Giving Thanks – from Jake Pinkston on teaching mission in Honduras

For American families, Thanksgiving is synonymous with turkey, stuffing (or dressing if you prefer) and of course football. For the first time since I can remember, I did not watch any football on Thanksgiving (too busy) but I definitely had a “futbol” moment that has made me very thankful.

Futbol, or soccer to those living north of Mexico, is the passion of Honduras and every boy at Trinity spends his free moments playing on the concrete patio in the center of the school. Consequently, many balls end up stuck on the roof of the office that doubles as a backstop for errant shots. The afternoon before Thanksgiving, with the smell of turkey everywhere as Veronica prepared for the feast, one of the students asked me to go get a ball off the roof so the he could play. Never one to pass up the opportunity to climb anything, I proceeded to ascended from the terrace of the secondary school onto the roof of the office. As placed my foot on the roof, there was a crack and suddenly I was sitting on the roof, my foot dangling in space and the secretary looking up through the hole I just kicked through the ceiling. Apparently the roof has been bad for some time and several people have actually fallen all the way through. I only broke two panels so it was a quick fix but everyone was very thankful that I did not end up landing on the tile floor. I did get the ball though…

We have not had classes at Trinity since Wednesday to celebrate Thanksgiving and for the national elections that took place on Sunday. The students were still required to come in on Thursday for a half day of school. Even though it is not a holiday in Honduras, Veronica likes to celebrate Thanksgiving as a school because of its message and to show the students a side of American culture that isn't fast food and action movies. After an all-school Holy Eucharist, the kids hung out while half the teachers got everything ready for the big lunch. My first job was to help peel about 40 lbs. of boiled potatoes so we could mash them, using only my fingernails. I did not ask why they were not peeled before hand or where a peeler might be found; I just put my head down and started scratching. It took forever and I was thrilled when Veronica asked me to come with her to get my masher because the food processor was not producing the desired results. We also picked up carving knives. When I got into the kitchen, I saw four large turkeys and lots of kids sitting impatiently at long tables in the auditorium wondering when they were going to get fed. I washed my hands, grabbed to sharpest knife in the pile and went to work.

Luckily I have had plenty of training from my dear old dad but this was a little more quantity than the Pinkston household has ever had. I am not sure how Veronica managed to get four 20lbs + turkeys to La Ceiba(turkey is not a common food choice) but there wasn’t really time to ask questions. After removing all the limbs, I got into a good rhythm making big, thin slices of white meat. However, I realized that there was no way to make the dark meat look pretty and the kids probably wouldn’t care anyways. So I grabbed a paring knife, cut off any piece I could get a hold of and piled it on the tray. This went on for more than an hour nonstop. I cleaned every little piece of meat off the bird then moved on, the plates of meat disappearing as faster than I could replenish them. My back was turned to the auditorium so I never even got to see the kids eat but I guess they liked it. By the time I left the kitchen with my plate of meat, potatoes and stuffing (salad on Thanksgiving, not a chance), the only people left in the auditorium were the teachers and all the kids had gone home.

I promptly wolfed down my plate, washing it all down with about a half bottle of apple juice. My hands were so tired that they were shaking as I lifted my glass. It started pouring rain so I hung around for a bit, hoping it would let up. I hitched a ride home with the math teacher, who lives in the same barrio as I do. My feet still got wet crossing the river between the sidewalk and car but it certainly beat the alternative. I walked in the door at around 1pm, fell onto my leopard print bed, and did not wake up until 6 pm when Veronica called to tell me she would be picking me up in 10 minutes for Thanksgiving, round two. Veronica always invites people who don’t have any nearby family to join hers for the holiday. This was much more laid back family affair, with seven adults and six kids total. I got to carve their turkey too, but it was much smaller so it didn’t take much time. I just was happy to be able to sit down and enjoy it with everyone this time around.

Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday because of the food, the family and the reflection it brings about. This year, I have plenty to be thankful for: the health and safety of my family and their unfailing support of me in all my pursuits; Veronica Flowers and Trinity Episcopal School for giving me the opportunity to connect with students and learn how to teach; Javier, Nelson (the organist), and all my soccer buddies who do their best to give me some semblance of a social life; and Mike and Betty, who have adopted me as their Honduran son and always provide an ear to my daily frustrations. Most of all, I am thankful for my family at St. James Episcopal Church. I would not be here if it weren’t for your generous support and prayers. Even on the toughest, worst days, I think back on the applause I received the last time I was with the St. James’ congregation. I feel like I have my own long distance cheering squad pushing me onward and that’s what I do. I am truly blessed and honored to be part of such a dynamic congregation. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Turning the Power On – from Jake Pinkston on teaching mission in Honduras

As I type, the sounds of smooth Latin love songs are shaking the table that my laptop is sitting on. All around me there are teens in skinny jeans and mothers trooping around herds of children. There is a stiff breeze from the industrial fan above my head and I am overcome with the smells of fried food and disinfectant. Where am I? Why the food court at the Mall of course, the only place within two square miles that has power right now.

It seems the power company is changing out some of the telephone poles that have been massacred by termites with concrete ones. This is a rather delicate task as the preferred method of telecommunications maintenance is just put a new wire next to the one that isn’t working and call it a day. Moving the tangled spider web is an all day affair however so I have had to relocate in order to get my work done. As there is no public library to speak of in the city and my favorite coffee shop is also off the grid, my next best option was a table across from Pop-Eye’s next to the twinkling Christmas tree with massive ornaments (it has a power outlet). Honduras just scored a goal on the television. People are going nuts!

I have been having trouble the last few weeks with the internet connection at my house and loading my blog entries onto the St. James website. I think it is sorted out for now though. I have posted my blogs for the last two weeks below for your reading pleasure.

The new after school tutoring program got off the ground this week which is exciting. The goal of the program is to identify the students that are failing or very close to failing, get some extra time in to figure out what is going on and hopefully turn it around. The students have to stay after school for an hour once a week for every subject they have below a 75 until the midterm (most of the participants are repeat offenders), when if they have pulled up their grades, they are no longer required to attend. Each of my science classes has a day for review while math and English are also participating.

The eighth grade managed to use a chaotic end of the day on Tuesday to run out the door before I could gently remind them that they had to stay after so I did not get to work with them. I cannot say I was disappointed as they had been bouncing off the walls all day but I will make sure to get them next week.

Wednesday was complicated by the two hour, after school detention that the entire secondary school got for misbehaving during their chorus classes over the past few weeks. My 7th grade after-school group ended up being the entire class. The first hour was actually really fun as we reviewed for the upcoming Life Science quiz on the chemistry of organisms. I set up a jeopardy game on the board and split the class into teams to answer questions using their notebooks. It got a little out of hand at the end as the students were getting a little over competitive and apparently I was not doing a very good job keeping the scores straight but it was an effective review.

The next hour was a bit of a challenge for multiple reasons. The teachers who imposed the detention had commitments and could not stay for the full time, which left myself and Veronica watching 4 classes. The students normally don’t eat breakfast, eat their main meal at 9:40 then eat as soon as they go home at 2pm. At 3:30, they were all flipping out because they did not bring food for detention and were dying of starvation. It did not help that 10th grader girls had found a way to have Wendy’s delivered and were eating it while walking by the classroom. I was very happy when 4:00pm finally came around and we could all go home.

