"I can't stand your religious meetings"

I used to make fun of the Message paraphrase Bible. Okay, well, I didn't make fun of it... but there was a passage that I thought was funny.

Psalm 6:1-3 ESV

"O Lord, rebuke me not in your anger, nor discipline me in your wrath. Be gracious to me, O Lord, for I am languishing; heal me, O Lord, for my bones are troubled. My soul also is greatly troubled. But you, O Lord- how long?

Psalm 6:1-3 The Message

"Please, God, no more yelling, no more trips to the woodshed. Treat me nice for a change; I'm so starved for affection. Can't you see I'm black and blue, beat up badly in bones and soul? God, how long will it take for you to let up?"

Now, that, I simply found funny.

But I was also "against" The Message. I've changed my mind now. Though it's important to view it as what it is. A paraphrase. It's one man's, Eugene Peterson, thoughts and interpretations of the scripture. Most translations have nearly or more than 100 different translators working together. The Message would never be my sole version of the scripture... but reading it along side a more accurate translation can be beneficial.

I still think The Message wording in Psalm 6 is funny. However, a lot less funny, in fact, it seems to step on my toes til it hurts, is a passage in Amos.

Amos 5:21-24 The Message

"I can't stand your religious meetings. I'm fed up with your conferences and conventions. I want nothing to do with your religion projects, your pretentious slogans and goals. I'm sick of your fund-raising schemes, your public relations and image making. I've had all I can take of your noisy ego-music. When was the last time you sang to me? Do you know what I want? I want justice- oceans of it. I want fairness- rivers of it. That's what I want. That's all I want."

Yeah. Ouch.

i'm not a survivor

I don't think of myself as a Haiti earthquake survivor. Yes, I was there. Yes, I lived through it. The dictionary says a survivor is "a person remaining alive after an event in which others have died". So I guess that would make me a survivor. But, I think of a survivor as someone who fought to live. Who struggled through and made it out. As horrific of an experience as the earthquake was for me... my story does not even compare to others. I wasn't not in a building that collapsed. I was not injured. I was not buried alive or stuck somewhere for days. I didn't lose any family members. I didn't lose my house or my possessions. I didn't go without food or water. Those are the survivors.

my moto rides

We don't have a car or truck... so my main transportation since moving here as been by motorcycle (referred to simply as "moto" here). Up until recently, it was by moto taxi... until some friends that were in Haiti short term gave us the moto they had bought here. Thank you Tim and Ruth Weber!!

I love my moto rides. My time on the moto is sacred, really. For one reason or another, I am always drawn to reflect, ponder, muse and contemplate life, God, friends, poverty and justice.

I see this

and this...

and I'm in awe of the beauty of God's creation. I mean, it is gorgeous. I also see beauty in the faces we drive by. But then, sometimes I become angry. Where is the freaking justice??! These people have a crazy hard life. Daily, they walk up and down a mountain just to get water & food for their family. They struggle to get by each day. Life is simply about surviving to them. Shouldn't life be about more than just surviving?? Why do some people have all pleasures and comforts they could possible want... while others just hope to make it through the day. This makes me angry. I usually go full cycle on my moto rides though. I see the struggle and the injustice and get angry. I see the beauty and the unbreakable spirit of the people and I'm filled with amazement and awe. 

I love my moto rides. 

legliz

Many of us here in Haiti joke about how much we dread going to church. Okay, it's really not a joke. It's just not fun. Yes, yes, I get it. The purpose of church isn't to have fun. But let me tell you a little bit about church in Haiti. Also, keep in mind that I don't speak Creole, so I don't even know what's going on most of the time (although Gwenn tells me I'm probably better off not knowing what's being said).

It is hot. I know. Some of you think it's hot where you live, too. You look at the weather widget on your phone or computer and think, "hey, it's the same temp here as it is in Haiti. Why do those people complain so much?"I'm not going to go on too long about the weather. Let me just say- WE DON'T HAVE AIR CONDITIONING. When I go to our church in the village, we have to walk a small part of the way (not nearly as much as most ppl probably walk to get there). I'm covered in sweat when we get there. We go inside. But not to escape the heat in a nice cool building. We go inside to a cramped one-room building. We don't even have fans. It's freaking hot!!

A few things I noticed about our church in the village that are probably different than your church in the states.

