I Can Hear Mexico Calling
Following the call as a YAGM through the ELCA
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.
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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. This has been a long week — a roller-coaster of feeling empowered and enthusiastic, and for doubting absolutely everything. I spent yesterday mostly doubting, doubting this mission, doubting why anyone around the world would want to welcome foreigners into their home, workplace, and community. I was doubting who I am to think that I should go or be a part of this mission. As I was spiraling yesterday, I laid down in the grass during a break, looking at the sky and branches above me, literally grounding myself amidst my racing thoughts when a hymn came to mind, as if it had been placed on my forehead specifically by the wind: “We are called to serve one another. We are called to love tenderly. We are called to act with justice, To walk humbly with God.” I sang that to myself for a little while, quietly making my own Taize service in the public square. These words reminded me that we are all called, that it really doesn’t matter that I specifically am going to Mexico, but that God filled me with a willing heart and that various people of Mexico have chosen to welcome me, and that’s all that matters. I’ve decided that I believe in this mission as a reminder that our neighbors are around the world. I believe that through the grace that we extend to one another in developing a new relationship that we create the opportunity for healing from the wounds of our histories—both shared and independent. I’m going to Mexico through the ELCA because I believe in a global community and I believe that it can be healed. Last night, I was back on board and feeling ready to embark on this journey of accompaniment. We had a beautiful worship service that asserted that our baptism is the origin of our calling and commission. Last night, I was ready. We left for the airport at 1:45 AM and arrived at O’Hare International Airport at 2:30 AM, met by empty check-in counters. We learned that the airport didn’t open until 4:30 AM… So there we sat, silently sitting on the hard floor of the airport entrance, staring at the empty check-in desks as they passively mocked our exhaustion and worldly aspirations. Yet, in some ways, I was thankful for this. It was another example that I can always turn back—another example of me being forced to assert again and again that I am committed to this. I am regularly forced to sit in the discomfort of my decisions, taunted by the ideas of getting off the cold floor and going back to the warmth of familiarity. But there I sat, while my legs went numb, feeling exhausted, frustrated, and a little empowered. I am happy to announce that as I write this, I am sitting in the comfort of carved wooden sofa in a yellow living room in Mexico City. The image at the beginning of this post was flying over the Gulf of Mexico and this picture was taken as we flew into Mexico City. This is clearly a beautiful and diverse country. I am so thankful to be here and am so thankful that we all arrived safely! The time is quickly approaching for me to move to Mexico. More specifically, the moment is quickly approaching in which I will step outside of my comfort zone, outside of my city and country, and into the open arms of our neighbors in Mexico. I eagerly and anxiously await this moment. I am full of anticipation. I've been reflecting a lot on how I feel about this next adventure, about uprooting myself from the life that I've built here, about what I need in order to feel ready for this next season of life. The more I think about it, the more these couple weeks before departure remind me of Advent. They remind me of this spiritual season of preparation and anticipation for changes and transformations that I cannot possibly fathom. Realizations like this remind me that I cannot possibly feel prepared. Any kind of preparedness would be an illusion. All I can do is make myself ready to be malleable, make myself ready to let go of the comforts of control, and make myself ready to act from a heart of service first and foremost. I cannot prepare because I don't know what to prepare for. I am walking into the unknown. I don't know the details of my living situation, the names of my host family, the logistics of my job placements, or even the flight information getting from Chicago to Mexico City. All I know is that I have a group of people waiting for me, welcoming me into their home, their workplace, and their mission. This is a huge exercise in trust. The picture of the rainbow at the top of the page is one that I took after my first day of classes in Costa Rica. I was a wreck! I was afraid and regretting my choice to study abroad. I walked out of the academic building and saw this rainbow. Lots of people were out looking at it and I asked if this was common. They said, "Oh yeah, this happens all the time!" But that was the only time I saw a rainbow in Costa Rica. That rainbow reminded me that God is real, that God is ever-present and without borders. It reminded me that God would provide. It's with that rainbow that I walk into this year of service, trusting that God with work through me, provide for me, and transform me. |
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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