Thursday and Friday were also all school detention but went a lot more smoothly. I spent Thursday with the 10th grade reviewing dimensional analysis, which just a fancy way of saying converting quantities from one unit to another. I put six problems on the board and they worked through them, yelling at me to come over and help them now and again. I had a great time because by the fourth problem they had figured it out and were just calling me over for a pat on the back and to lecture me on why I should find a Honduran girlfriend. I spent a half hour on Friday talking with the four boys who are all hovering around the 70 mark in my 9th grade Physical Science class, discussing strategies for studying and communicating when they are lost, which is often.

I am optimistic that the program will be successful for at least a couple of the students who are falling behind. There are a few however that seem to be giving up and not really caring, which is frustrating because it would not take much effort for them to turn it around and that attitude is contagious. A lot of it has to do with their English abilities as well as the fact that they have always been able to get by with the minimum effort. I am hoping that the extra attention will get them back on the right track. However, like the telephone poles, it is going to take some effort before I will be able to turn that light on.

When It Rains, It Floods – from Jake Pinkston on teaching mission in Honduras

November 15, 2009

The rainy season has finally arrived in earnest here in La Ceiba and somebody already stole my umbrella (I suspect my neighbor). Go figure. We had a storm system come through about a month ago that got stuck for two days and caused so much rain that we actually had to close school because it was unsafe to drive on the roads (drainage is a luxury in Honduras). However, it has been sunny and hot since then. This week, the temperature dropped about ten degrees to the low 70s and it has rained on and off almost everyday.

I love it. For once I am not drenched in sweat and can stand to wear pants outside of the classroom. I can actually spend time outside walking around and not feel like I am going to drop dead from dehydration. I have been able to sleep with the air conditioning off. With the rooster finally gone to the country where he can sing the hourly watch to his hearts content and the local stray dogs staying home, all I can hear at night is the rain. Much more my style of climate.

The students at school however, have not adjusted so well. I have to laugh when I come into the classrooms because it reminds me of a Senior Center bingo game: every student bundled up in a sweater or a light jacket chair, the collars of their uniform popping out awkwardly and fidgeting with their notebooks, uncomfortable and wishing that class would get started already. Meanwhile I am more comfortable than I have ever been, I can actually hear myself because the fans are turned off and the windows are shut, and I don’t even have to ask the class to settle down. I hope this weather lasts for awhile.

One problem that the rain does bring is that my apartment is not particularly water proof, as I have mentioned before. There are no gutters above my kitchen windows and when rain hits the aluminum roof, it bounces pretty high. The windows leak even when they are shut but when they are open, anything on the counters is in the flood zone. I have found this out the hard way a couple of times, but I am now pretty well trained to close my windows anytime I leave the house. When I remember…

I came home from school on Wednesday this week during a down pour, soaking wet from foot to knee after wading across my street to get to the sidewalk, wondering if I had remembered to close my windows that morning. The sinking feeling in my stomach subsided as I climbed the stairs to the second level and saw that in fact the windows were tightly shut.

It had been a tough day in a tough week. I was on the wrong side of a tradition I did not understand that had taken a strangle hold on Trinity in the last two weeks. United Nations Day. “A spirited discussion and celebration of the history, parts, functions and future role of the UN as an intergovernmental organization?” Wrong. This was a two hour evening presentation to the parents where each class was required to study a country then come up with a dance, make a booth, and sell typical food of that culture. “Okay, maybe there is some relation to the UN.” Three such countries included Ancient Egypt, Ancient China, and Ancient Rome. “What?” And, in order to complete this project, the students needed three class hours per day, plus after school preparation time. Any other classes they had (ie Science class), they would blow off, too tired or distracted to really contribute let alone get the homework done. “Does anyone know who the UN Secretary General is or what he does?” AHHHHH!

Ready to sit on my couch, unwind, check up on the news and the Red Sox off-season activities, and eat a Granny Smith apple with peanut butter, I unlocked my door and walked in. Splash! My already wet sneaker was inundated in an inch of water. My entire kitchen was inundated with an inch of water. I searched for the source of the flood. I saw a thin silver stream flowing from the faucet, hitting a rippling lake of water and a few protruding plates and rolling gracefully over the counter, down the peach tiles and onto the floor in spectacular waterfall and I knew exactly what happened. My sink has a mind of its own. Some times it is silent, other times it drips, other times it flows in spits and spurts. It all depends on the water pressure, which can change at any minute. Some time during the day, my leaning tower of dirty dishes had succumbed to the forces of gravity, fallen into the sink, closed the drain and the rest was history.

Finding no better tool than an old yogurt container I had been using for Tupperware and my trash can, I proceed to bail and dump the contents of the floor for the next hour and a half. I filled three two-gallon trash cans before finally I grabbed the mop, spread the remaining water out, turned up the fan, and let evaporation do the rest while I enjoyed my apple. I realized then what a better mood I was in than when I had started the clean-up. Luckily I had not left anything important on the floor and the beauty of concrete construction had prevented any damage below. And to be honest, my apartment really needed a good mopping.

I took that positive energy to school the next day and instead of fighting the UN day program, I tried to be a little more flexible and see what I could do to get the project done. I even gave my 7th and 8th grade classes the afternoon off to get prepared for their presentation that evening. In an attempt to recognize what the day was supposed to be about, Veronica asked me to give the opening speech and discuss the UN briefly. Considering the speech was in English, the parents only speak Spanish, and the kids were all upstairs getting ready, I would say it absolutely flopped but it’s the thought that counts, right?

I was really proud to see all the students participating and performing. They went all out, choreographing their dances and making all the costumes by hand. The Pharaoh and Michael Jackson were in full regalia. There was a wardrobe malfunction that derailed one of the dances but that was the only drama over the entire night. I even got a free cheeseburger from the 9th grade booth (they did the USA) for picking up glitter for their American flag the day before. Even though it only has 9 stripes and 37 stars, I decided to put it up in my apartment afterwards. By the end, the students were completely wiped out but there was an aura of happiness and accomplishment that seemed to wash over everyone.

I am hoping that this upcoming week will be a little more normal and a lot more relaxed. After Noah’s flood, both figuratively and literally, I think we are all ready for a fresh, positive start. While I did not understand what UN day is to Hondurans and I hope I never have to deal with one again, I know I grew from the experience and I think everyone else did too.

In Memory of Reina Melisa – from Jake Pinkston on teaching mission in Honduras

11/9/2009

It was a very sad week for Holy Trinity Episcopal School. A girl in the fifth grade, Reina Melisa, died suddenly on Thursday morning. While the story has changed several times in a likely effort to protect the doctors and nurses involved, it is probable that she died from an allergic reaction to medication while being treated at a local clinic for Dengue fever. They rushed her to the hospital but were unable to save her. She was 11 years old.