First, I walk through someone's yard, corn fields, and past chickens & goats to get there. When we get there, someone leads us to our seats. I guess the best term for these people is "ushers"... however their name tags say "officer". And I think "officer" is much more fitting. Through-out the service, they watch for people sleeping or slouching or doing anything not appropriate for church by their standards and they will poke them or nudge them or pull their shoulders back so they are sitting up straight. They are much more disruptive than the person slouching was! If you are a visitor, they will make you stand and introduce yourself. I was visiting at the Mangine's church this past Sunday... and apparently, they do the same thing. It's awkward and weird. Almost as awkward and weird as the "shake the hands of the people around you" time in the states (i HATE that!!!). The service is long. Our church has a Sunday School from 8-9, then the regular service is 9-11:30/12ish. The church etiquette police stay busy. During the service, an old woman gets up to spit out the window. That's normal in the states too, right?? Our church also has a "special" clap. We use it after the visitors introduce themselves. And... I'm not really sure when else they use it. I just join in when they start it. Most churches believe that women need to keep their heads covered in church. If they don't have a head wrap or scarf, they just put a wash cloth on their head. I wondered what that was about at first... I thought it was maybe just a handy place to keep their sweat rag! The pastor says stuff and we repeat it. Like "mesi Jezi" (thank you Jesus) over and over.

And that's really just a starting list of what makes Haiti church different.

Some more specifics from Gwenn's church this week. The first few minutes (well, more than a few minutes) they announced how many visitors and how much offering each Sunday School class had. And then the class that had the most visitors gets a banner, same w/ the class with the most offering. There was lots of singing. It was during part of the singing, where for a split second I thought, "This isn't so bad. Why do we always dread church again?". I was enjoying the moment. Seeing the beauty in the people around me. Watching them sway their hips and step to the music, waving their arms and singing loudly. It was good. But then that song got over. And we moved on to other announcements or something else less exciting.

Oh, and this part is very much like it is in the States... you just wouldn't expect it here. People judge each other based on what they are wearing. A lady walked down the aisle before the service started and I heard the women next to me point out a spot on her skirt. During a song, a lady went to fix the collar for a woman a few pews in front of her. I also heard the women next to me point out when a Boujwa (creole spelling of bourgeois. The "elite" in Haiti) woman remained seated while everyone else was standing. Through missionaries over the years, we've pushed some of our western civilization ideas and traditions on the developing countries. You have to look nice in church. If you don't have the proper attire, don't even bother going. So even here, where people struggle to get by each day, they make sure to have a decent outfit for Sunday. And if they don't, they will for sure be ridiculed. Okay, sorry, enough on that tangent.

An older woman (well, not just "older". She was old.) that was blind and very possible deaf to got up to sing a special. It... was very special. Off-key and all of the place... but she sang loud and proud. Though there might have been a few snickers when she hit the high notes, everyone clapped for her when she was done.

At 12:45, it seemed like things were wrapping up. I wondered at which point when someone was up there speaking it was the sermon. I didn't really notice anything like a sermon, but figured it had been in there somewhere. No. At that time, the Pastor got up to preach. Thankfully (as we'd been there for 3 hrs now), the message was only around 15 minutes. And then the service quickly wrapped up after that.

And that is my very brief overview of church in Haiti. I'm sure after more weeks in church, there will be more posts to follow this one.

PAP vs. Jacmel

I'm not in Port au Prince anymore, that's for sure. That has pros and cons. Mostly pros. :)  I love living outside of the city! However, there are a few things that I'm still getting used to. In Port au Prince, there are huge, nice super markets everywhere. Okay, not everywhere, but there are a lot of them. Pre-quake, the Caribbean Market was just a walk away from me. You could get anything at the Caribbean Market. Oh and then there was Mega Mart!! It's like a Sams Club (they even check your receipt when you leave!). And those were just the two markets I frequented the most. But there were other options.

There is no Caribbean Market here. Or anything even close. The closest market is probably a 10-15 minute moto ride. Which isn't bad. And I'm getting use to it. My selection, that is. When you are use to the Caribbean Market... this place has got nothing. I mean nothing. So in the market department, the city spoiled me.

But I love where I live. Depending on where you're at in the city, and if city power is on, you can still see the starts pretty good in Port. But nothing like it is here. AND nothing beats star gazing while laying out by the ocean. Have I mentioned lately that if I walk across the street, I'm on the beach? Cause I am. :)

And I love the village that we live near. Tavet. It's nothing like walking through the city. I mean, obviously, cause there's grass and trees, not buildings. But the people are different. Sure, I'm still the white person. That will never change. But I feel like I get called "blan" at least slightly less often. And instead of everyone coming up to me asking for me to give them something (again, not that that doesn't happen) but more often, people are offering things to me.

Port, it was nice knowing you. We had a good time. But I'm sorry. Our relationship is over. I've found something better. Known as Cayes Jacmel, Haiti!!