I Can Hear Mexico Calling
Following the call as a YAGM through the ELCA
Mexico is a predominantly Catholic nation, yet by chance, I moved into a Jewish town with a Lutheran family. This family is so religiously diverse. My host parents are Lutheran, yet within the extended family there are Messianic Jews, Mormons, Catholics, and Evangelicals. Living with so many different spiritual perspectives has definitely challenged my assumptions about religiosity in Mexico. When I moved in with the Lutheran side of the family, I also moved into a new church home. For many generations, my host family has worshipped with a bilingual, Lutheran congregation called, Buen Pastor (Good Shepherd). There are only about 10-20 people in attendance on a given Sunday, yet they have a profound sense of community and commitment to this church. Much of this has to do with the pastor there who welcomes everyone individually and connects with them mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. Meet Rev. Miguel (shown in picture), who comes from El Salvador and sees social justice as being directly linked to spirituality. I’ve only heard four sermons from Miguel, but in each one he applies scripture to current-day power structures, to the 43 missing students who are among many others that have not seen justice, and constantly emphasizes that all relationships and situations are not just between people, but between people and God. Today, Miguel preached on Mark 9:38-50 in which Jesus says, “If your hand causes you to stumble, cut it off. It is better for you to enter life maimed than with two hands to go into hell…” These are often noted as harsh words from Jesus, however Miguel offered the interpretation of our hands, legs, eyes, etc. as metaphors for our pride, power, greed, and privilege which keep us from the peace and humility of an authentic relationship with God and with others. Issues of privilege and power have been on my mind a lot lately, both as I follow the news in the U.S. and as I wrestle with the power and privilege that I have here in Mexico. My mind began to spin thinking about if we apply this interpretation to other bodily metaphors in scripture—from being the body of the church to recognizing our bodies as temples of the holy spirit. The hymn “Take my Life and Let It Be” came to mind as it consecrates one’s hands, feet, and voice to God. I was struck by this. What would happen if we consecrated our whole selves to God?—not just the parts that are easy to offer, but the parts of ourselves that we try to deny. What would happen if we consecrated our pride, power, and privilege? What would that mean? And how might that change our society? I certainly don’t have the answers, but I think that’s a big part of what we are being asked to do as YAGM volunteers. We are asked to acknowledge our privilege—even the fact that it is a privilege to be able to leave our country, to travel, to pause our lives in the U.S. and begin new ones in a new community, and that it is a privilege to choose to serve. I am so thankful for Miguel for challenging my faith each week, for reminding me that God is not limited by borders or language barriers, for teaching me that scripture is truly a living word and that it speaks to us today regardless of our social, political, or spiritual contexts, and for encouraging me to evaluate how my faith in God intersects with my worldly privilege.
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Workaholism is not unique to the U.S. I have heard many stories of people in my town working ten or twelve hour shifts three days a week as maids, bus drivers, waiters, etc. The work culture in Mexico City is high stress and long hours. All my assumptions that it would be more laidback—that work would be a part of life but not all of life—are being tested and proven wrong. There are huge pressures to be employed. Mexican culture highly values hard work. There is a beauty to this, but it also seems to clash with other strongly held values, such as the value of family. For example, I unfortunately have a two-hour commute to one of my job sites. As I was voicing my frustration about this, I found out that my supervisor travels two or three hours each way to and from work. She leaves at 6:30 in the morning and gets home at 8 or later. This means that she gets home just in time to put her one-year-old to sleep. Family and hard work are two strong, yet conflicting values. It’s as if people are forced to choose between providing for their family and spending time with their family. This is so similar to the United States. When I travel, I often expect things to be different from what I know, but more often than not, it surprises me how similar things are. It makes me wonder if caffeine addictions and workaholism are also part of the human condition. I have almost completed my first week of work in Mexico, and while I am surprised at the work culture, I also learned firsthand how the values of work and family can coincide. My host brother has generously offered to take me to and from work all week to teach me how to get around via public transit. This is a large task because I have to learn how to get to three different locations and each one takes a little more time. The closest is an hour away and the furthest is two hours. Today he traveled eight hours on public transit (as he went home midday) so that he could make sure that I got to work ok and to make sure that I could get home. He has been so generous with his time! This has been an incredible example of accompaniment! Whether in conversation or silence, he has accompanied me. In crowds and on solitary streets, he as accompanied me. My host brother has given me a sense of security and confidence in the city that would have taken a long time for me to develop on my own. Today he told me that I’m his sister and that he doesn’t mind spending all this time helping me now because it will make things easier and safer in the long run. This is where those values overlap, where generosity and work ethic and family values intersect, and today this overlap became accompaniment. For the last week of orientation, we are staying at a hospitality house that is essentially a convent. I have met so many incredible nuns. They each have stories of feeling called to ministry, to spend their lives serving God in the Catholic Church. Almost all of the nuns are old. Mealtime is met with a parade of canes and walkers. Most of them are in their eighties and nineties—hard of hearing and soft spoken, yet they all are bad asses in their own way. These are women who have dedicated themselves to social justice, to spirituality, and have created their own path for their lives—defying the machista values of their society. Spending this week with them has made me question a lot of things about Catholicism as well as my own faith. These nuns, as well as much of Mexico, follow the Virgin of Guadalupe who comes from a story of the Virgin Mary coming to an indigenous man, named Juan Diego, in Mexico in 1531 and calls him to build a church. The Virgin of Guadalupe represents many things to the people of Mexico. What people often focus on is that she is known for appearing as a mestiza, which is a combination of the Spanish and indigenous race. This is important because the majority of Mexicans are mestizo, and therefore connect with her since she came to them as one of them. This is powerful, yet I believe it is even more powerful that she comes to the people in the social peripheries, to the marginalized and oppressed. The story of her coming to Juan Diego represents that all people are called by God, not just the powerful and privileged. On a deeper level, the story of the Virgin of Guadalupe contrasts with the historical context. In 1531, the Spaniards had just recently come to Mexico and tried to convert the native Nahua people “with the cross in one hand and a sword in the other.” The Virgin of Guadalupe demonstrates that building Christian community is about welcoming people, empowering them, and loving them. I went with the other volunteers to the Basilica which hold relics and art of the Virgin of Guadalupe. Part of her story is that she tells Juan Diego to fill his cloak with flowers to bring to the priest as proof of her presence. When Juan Diego arrives with the flowers, a gust of wind comes by which blows away the petals and leaves an image of the Virgin of Guadalupe. This cloak is displayed at the Basilica (as shown in the picture). When I saw it, I thought it was a painting, but I am told it was a miracle. I don’t know if I fully believe the story or if I’m ready to pray to her as the nuns have encouraged me to do, but her message for building God’s kingdom on Earth is undeniably profound. |
AuthorMy name is Kathryn Ophardt. I am spending this year in Mexico City as a Young Adult for Global Mission with the Evangelical Lutheran Church of America. During this year of service, I'll be working with the non-profit, Casa Refugiados. Archives
October 2018
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