The students and staff at Trinity were informed as we arrived at school on Thursday morning but the secondary school continued with classes as usual, offering time for students to ask questions and reflect but not disrupt the schedule too much. I joined Mike, Betty, and Mary Ann, the assistant principal in charge of the primary school and we walked over to the funeral home, which is literally right next door to the school, to meet the parents and give our condolences while the students had their recess.

On Friday, the students had classes for an hour and a half then made cards for the family. At 9am we went down into the auditorium for the funeral service. The fifth grade class sat at the front while the rest of the school sat at the back. As friends and family members filed in, they placed flower arrangements on the steps of the stage behind the altar so that there was a solid back drop of bright colors.

The immediate family members wheeled in the casket from next door, which was closed but had a viewing window on the top and the service began. The 5th graders read scripture in both English and Spanish and Reverend Neri spoke, followed by an older sister and an uncle of Reina. I stood at the side with some of the 10th graders and they followed along with me in the Book of Common Prayer. The most poignant part of the service for me was how every five minutes or so, one of the classes would stand up from their seats and move to the back to accommodate for people filing in late for the service. First the 9th, then the 8th, then the 7th, and so on until there were no students sitting and it was standing room only in the auditorium.

At the end of the service, there was a long caravan to the cemetery, which is about 20 minutes east of the city, outside of town. I rode out with Neri, Veronica, and Licenia, one of the custodians, and we followed the gray Dodge caravan, which serves as the funeral home’s hearse. There is no parking to speak of at the cemetery so everyone just pulled off the highway and walked the quarter mile, dodging the tractor trailers screaming by. The cemeteries in Honduras are on the more marginal land, this particular one on a hillside next to a stream. The gravestones are more horizontal than vertical and the entire grave is decorated, not just around the headstone, with plastic flowers and other trinkets.

There were close to a hundred mourners at the graveside. The service continued with more memories of Reina followed by a series of official condolences from the hospital and from the places where the parents worked. The family gathered around the casket one last time and cried together while a woman led the mourners in songs. Then the casket was lower into the ground and it was over.

I have become accustomed to seeing funeral gatherings on almost a daily basis, as Trinity is in the center of the funeral district of La Ceiba. There is Funerario San Jose next to the school, which has wakes going on almost every day. The in-town offices of the cemetery are one block south, complete with a full window front display of their selection of coffins and memorials. One block to the east is the poor mans funeral home, where you can see the owner making the coffins out of rough-hewn planks on his back porch. While death is a part of life, it is always a tragedy when a child dies. But as the sister said during the services, God has a plan for everyone and we must have faith that Reina is in a better place.

The day brought back memories of when I returned to Deerfield Academy the year after I graduated for the memorial service of a student who graduated with me and had died while away at college. I only knew Gordie as an acquaintance, but I was still glad to be there, wearing my green Class of 2004 tie, showing my support to his family and my classmates. In the same way, I never knew Reina and was only vaguely familiar with the smiling face that was on the front of the service bulletin. I felt strange being there and witnessing the people who loved her so much grieving her death when I had not even met her. Even though I was very much an outsider, I hope that being there in my white polo with the Trinity shield did a little to ease their pain and show that even although her time on this Earth was short, it meant something and she will be missed.

Pictures from La Ceiba - from Jake Pinkston on teaching mission in Honduras

All Saints Sunday Sermon, November 1, 2009 by the Rev. Frances A. Hills, Rector

On this All Saints Sunday, I have a quiz for you. It’s from Charles Schultz, the creator of the Peanuts comic strip. So, here’s the quiz: (You needn’t answer out loud.)


1. Name the five wealthiest people in the world.
2. Name the last five Heisman trophy winners.
3. Name the last five winners of the Miss America crown.
4. Name ten people who have won the Nobel or Pulitzer Prize.
5. Name the last half dozen Academy Award winners for best actor and actress.
6. Name the last decade’s World Series winners.

How did you do?

The point is, most of us don’t remember yesterday’s headliners…even these, who are the best in their fields. The applause die. Awards tarnish. Achievements are forgotten, the accolades and certificates are eventually buried with their owners.

Here’s another quiz (answer silently):

1. List a few teachers who aided your journey through school.
2. Name three friends who have helped you through a difficult time.
3. Name five people who have taught you something worthwhile.
4. Think of a few people who have made you feel appreciated and special.
5. Think of five people you enjoy spending time with.
Do better?

(You’ll have an opportunity to name these silently or aloud during the first communion music while the cantors chant The Litany of the Saints.)
Charles Schultz observes the people who make a difference in your life are not the ones with the most credentials, the most money, or the most awards. They are the ones that care.

On this All Saints Sunday and Stewardship Ingathering Sunday, we’re focusing on the people, the “saints” we’ve known, and who have made a real difference in our lives. These are the saints, with a small “s.” They may still be alive or ones we’ve known who have died, but they’re the ones who practice God’s love and blessing in their ordinary, yet extraordinary ways. On All Saints Day, we remember these saints as well as the ones

formally acknowledged by the Church like Peter, Andrew, James and John; Mary, Martha, Julian and Theresa.
When I think of the people, the mentors, who have made all the difference in my life…the saints I’ve known…I am overwhelmed with gratitude. They are the people

of Christ Church Detroit who taught me as a young adult that even I am a child of God, loved and capable of loving. Then I think of the supervisors and members of my Clinical Pastoral Education groups, who taught me to take risks by sharing something of my real self with others. Through them I learned to trust…one of the hardest things I’ve ever learned to do. And there are the Spiritual Directors who have helped me become aware of God’s constant presence. And there’s my Uncle Lee: So wise. So curious. So fair. So powerful. So generous. So humble. And the teachers and priests who opened the Bible to me, and helped me see God’s word is alive and living today…That our stories are part of “The Story” of God’s Salvation History. And I think of the parishes I’ve served, and especially you of St. James, who have shown me over and over again how God’s Spirit is alive and active in community.
When I think of these, and I imagine when you think of the saints God has placed in your lives, the feeling is overwhelming gratitude. It is in such a posture of gratitude that we can begin to see life as abundant, and then have the capacity to become a blessing to others. When we’re grateful, then we know the truth of that little stewardship sermon we preach every Sunday at the Offertory, “All things come of thee, O God. And of thine own have we given thee.”
The mentors and communities that have really mattered in our lives were given by God. We didn’t earn them or necessarily deserve them. They just came into our lives, and blessed us in ways we could never have asked for or imagined. So it is in God’s economy. So it is in the Communion of Saints, of which we are a part. We too can be the ones God uses to make a difference in someone’s life. God can use us to be a blessing to others. We cannot make that happen, but we can fill our hearts with gratitude for all that’s been given us. When we do that, we will become generous, and my hunch is that generosity will spill over into God’s world as blessing…

“For the saints of God are just folk like [you and] me, and I mean to be one too!” Don’t you?” Amen.

¿Chapeaste? - from Jake Pinkston on teaching mission in Honduras

The first term is done! I have trouble believing that I am saying that. My final exams are finished and corrected, and after some nifty work with Excel, all my grades are calculated and ready for the homeroom teachers to tabulate into report cards. Exhale. Now onto second term.

