Ministry and Power

I have come to think of all ministry as accompaniment; whether one accompanies someone who is dying, or accompanies someone in spiritual direction, or accompanies a community in their struggle for human rights and justice, it is all ministry. And those of us who are in the role of accompaniers have a lot of power, and we need to spend a good bit of time thinking about how we use it, or do not use it.

When I was in San Miguel Ixtahuacan, in Guatemala, I stayed with a Mam woman named Maudilia. Maudilia is a lay pastoral worker for the Catholic church there, working mostly around empowerment of women. It is hard to find an empowered woman here, in this machista society. Most women seem like not much more than slaves to their husbands and children. Anyway, I consider Maudilia to be a peer, and was really happy to be staying with her, for reasons I probably do not have to spell out. Just nice to have a woman to connect with.

On my first day in her house, which is a parish house, Maudilia asked me to pay for the gas to operate her stove, which I did. On the third day she asked me fora loan of 200 quetzales (truthfully, I am not sure how much that is in dollars--a little more than $25). I gave it to her, even though I was sure it was not really a loan, because I felt that I was in her house and did not have much choice, and because I did not know what else to do. Then I thought about it, and realized that I was going to have to talk to her, because the requests for money were likely not going to end. An important fact is that I was already paying her a nightly rate to stay in her house (which is only fair, although somewhat foreign to our North American culture).

So I talked with her, and although I think it went okay, she was upset afterward. I told her that I was there as a volunteer and that I also have limited funds. Truthfully, the whole thing made me feel like nothing more than a money tree, which is not the same thing as friendship. So neither of us was feeling very good. Plus, I was having a hard time in the town, lots of really ugly sexual harrassment, and at one point a group of three extremely drunk or drugged out teenagers harrassed me and asked for money. I thought they were going to rob me. And because the situation was tense with Maudilia, I was mostly going around by myself.

On Sunday I went to Mass, where Maudilia does practically everything except preside. (Perhaps some of you can relate to this?) It was awesome, bilingual in Mam and Spanish, great music. The pastor denounced the presence of the US military in San Marcos from the altar. He said what everyone here says: what are foreign troops doing on our soil? It would be like if Mexico dropped 1000 troops in Seward, Nebraska (the rural area where my grandparents live). There would be a massive public outcry, but here Guatemalans feel they have no power in the face of the massive economic power of the United States.

Anyway I did pray and reflect in Mass about what to do about my relationship with Maudilia. And a funny thing happened later in the day. I was fixing my bed, with the door in my room open to the back yard. I was fixing my bedding because there was a massive bug problem and I am literally covered with bites from God knows what (but that is another story). The back door was open, and I noticed that there were some sheep back there grazing, and I got worried that they were going to come into the house--and I really did not need any more critters in my room. So I went to close the door, and instead of just closing it, I stepped outside and pulled the door closed, thereby locking myself out.

Good move! Luckily, I knew that Maudilia was still at church, preparing for the last Mass of the day. So I went over there, sat through another Mass, and then told her what happened. She was enormously entertained, as was every member of her extended family, all of whom were present to hear the story. They made fun of me all the way to her sisters house (where the extra key was). At one point I said something about appreciating that they were saving me from my stupidity, and her brother-in-law looked at me and said: It is not stupid, it is normal. And ever since them my relationship with Maudilia, and her entire extended family, has been great.

So it made me think about what the barriers are to friendship in this multi-cultural situation, and I realized that the biggest barrier is power, in this case represented by their perception, true of course, that I have vastly more money than they. But what broke down the barrier was me doing something really human and "normal."

On Dying

I am back in Omaha now, to be with my family for the holidays and with my grandmother during what are probably her last days on earth. I experience this time with her as graced time, and it is a blessing to be able to be here. It is the same way I felt two years ago, when I was able to be with my grandfather as he was dying. My grandmother and I have had some great conversations about the meaning of life and death which are a comfort to both of us.

The dying give us a great gift which we may not be aware of, and that they also are not aware of. They invite us to be better than we are, to face our fears ofour own mortality, to set aside whatever "issues" we may have with them, and be present to them during the most vulnerable part of their lives.

In this context, I have been reflecting anew on the Mary-Martha story in Luke 10:38-42. I remember past scripture reflection groups, where people got upset about this passage, because Martha seems to be the one performing the most useful tasks, while Jesus claims that Mary has taken the better path. This scripture has been problematic for me for a different reason: because I identify most with Mary, who sits in the living room while her sister does all the dishes. Even though Jesus claims that Mary has chosen the better way, what is a Mary supposed to do with her life that is useful? And you cannot spend too much time sitting in the living room while someone else does all the work without getting people mad at you. Anyway, it seems that Mary's is a ministry of presence, which is how I experience being with my grandmother, and is also how I experience accompaniment work. In the end, ministry is fundamentally about presence. Yes, we have to get the dishes done, but Jesus understood that Mary had chosen the true path of ministry.