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| Photo by Mary Cole-Duval |
I have now had two and a
half months to begin to reflect on the journey four of us were fortunate to
take to the Diocese of Nzara in South Sudan in February. Our journey was
sponsored by the Diocese of Iowa through the One World, One Church
commission. We went at the request of
Bishop Samuel Peni as a delegation to represent the Diocese of Iowa at the
Standing Committee meeting in the Diocese of Nzara. My traveling companions were the Revs. Robert
North (St. Mark’s, Maquoketa), Mary Cole Duvall (St. Timothy’s, West Des
Moines), and Suzanne Peterson (Trinity, Waterloo). But these reflections are my own. I am quite sure they have equally powerful
but different reflections of their own.
We have a formal, companion relationship between our
Diocese and the Diocese of Nzara. When
we have a relationship with someone, it implies that we know who the other person
is and they know us. We spend time
together. We learn that person’s story
and they learn ours. The more intimate
the relationship is, the more time we spend together, the more we reveal of
ourselves, the more vulnerable we are.
When we are committed to a relationship, we nurture it and care for it –
in good times and in bad.
If
we are to form a relationship with people half a world away – not just in
distance, but in language and customs and everyday life – we have to have the
courage to put ourselves in their place, not only to hear their story from afar
but to see their story up close. And
perhaps to expose some of the poverty of our own lives as well. That’s hard to do. But we are called to it, not only by our
diocesan relationship, but because they are, as we are, children of God. So how do we do that?
It
seems to me that the first part is just being there and experiencing the
reality of life as it is lived by these very special people. Of course, we were honored guests and so we
didn’t really experience the fullness of their lives. We were given hot water every morning and
evening with which we could rinse ourselves and “bathe.” The two or three oscillating electric fans, when
the electricity was working, were always pointed at us. We had plentiful bottled water. We never experienced hunger. We were never in
danger.
But
we did get a taste of life as it is lived in Nzara and what we experienced was
a close-knit community that, of necessity, depends on each other for
survival. They share what they have.
Bishop
Samuel’s brother visited one day and the Bishop introduced him to us as “the
son of my mother.” We thought that a
very strange way to speak of his brother and asked him why he didn’t just
introduce him as “my brother.” He replied
that all of these people surrounding him were his brothers and his sisters, but
this particular person was related to him because he was also the son of his
mother. I thought that we here in Iowa
might occasionally speak of “our brothers and sisters” when we are gathered
together at a church function, but I’m not sure we really mean it. I think Bishop Samuel does.
I
discovered that sometimes there’s freedom in lack of choice. We Westerners tend to think that having
choices is a good thing and the more choices the better. We forget that choices can sometimes be
paralyzing. Choosing itself can take up
a lot of our time. Sometimes when we
have finally chosen, we begin to regret that we didn’t make a different
choice. That’s a lot of energy! When there’s no choice, we take what we are
given with gratitude, because we are glad that we have something. God’s story is frequently a story of
privation – people wandering in the desert, hungry people by the side of a sea
in Galilee. That’s frequently the story
of the people of Nzara too. Our story is,
sometimes, of privation as well, but not for material goods, like food and
water. No. Our privations are of the spirit. “Now that I have all this stuff, what am I to
do with it? Why don’t I feel good?” Can we too get to the place where we can
learn from those who find joy with so little in material goods?
It
seems to me that there is in the Diocese of Nzara a wholly different
perspective regarding bad things that happen to good people. We here in this very rich country tend to
think that our lives should just roll along and everything should go well. When things don’t go well, our tendency is to
ask, “Why me?” Some of us wonder how a
good God could let these awful things happen.
But
in South Sudan, where virtually everyone is beset by problems difficult for us
even to imagine, it doesn’t seem to me that people ask, “Why me?” and wonder
where God is. They accept that both good
things and bad things are a part of life for everyone and God is with us through
it all.
Bishop
Samuel is always delighted to receive the gifts we bring (T-shirts and dresses
and soccer balls and uniforms for the children; vestments and altar hangings
and bicycles for the clergy on this trip).
But he doesn’t easily see all that we get from him and from the South
Sudanese people when we come to visit.
These things aren’t material; they are attitudinal and spiritual. The beauty of true community; the gladness of
heart that we feel when we are greeted enthusiastically each day; the smiles
and laughter. Simple pleasures? Yes. Simple
to achieve? Maybe not so easy for us.
By Jeanie Smith, Deacon, St. Timothy’s, West
Des Moines