But first, some reflection. All in all, I am pleased with the progress that my students and I have made in the first ten weeks of classes. But their is always room for improvement.

Material-wise, we did not manage to cover anything close to what I anticipated, but that can be blamed on over a week's worth of lost classes do to rain, soccer, coups, and special programs and maybe some overly ambitious goals on my part. Of the material that we covered, I would say that half the students have a good idea of what is going on, a quarter are struggling but managing to keep their head above water, an eighth are mastering the material and need to be challenged more, and an eighth have no idea what class they are in at any given time, let alone what the Cell Theory is. Not bad considering this is the first time any of the students have had challenging science classes.

I am not the hardest teacher in the school (that goes to the math teacher, who is also in her 20s) but certainly not the easiest. While my class averages are on the low side at 80%, only 5 out of 50 students failed the first term. Labs need improvement but now that I have a better idea how quickly we move through subjects and how much prep time labs take, I hope to get in more this term. My handwriting is good enough so that I only get yelled at once or twice a class for illegible scribble on the white board. That has probably been my biggest improvement.

The most crucial thing I want to change for next term, and hopefully the rest of the year, is the cheating. To be clear, not all of my students cheat. But a lot of them do. They cheat on homework, quizzes, labs, even tests. And they are terrible at it. They are always the last kids to finish an exam. The cheaters who don’t know the answer cheat off others who don’t know the answer so like a virus, one random answer that has nothing to do with the question ends up on a half dozen tests. That’s assuming they manage to get the answer under the correct question, which often does not happen. It is almost comical.

They saved the best for the final. One boy, “Manuel,” passed another boy “Vicente” his test to copy. The answers of course were terribly wrong but that was only half of the problem. Vicente, after copying the test, wrote his name on the top of the both tests, not sure which one was his. After erasing them both, he figured out which one was his and handed the other test back to Manuel. Manuel then turned in the test, forgetting to write his own name on it. When he came up to me after the exam to fix his error, I noticed the wrong name erased. I also noted the perfect copy of the life cycle of an active virus, right down to an equal number of virus bursting out of the host cell (the question was on Pasteur’s experiment proving biogenesis). Game. Set. Match.

Mr. Mike gave both boys a good sit down and by the looks on their faces, that will be the end of their cheating. As for the rest of their classmates, it is less optimistic. There is very little cultural value placed on academic honesty here. They are concerned with the ends and not the means. The studious kids won’t let the others cheat off them, but that just depletes the brain trust. The rest just seem to want to pass the class with the least amount of effort possible and that usually means cheating off anyone convenient. For now, I think fear will keep their eyes down on their papers. I am hopeful that by the end of my time here, it will be pride in their education. I am not giving up.

“And if [the shepherd] finds [the sheep], truly I tell you, he rejoices over it more than over the ninety-nine that never went astray. So it is not the will of your Father in heaven that one of these little ones should be lost.” Matthew 18: 13-14

Balancing the Social with the Science - from Jake Pinkston on teaching mission in Honduras

It has been an extremely busy week here in La Ceiba as final’s week approaches for the first term. I have been running around, frantically trying to hunt down the students who have not turned in labs or homework. It is amazing how quickly they can disperse when I pull out my grade book and start calling names to see me after class. Momentary deafness and restless feet syndrome suddenly reach pandemic levels and the stampede is initiated. You would think that I was trying to improve my grade, not theirs…

The typical complaints have started pouring in since I handed out the review sheets for the classes. “We have to know all this for the exam.” Well, yes, that is what we covered in the last 9 weeks. “Mr. Jake…” At this point, the sob stories start pouring in. I then ask them what they do between the time school gets out at 2pm and they go to bed. The usual answer is eat, but nobody really elaborates further. The idea of spending 45 minutes a night reviewing for the upcoming exam is too distasteful to justify debate.

Mike and Betty summarized when I first I arrived a key cultural difference between Hondurans and Americans that I have found to ring pretty true in the last 10 weeks I have spent in La Ceiba. Americans for the most part are task oriented. A goal is set and pursued, and professional relationships are built around that end. Hondurans are people oriented. The relationship always takes precedent over the goal and the goal itself is often influenced and even changed by the relationships.

This weekend, I got to see this cultural value in action. The civics teacher, Ms. Olga, had a birthday last week. Birthday’s are a huge deal in Honduras so we sang to her in school and many student brought her homemade cards. But instead of celebrating her birthday at home with her husband and children, Olga and a couple parents threw a party for almost half of the secondary school and included Mike, Betty and me. They reserved a space at a private picnic / park down the road near the ocean, rented one of the buses that can fit 10 comfortably but always cram about 30 in them, and bused most of the 7th, 8th and 9th grade down for a Saturday of swimming, soccer, music, and barbeque.

The students spent hours playing in the stream running through the park, which has been dammed with sand bags to a depth of about 4 feet, throwing each other in, tossing around the soccer ball, and having a good time with each other outside of the classroom. Mike, Betty and I served as the supervisors but they encouraged us to join them in the water. I played soccer with the boys as well, who decided that pulling out my chest hair was the funniest game ever created. Wonderful. Olga’s husband brought his DJ equipment so the most popular Latin pop hits were blasting all day. The students were quick to find the microphone and while they urged their classmates to dance, it seemed as if the real goal was to hear their voice at 80 decibels. Olga and another mom were happy to run the traditional Honduran barbecue of beef, chicken, refried beans (always), tortillas and chimol, a fresh tomato salad. However, they too found time to play in the water and walk out to the beach.

While I cannot remember anytime in my educational career that a teacher threw a party for 25 students on a weekend on her own time, this is very typical at Trinity. Hondurans love to plan and throw special events for any reason. In class, the attitude is very similar. The students love the opportunity to chat, hang out, and plan events and activities. On music day, I spend my lunch break with the 8th grade boys, jamming and singing songs on guitars that stay in tune for about 5 minutes at a time. It is a congenial social atmosphere that makes working at Trinity very enjoyable. However, this makes getting things done more than a struggle at times. When I remind them that I need to check their homework so that we can begin the class lecture and maybe finish the chapter, they give me a look of shock and almost disdain, as if my priorities were completely ridiculous.

My goal has not been to break the cultural values that the students have but to try to find some middle ground. While I still hold high expectations, I build into my lesson plans time for talking about last night’s soccer game or how funny I sound when I speak Spanish. My biggest focus and challenge has been convincing my students that they are capable of working hard, they are smart enough to master the material, they can be strong students if they put in the time and effort. If they do that, there will be more time to hang out. While I don’t think they like it very much, I think that they have at least begun to accept and buy into the idea. I look forward to next week’s results to see where we are and where we will go from here.

Who Are We?

Here's a new video about Who Episcopalians Are from King of Peace parish in Kingsland, GA. Bravo to the team who put this together! What do you think?

Sermon, October 11, 2009 by the Rev. Frances A. Hills, Rector

The Gospels of Matthew, Mark and Luke all tell the story, of the rich man who asks Jesus, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” Of course the story varies some in each Gospel. For example in Matthew’s version he’s a “young” man, in Luke he’s a “ruler,” but in today’s Mark, he’s just “a man.” Another thing that’s unique in Mark’s telling is the part about, how Jesus “looked on him and loved him.”

