day for my part time job, which has limited my ability to spend time with the community I work in. So a few weeks ago, I began to pray for a family in Sonagacchi (the red-light district) to live with and the phrase "with a widow and an orphan" kept coming to mind.

Later that week, I told my boss (Kerry) that I was looking to move into the neighborhood. At this point, you may wonder, "Why are you moving into a red-light district?" Good question.

My Global Studies professors have taught me the importance of living amongst the people I seek to serve. This is based on Chr!st's example, who took on the form of human, that is He became one of us to show us love. And following Chr!st, I want to live like the people I seek to love.



Annie and Kerry- founders of where I work--->

When I told Kerry this, he immediately said, "I have someone I want you to meet." So we walked down the street to meet Shikha, a 26 year old widow who is a single mother of 11 year old Papiya whose father died last year of liver failure. She showed us the 10'x7' (too short to stand up in ) room she recently moved into. Upon meeting her, I immediately felt that Shikha was a joyful and warm hearted woman. She served us chai and (with my permission, as I was feeling particularly bold) Kerry told her about how I was living an hour away and looking to move into the neighborhood. Before he could say another word, she asked him, "Would she live with me?!"

She answered the question before we could ask!

Of course, I said, "Yes!" Immediately she started praising G*d and calling me her new sister. A beautiful answer to both of our prayers.

A street in Sonagacchi

Now, I will take the next month to prepare for the big transition, mainly working on my ability to speak the language. Shikha doesn't speak English, and Papya needs to learn English to stay in school (and out of the sex-trade). In that way, it will be a beautiful exchange of language learning for us all. Of course, it will come with many changes, and probably challenges, but I believe many blessings as well. Perhaps I will learn more about this right -side-up Kingdom of God that says it is actually the poor that are blessed.

Thursday, June 3, 2010

Remembering that Work is Love and Love takes Work


The work I have joined here is beautiful beyond what I had imagined. Even more remarkable is my ability to easily loose sight of the bigger picture and focus on myself. It is in my nature to quickly wish for what I no longer have; whether it be good weather, familiar friends, the ability to speak the language of most people I know, or eat foods that don't send me running to the bathroom. Some people label it homesickness; I prefer the term ungratefulness.

However, this week my eyes were opened a little to the "good and perfect gifts" G*d has showered before me;
I have the challenge and excitement of learning a new language...
a bengali family to learn hospitality from each day as they call me "daughter" and treat me as one too...
the simplicity of life in the slums and late night pillow talk with Auntie (my bed-mate)...
the adventure and growing pride in mastering 5 new forms of public transportation
the business skills I have been taught in the past month for my new job...
eating on average 3 mangoes a day, chai 4x a day, and discovering the best naan ever...
having over 150 women to love and learn love from each day.
(to name a few)

I recall the night of my going away party, a good friend of mine gave me an archaic looking poetry book. Not being the "poetry reading type," I let it collect dust for a few weeks before parting it's pages and discovered the beautiful truth between them.This book is called The Prophet, written by Kahlil Gibran.

It is also remarkable how fitting the passages of this little poetry book intertwine with my life, as I am learning let go of so much that I held dear while I simultaneously growing to embrace all things new here. G*d is patiently and gently teaching me to find myself anew in a place where no one knows me, guiding me to remember that "loosing your life to gain it" really means "loosing my life", and a life of discipleship requires a bit of discipline.

I hope this builds courage in you as much as it has me.
An excerpt from The Prophet concerning work
And I say that life is indeed darkness
save when there is urge,
And all urge is blind
save when there is knowledge
And all knowledge is vain
save when there is work
And all work is empty
save when there is love;
And when you work with love
you bind yourself to yourself, and to one another,
and to G*d.
And what is it to work with love?
It is to weave the cloth of threads drawn from your heart,
even as if your beloved were to wear that cloth.
It is to build a house with affection,
even as if your beloved were to dwell in that house.
It is to sow seeds with tenderness and reap the harvest with joy,
even as if your beloved were to eat the fruit....




Work is love made visible.
And if you cannot work with love but only with distaste,
you should leave your work
and sit at the gate of the temple
and take alms of those who work with joy.
For if you bake bread with indifference,
you bake a biter bread that feeds
but half a man's hunger.

To work, this is my prayer, that I am slowly learning to embody.

Thursday, April 1, 2010

In the Debt of Love

To continue the analogy of this Blog being written in the format of a book, this section would likely be the introduction. In this part, I mainly want introduce why I named the blog "In the Debt of Love" and then give the details of my departure. As for the names origin, as you know (if you did not skip the preface) I am financially free to go to India because an anonymous donor paid all my student debt, $105,000. In this freedom, although I cast off the burden of financial debt, in recent months I have began to desire taking on a new debt; that is the debt to love. However, this new debt is chosen, not something I submit to but actually it is where I can find the greatest riches.

You see, much of the past 2 months I have been consumed by the book Works of Love by Soren Kerkegaard. Besides the B!ble, honestly this is the only book that I can say has changed my life. It has broken my heart and humiliated me on so many levels as I have discovered the truth about what it means to love, which in contrast means learning, to my dismay, that much of what I thought was love was actually selfishness.

One of the major themes is that Chr!$tiaN love, the only true love, means to love solely because we are commanded to "Love our neighbor as our self". Therefore it is rooted in the duty to love our neighbor and because it is a duty is not affected by how our object of love (the other person) behaves, changes, or treats us in return. And furthermore, because it is a duty to love our "neighbor" that includes all people and excludes no one, and we are not to prefer loving one person over the other, for that is preferential and exclusive to our neighbors, meaning it is not love. I was astounded to learn that Chr!$tian love is quite contrary to a friendship, family, love interests, or even marriage. It does not prefer the rich nor does it prefer the poor, neither the important nor the unimportant, the extraordinary nor the simple. Those loves are preferential (meaning you chose some people over others) and conditional (meaning dependant on how they treat you in return or fulfill the potential you desire for them) and temporal (meaning it will always blossom and always die).

But Chr!$tian love, actual love, is eternal because it is rooted in obeying the command "to love your neighbor", and the command never stops saying, "Love your neighbor". Loving out of duty causes a shift in our love-need, from our love-need is to be loved by others in return, to our love-need is to love others. In fact, the greater the need is to love our neighbor, the greater are our riches in love. And this is the debt of love.

It is the acknowledgement that you could never love someone enough. And in doing so, you also could never stop and compare how they love you with how you love them, for to do so would be to think you are somehow repaying the eternal debt to love, which means you have not loved eternally, or Chr!st!anly, or your neighbor.

To say the least, this is a great challenge; To love my neighbor in the debt of love. As I enter into my time in India, this will mean loving the oppressed and the oppressor. It will mean loving those who are easy to love and those you are not. It will mean guarding myself from loving some people more than others, for to do so would mean I am not seeing them as my neighbor. And it will mean loving despite how I am treated in return because I am loving my neighbor to love G*d, not so they love me back. This keeps G*d as the bond between us. This makes it Chr!st!an love.

So this is my task: Last night I accepted a part time position with an org as their Customer Care Representative. As mentioned previously, I begin my work May 4th. Since it is part time, I will have spare time to learn Bengali, and the culture, and about my host family. As my language ability increases, I will be able to get more involved with the women in the red-light district. By far the greatest challenge in all of this will be to love my neighbor in the debt of love. I named my blog this as a reminder to be earnest of only one thing; loving my neighbor. For it is the eternal duty, rooted in the debt of love.