The Love gives us a context for understanding Jesus’ tough demands of this man. Jesus knows the man does not feel the closeness with God that he desires, because he asks for eternal life, life with God. Jesus also knows the man lives an upright life, and, Jesus knows what is needed.

After Jesus names off the commandments, the man says he has never murdered, committed adultery, stolen things, lied, defrauded anyone, and he had always honored his parents. He is a good man in his relations with others. Jesus knows that already. It’s interesting, though, when Jesus lists these commandments, he only lists 6 of the 10—the ones about human relationships. Jesus leaves out the ones about loving God, putting nothing above God, respecting God in thought, word and deed, and setting aside time to worship God. For some reason, Jesus leaves those off the list. Maybe Jesus knows the man can’t answer “yes” to the commandments about his relationship with God. But, “Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said,‘You lack one thing; go sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.’”

Now this is TOUGH LOVE. Jesus “loved him” enough to ask him for what the man apparently valued most: His wealth and many possessions Jesus asked for these not because wealth and possessions are bad in themselves, but because these are the things that got in the man’s way of his experiencing life in God, Eternal Life. His material possessions had become the man’s idols, the things he placed above God. They’d become an end in themselves, instead of a means to an end.

I think this story focuses us on the commandments about having no other gods and about not making idols (even though Jesus didn’t explicitly list these). Jesus knows our human tendency to put wealth, material things, power and prestige at the top of our lists. By our actions, our schedules, and our checkbook stubs, many of us may show these material things to be the most important things in our lives. And although I don’t think God despises this material world (After all, God made it!) or our human tendency to enjoy material things (After all, God made us like we are!), God knows we cannot find spiritual contentment when we make these our #1 priority. When we do that, it’s like we’ve built an altar to them, and they become our idols, what we really worship.

As Jesus longed for the rich man to find his true heart’s desire, God longs for us to find ours. God looks on us with love and invites us to give away, get rid of, give up anything that weights us down spiritually. God wants us to finally get inside and learn the true essence of keeping God’s law…God wants us not to be so concerned with the Letter of the Law, but with the Spirit of the Law, which is always LOVE.

Maybe that’s why Jesus suggests to the rich man that he sell his possessions and give the proceeds to the poor. This would not only free him of his idol, but also such sharing of wealth would embody LOVE and the Spirit of the law. This would give the man the life with God he longed for.

As we begin our Stewardship Season, I hope each of us will look at our priorities, and we can easily do that by looking at our checkbooks and appointment calendars. Where we spend our time and our money tells us about our priorities. In a sense, the discernment process we’re in as a parish community at St. James should include this kind of  “Priority examination” as well. As individuals, families, and parish family, what are the things that keep us from life with God/eternal, abundant life?

A preacher from Virginia tells the story of how his daughter asked “What would you do if you won the $526 million VA State Lottery?” . . . “Give it all away?” The preacher deflected the question, “I don’t buy lottery tickets. I don’t believe in the lottery. So we don’t have to worry about what I’d do if I won.” Over the next hours and days, the daughter’s question haunted the preacher. He confessed to himself he thought he might quit his job, even though his vocation meant the world to him. He mused he could travel, attend seminars, explore Christianity all over the world, all at his leisure. And he wouldn’t have to worry about money to put his children through college or for retirement. He could just preach and pastor when and where he wanted to, not because he had to. Oh yes, and he’d be generous. He’d give lots to the church. He’d share. And with so much, he’d hardly notice all he gave away. ‘Wouldn’t really have to sacrifice. The preacher admitted he had these thoughts. Then he realized what a creature of our consumer, materialistic world he really was.

He realized his daughter was not really asking about money but about priorities and the real point of life. So he pondered: Are we here to have as many enriching experiences as we can? To accumulate all the wealth we can? To buy all the things we can? What about service? What about making a contribution? What about being responsive to the great needs of others in the world? What about sacrifice?
So the preacher said to himself, “It’s God’s mercy that I don’t play the lottery, for I don’t know if I could face the temptation if I won.” Then he concluded, “Thanks to my daughter’s question, I know what answer this particular Christian soul needs to give, ‘What would you do if you won? Give it all away?’ YEP!…Give it all away.”
(J. Christopher Price, quoted in Synthesis)

God looks on us and loves us. God wants us to be free and to love deeply, serve others, travel light in this life, so that we can enjoy life with God both now and always. Amen.

Sermon, October 4, 2009 by the Rev. Frances A. Hills, Rector

For those of us who are divorced, or thinking of divorce, or even know someone who is divorced (and that surely includes all of us), today’s gospel about divorce & remarriage is just a hard scripture passage. It would be much easier to go for the second half of the reading…the part about Jesus taking the little children up in his arms and blessing them. The second part is easier, but somehow I think I need to talk about the first.

It initially seems strange that Jesus, who is usually disagreeing with the legalistic attitudes of the Pharisees, this time seems to be “one upping” them when it comes to being legalistic about divorce. They ask “Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife?” Actually in those days, the legality of divorce was hardly the question. According to Moses’ Law (Deuteronomy 24:1) a bill of divorce could be drawn up by a man if his wife had committed some “indecency.” Divorce was a legally accepted practice in the First Century when Jesus lived.

So the Pharisees real question was probably really about what constituted an “indecency.” One school of thought says it’s a single offense of adultery. Another says any number of things could constitute “indecency” like talking with another man in public, not having children, speaking disrespectfully to in-laws, maybe even burning dinner!

The Pharisees were trying to get Jesus either to take sides or somehow contradict the Law. They wanted to trip him up, as they had tried many other times. And like those many other times, Jesus side-steps the trap. He takes the conversation to much higher ground. For one thing, Jesus creates more parity between men and women. In those days women couldn’t divorce men. Only men could write a certificate of dismissal. But Jesus says, “If she divorces her husband…” making it a possibility for the woman to have equal rights (and responsibilities) in the relationship.

I don’t think in this passage Jesus wants to talk so much about DIVORCE as God’s intentions for MARRIAGE and relationship. It’s not just for convenience, or for the end of having children, or for the prestige it might bring. Jesus goes back to Genesis and God’s original intention for the way creation should be…

“God made them male and female…for this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.” Marriage is about relationship/companionship. Two individuals mystically become One.

Now the verse that follows this in Genesis Chapter 2 (which Jesus doesn’t quote here) is, “And the man and his wife were naked, and were not ashamed.” That comes at the very end of Genesis 2, so it serves as the transition from the first and second chapters of Genesis, which describe God’s intentions for Creation, to Genesis 3, “The Fall”… Adam, Eve, and the snake in the Garden. It’s a metaphorical story about how it is these creatures God made, these human beings, came not to be in harmony with God, themselves, each other and the rest of creation. One of the signs of this Fall is that the man and woman began to be ashamed of their nakedness, and needed fig leaves to cover themselves up. It seems to me in these verses from Genesis, Jesus holds up the ideal of deep relationship, of how we are meant to live in relationship: Relationships of intimacy of mind, body and spirit. Relationships where the two are mystically joined as One. Relationships where each partners’ love for the other makes their heart’s desire the well-being of their partner, the desire for the partner to be whole in mind, body and spirit.

Such intimacy is core to marriage as God intends it, and that means the partners feel safe enough in the relationship that they can dare to be all of who they are. They can trust each other enough to “bare” all that’s in their hearts and minds, and not be ashamed. That’s God’s ideal, the way God intended things to be from the beginning. That’s what Jesus is reminding the Pharisees and us of in today’s Gospel. God wants us to live in relationships of deep trust and love, relationships that hold the well-being of the partner’s mind, body, and spirit in highest regard. Such relationships are truly gifts from God.

As we begin our Stewardship Campaign this month, I encourage each of us to be good stewards of the precious relationships God gives us. Remember being a steward is not ownership, but being entrusted with the care of something/someone who ultimately belongs to God. So we’re called to care for our relationships at home, work, church, and in the world; to be open and honest with those dearest to us; to make their well-being a priority, as they make ours their priority. God knows that’s not always how our relationships are: We can go from Genesis 1 & 2—God’s Intentions—to Genesis 3—The Fall in the blink of an eye. We mess things up in a myriad of ways. Maybe we enter a relationship that’s abusive or oppressive to start with in an environment where trust is impossible and true love cannot exist. Or maybe the relationship starts out ok but somehow over time, things happen. We feel ashamed. We feel rejected. We feel resentment, and we start the deceptive process of “covering up” our real selves. We’re afraid to show our true feelings and afraid to make ourselves vulnerable again.

Sometimes there’s a way back. Sometimes it seems there’s not.

God knows that, in fact, that’s why Jesus came, because God knows we can’t always get it right. But God gets it right, and no matter how we mess up, God’s perfect love is always there, always trustworthy. As they say in the Black Church, “God is good…all the time!” God’s grace and mercy and forgiveness are always there when in our frailty, we cannot love our partner as One, when we cannot fulfill God’s intentions in our relationships. And when we can admit THAT, with all its pain and sense of failure, then we have the opportunity of going to Jesus as a little child, and being taken up into his arms, and being blessed. Amen.

GOOOOOOLLLLL! from Jake Pinkston on teaching mission in Honduras

There are guns firing, horns blasting, fireworks going off, and people cheering in the streets all over the city of La Ceiba this evening as two international sides pulled off spectacular results and secured positions in the 2010 World Cup in South Africa. Carlos Pavon, the proverbial goat of the Honduras-USA match after missing late from the penalty stripe for the tie, scored the lone goal in Honduras’ 1-0 win over El Salvador. Immediately, every television in the country switched to the Costa Rica-USA match and boy was it exciting. Costa Rica, needing a win to secure third place in the CONCACAF, took an early two goal lead into the 72th minute. But the US clawed back and secured the draw and first place in the group on an unlikely header goal by Jonathan Bornstein in the 5th minute of stoppage time. The tie gave Honduras the third place berth, their first in more than two decades and the celebrations began. No chance I will be getting anything done in class tomorrow.

It is impossible to understate the importance of this World Cup qualification to the people of Honduras right now. Their political establishment a mess, the fall off in the world economy compounded by the loss of aid and tourism have made life difficult for a country with 50% of its population living below the poverty line. But they have their futbol team. For old and young, male and female, the Honduran national team is their team. They know the players, they know the schedule, they know what is at stake, and they watch every game from start to finish with a passionate intensity. Victory and defeat are shared experiences that seem to be the glue that binds them together through these difficult times.

At Trinity, the students have been anticipating the final games of qualifying for weeks. They were particularly excited about the USA-Honduras match, which was played in nearby San Pedro Sula on Saturday. I made a bet with the 10th grade boys that if Honduras won the game, they could give me whatever hair cut they wanted, as long as I did not bleed. If the United States won, they would have to buy me a baleada (tortilla with red beans and fried egg, a staple here) and lemonade (which comes in a sandwich bag with a straw) a day for a week. Needless to say, the morning recesses have been quite filling the past two days. I ended up buzzing my head anyways, but only because it is so hot down here and I was having way too many bad hair days at school.

Today was Honduras Spirit Day at school in anticipation of the big game against El Salvador this evening. As a fundraiser, the Trinity allowed students to break the uniform dress code and wear jeans and a Honduras jersey (they are selling them on every corner) if they paid 10 lempiras (about 60 cents). Almost all of the students and many of the teachers came sporting their blue and white colors and a couple even wore face paint. Ms. Betty’s 8th and 9th grade English classes used the new vocabulary they had been working on to come up with cheers. Everyone was in a great mood and although it wasn’t the most productive of days, the whole school had an energy to it that made it a fun place to be.

The interim president just declared a nation holiday to celebrate the qualification. Trinity will be having classes tomorrow, but I am guessing that more than a handful of my students will not be in school and everyone else will be too excited to be interested in Newton’s First Law of Motion or converting liters to cubic centimeters. Even with first quarter exams coming up and a lot of material left to cover, I can’t really complain. Right now, this country needs something to celebrate. And I have a tasty snack coming my way.

In the Desert (or San Pedro Sula) from Jake Pinkston on teaching mission in Honduras

While the political sparring has continued to ebb and flow back in Tegucigalpa, life has returned to normal again here in La Ceiba. The curfews have been late at night so not particularly burdensome and the police presence minimal. We have not missed any school and most people’s concerns are whether or not Honduras will qualify for the upcoming World Cup. Considering who their opponent is this coming Saturday, I will save this topic for Sunday evening.

Because everything had settled down, Mike, Betty and I were able to take a bus trip to San Pedro Sula for a diocese orientation for Americans teaching in Honduras Episcopal Schools. We were a little skeptical of the whole thing; it seemed that 5 weeks into the school year is a little late to be telling us about what to bring to Honduras. However, it ended up being a blessing in disguise right off the bat. We took off from school around noon on Friday to get to the bus station by 2:00. About an hour later, 3 cell phones disappeared and the secondary school went on lock down while they administration tried unsuccessfully to find the scheming serpent. Definitely a good afternoon to miss, even if it meant being on a bus for 3 hours.

We were met at the station by a woman named Barabara, a Texan in her 70s who has been in Honduras for 11 years. She is widowed with no children and decided to go to seminary school before relocating to Honduras as a missionary. The woman has had her leg horrifically broken twice since arriving and walks with a cane but never seems to miss a beat. She is a warrior in every sense of the word.

We were in earlier than the other teachers so she offered to take us to Price Mart. Mike and Betty were thrilled, as they have wanted to go for the past two years and nobody would take them. Think Costco shrunk in half. It is all bulk, brand name low cost products, mostly imported from the States. We loaded up on the essentials that cost an arm and a leg in La Ceiba: huge blocks of cheddar cheese, olive oil, and salsa. It was Christmas in October (complete with a 5 foot sing and dancing Santa with reindeer accompaniment in the kitchenware aisle for only $80… gross).

The four teachers from Tegucigalpa did not get in until 7:30 so they picked up dinner at Power Chicken (Honduran KFC) and we ate together in the breakfast room of the B&B where we were staying. It was an interesting variety of people. There was a 40 year old former actuary who teaches secondary math, a woman in her late 50s with grown children who had recently married a Honduran postal worker and teaches 2nd grade, and a retired couple from DC who were former school administrators in the Bedford school district. He teaches history and civics while she teaches 1st grade. We spent the meal getting to know one another, sharing strange and crazy stories about our students and discussing how little anybody knew about what this meeting was about. Most of the group had a beer at the bar afterwards but with all the traveling after a week of school, we all packed it in early.

The next day we had breakfast at the B&B then piled into the back of Barbara’s pickup truck and drove a short distance to the Episcopal compound where the Diocese offices are located as well as the flagship Episcopal school in Honduras that gives us most of our second hand books. It is huge and nicely finished but Mike and I think that Trinity will catch them in the next five years if things continue as they are going. It was encouraging to measure that progress but there is still a lot of work to do.

The actual meeting was more an extension of the dinner conversation. There were some interesting handouts but not a lot of structure so the conversation drifted to what people felt was most important, which I thought made sense considering the wealth of knowledge that everyone already had. We had lunch with the Bishop, who is the first native Honduran to ever hold the office and is a powerful yet soft spoken man. The Episcopal Church has doubled in congregations since he took the position in 2003.

Afterwards, we said our goodbyes, the Tegus folks joined the Bishop who was driving back to the capital and we went back to the bus station. Mike and Betty know the bus line very well and have met the owner several times. We saw him in the station, they struck up a conversation and the next thing I know, I have been bumped up to first class, free of charge. Not a bad way to finish off the trip.

Although I cannot say that I learned very much from the meeting, it was a good opportunity to share ideas and observations with teachers who shared my perspective as an outsider. We joked that every stage in life was represented there at the table: post college crisis, midlife crisis, late career crisis, and post retirement crisis. Only the 2nd grade teacher is planning on staying beyond this year. Honduras represents a transition period for everyone, a time of intense work in a new environment that challenges both mind and spirit that will eventually lead to a new direction with new perspectives. I feel in many ways like Jesus did when he went into the desert early in his life. Every day I am being questioned and tested, not out of malice but often out of mischief, as my students look to see where I might bend or break. I am finding it difficult at times to focus on the present because the future is still not clear and I am still weighing my options. But everyday I feel a little stronger, a little clearer, and a little more confident. I am in no hurry to leave the wilderness just yet, but I think that when I do, I will be ready for the next step.

Mel, Roberto, and Caesar - from Jake Pinkston on teaching mission in Honduras

If you have been following the news lately, you have probably noticed that Honduras has been a frequent headline. With exiled president Manuel Zelaya's sudden and curious return to Honduras on Tuesday and interim president Roberto Micheletti’s steadfast refusal to cow to international pressure, the political situation has become more tenuous by the day. There has been rioting, looting, and vandalism in Tegucigalpa, the capital and in San Pedro Sula as both sides seem to be waiting for the other to break the stalemate.

La Ceiba however has been very calm. The distance from the capital as well as the character of it citizens has made it one of the safest places to be in Honduras right now. There have been no demonstrations or acting out for or against the government. The city did shut down under curfew on Tuesday and Wednesday along with the rest of the country, but has since been nervously going on with daily life. I have had no reason to fear for my safety and have no plans of leaving the country before Christmas, when I will be heading to Spain with the family to visit my sister Nell, who is studying abroad there. I am registered with the US Embassy in Tegu and have a cell phone on me at all times in case the situation changes and decisions have to be made. I feel confident that the crisis will eventually resolve itself in a peaceful manner, and I remain committed to fulfilling the covenant I made with Trinity to teach secondary school science for the school year.

As it stands now, Zelaya, or Mel as he is disaffectionately called, is holed up in the Brazilian Embassy, hoping that someone will give him the chance to be the Caesar of Honduras that he has always wanted to be (if Raul and Hugo get to do it, why shouldn’t he?). Micheletti continues to enjoy his new found power by declaring martial law and keeping Mel and everyone else locked up. Meanwhile, the people of Honduras suffer.

Luckily I was already at home on Tuesday when the nationwide curfew was announced. The government gave everyone a half hour to get home, which quickly overwhelmed the mass transit network. All the buses, which are privately owned converted school buses, had people hanging out the doors as they headed out of town to the surrounding pueblos. Cabs were impossible to find and people lined the streets often with children in tow searching ahead for any sign of a white vehicle that might provide an escape. It was absolute chaos.

As someone who has always been fond of my civil liberties, 48 hours of house arrest was a startling experience. All you want to do is go outside for a walk but the pick-up trucks with men in back wearing black body armor and wielding automatic rifles and combat shotguns make a convincing argument. There is a real feeling of imprisonment, even though it is your own house.

Like in any crises, it got to the point where all the news on the television was the same and none of it useful, all speculation and bias commentary. Every few hours, they extended the curfew another six hours. Nobody knew when it would be over. I sat for awhile on the roof above my landlords garage looking over the city. It was if the entire population had disappeared. The silence was deafening. The taxi car horns, the soccer whistles, the children yelling, the two stroke mopeds high pitched whine were all gone. Just the a few dogs barking and the rooster next door that prefers the hours of 2:02am, 4:47am, and 5:19am to announce that he is the king of the yard getting in some extra rehearsal. It was emptiness I had never felt before in an urban setting until then.

I was lucky. I had plenty of pasta, grades to get done, and two animated movies I borrowed from the library. It was vacation. But for many people in Honduras, there are no days off. A day not working is a day without eating. Many churches including Trinity have found themselves at the front lines, working to get families the food they need. When the curfew finally ended, I ran over to the grocery store to pick up some milk and peanut butter. The place was mobbed. Shelvers could barely keep up with the frantic shoppers, who were not just resupplying but stocking up should there be another extended curfew. The check-out lines went half way across the super market. I waited in line for 45 minutes before getting out of there.

While I am very disappointed with the power struggle and international community’s response to the political crisis in Honduras, I have made an effort not to take a side because it is not my battle. It is the battle of people of Honduras’ to fight as they decide how to best defend the principles of their democracy. My mission here is to give my students, the future leaders of this country, the tools to be engaged citizens: asking questions, thinking critically, challenging ideas, and being present. I will continue that mission pursuit for as long as I can, and leave the rest to God.

“Then give to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s” Luke 20:24

Mike and Betty - from Jake Pinkston on teaching mission in Honduras

It was a tough day at NFL central, La Ceiba this weekend for three passionate fans a long way from the action. Mike and Betty invited me over to their house after church f0r bunch and an afternoon of football. I am an avid Boston sports fan and it has actually been easier to follow the Red Sox and Patriots here in Honduras than it was living in Colorado. Go figure. Mike and Betty are big Steelers fans so we had our afternoon schedule set up well, with the games one after the other. Unfortunately, it did not go too well. Both our teams lost as Tom Brady’s passes hit the ground more than his receivers and the Steelers kicker wished that the goal posts were a little farther to the left. However, we still enjoyed the fellowship, not to mention the brunch of eggs and waffles, chips and dip, and a couple beers to wash it all down (the beers were after brunch). The conversation over the dinner of hot dogs and mashed potatoes was a little subdued though…

I met Mike and Betty last March when I came with the Colorado mission team. Since then, they have been the catalysts for my year here and have been supporting me everyday in my transition from Vail ski bum to gringo science teacher. They proposed the idea of me coming to Veronica, the rector, found my apartment, negotiated the rent, stocked my refrigerator, showed me around town, and have invited me over to eat with them every week since. They have adopted me as their Honduras son. But that is only what they have done for me. Their story is one of incredible sacrifice and devotion to God and the children of Trinity.

Mike and Betty Kaszer are from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, the parents of three children who are now grown and married. They retired two years ago from the steel industry and child services respectively and, feeling a very young sixty years old, decided to take on a three year mission trip. They found Holy Trinity through Mission Works, and after touring the school with a team from their church, found their calling. They hit the fund-raising trail across their diocese, rented their house, packed whatever they could fit into a couple suitcases, and got on the plane.

What a different school Trinity was then. Recently under the new direction Veronica Flowers after an extended period of decline, falling admissions, large debt accumulation, deterioration of facilities and abandonment of its bilingual curriculum, it was difficult to identify where to even start. The Kaszers spent the first year as teachers in the upper school, learning about the culture, observing, teaching US History, Religion and English, and trying to find some semblance of order. They found no classroom discipline, little progress in covering the curriculum, and a constantly changing schedule to accommodate for weekly extra curricular programs. The classrooms were is disrepair, desks broken or infested with termites and the grounds were covered in trash. It was a very difficult place to work.

Last year, Mike took on the role of secondary school principal in addition to his teaching responsibilities. Realizing that the facilities would come around little by little, Mike and Betty set to changing the culture and attitudes of the students and teachers. They set high expectations for behavior, attendance, and academic performance. This meant putting a lot pressure on the parents, who had not been particularly active in their children’s education. They stabilized the calendar, rescheduled core curriculum classes during the cooler morning hours, and pared down the special programming. With passion and persistence, they found the teachers and students progressively bought into the new system.

Coming into their final year, the school is a completely different place. Enrollment in the secondary school is over 60 students, and will likely grow another 20 students with the addition of the 11th grade next years. There is continuity in the curriculum and the children are performing at much higher levels than in the past. These educational successes have resulted in increased support from US missionary groups, who have donated time and materials to improve several spaces that are now in use this year. There now is a science lab, home economics room, wood working shop, library with internet, and teacher’s lounge with AC. Every classroom has new desks, a new paint job, white boards, and storage space for the student’s books. Much of this has happened as a result of Mike and Betty’s impressive fund raising efforts and their ability to define and pursue priorities. They have a vision for the school and they have made it happen.

When I asked Betty what her children think of all this, she laughed and said that her kids thought she and Mike were crazy for taking this on. Crazy or not, what the Kaszers have done is nothing short of miraculous. Their work here in Holy Trinity is a testament to their strong faith in God and their optimistic, hardworking nature. It has been inspiring to work with them and I hope that when I retire someday, I am able to do something as meaningful and exciting. And still keep an eye on the Pats score.

"The mission of the Church is to restore all people to unity with God and each other in Christ... The Church pursues its mission as it prays and worships, proclaims the Gospel, and promotes justice, peace, and love." - The Book of Common Prayer

Sermon, September 20, 2009 by the Rev. Frances A. Hills, Rector

‘Some of you are probably sitting there with bated breath waiting for me to wax eloquent about that “capable wife” you heard about in the first reading from Proverbs! Well if you are, I’m going to disappoint you! But I will say in that description of the “capable wife,”
there are qualities of Wisdom that all of us should be glad to have! And it is Wisdom I will talk about in today’s homily.

For the past 14 months, we’ve been in the process of “data collection” here at St. James.
We’ve had a lot to find out about our building, our insurance and the costs associated with these. Now that we’ve gotten most of that information, we are starting a discernment process in which we will, over time, deal with the hard truths and discern our way forward as a parish.

The Discernment Process will require time, thought, more research, and much prayer.
Ultimately, I think the thing we’ll be praying for (or praying for most) is Wisdom. Now Wisdom is a quality of God…in fact it’s the way some describe or even personify God.
Wisdom is also a gift from God’s Spirit that we mortals may actually have in varying degrees—if we are so blessed.

In the Letter of James, we’re reminded that true Wisdom comes “from above.” We don’t manufacture it! The qualities of true Wisdom are gentleness, peacefulness, willingness to yield, and mercifulness. The wise person yields good fruits and isn’t partial or hypocritical. My hunch is if all of us could receive this gift of true Wisdom then we’d have really smooth sailing in the days ahead as we discern.

James reminds us, however, that things don’t always go so smoothly, especially when human beings act out of their own wills and not out of God’s Wisdom. Instead of being wise, folks often fall into “bitter envy and selfish ambition.” James says this leads to “disorder and wickedness of every kind.” James says the cause of these is our cravings and desires to have our personal pleasures. So we wrongly ask to have these desires satisfied. Then we get unfocused, and we forget that part about “willingness to yield” and “mercifulness.”

My hope of course, is that we could stay in God’s true Wisdom and avoid these other things! But my hunch is, being human beings, we at St. James will see a mixture of God’s true and gracious Wisdom mixed with our personal agendas, which sometimes won’t be the same thing!

Remember in the Gospel today even the disciples, those closest to Jesus, didn’t want to focus on the hard truth that Jesus had to suffer and die before he was raised. So they denied the real truth and got into an argument about who was the greatest. With the cravings and desires of their personal pleasures run riot, they got unfocused. But then Jesus brings them back in an amazing way.

He sets a Child—someone from the fringes of society, someone with no status or power—right in the center of them. He tells them to focus on the powerless Child; and that if they did that, they would, in fact, be focusing on God’s Truth, God’s Wisdom, even God’s very self!
.
Well, I’m not sure if the disciples really “got it”—the example of the Child in the center.
Maybe they just stayed in their bickering about who was the greatest, whose ideas were most important. Maybe they did not have the pure Wisdom to understand the Truth Jesus tried to convey. Maybe that’s just human nature. Maybe that’s what’s ahead for us at St. James.

But perhaps this isn’t inevitable.

The Letter of James tells us, “You do not have because you do not ask.” As the ordained spiritual leader of this congregation, I suggest we ask…ask for the gift of true Wisdom.
As James says, let’s “Submit ourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and know he will flee from us. Let’s draw near to God, and God will draw near to us.” What comforting words! What words of assurance that God is with us and wants to be near us!

And surely if God is near us then we will have that gift of true Wisdom, and all the other gifts we will need as we move forward into God’s preferred future…All we have to do is ask!

Let us pray. God of Grace and God of Glory, grant us Wisdom, grant us Courage for the facing of this hour…for the facing of this hour. Amen.

Sermon, September 13, 2009 by the Rev. Frances A. Hills, Rector

Here we are in mid-September. Vacations over. Teachers and students back to school.
And next week, our Sunday School will begin a new class for children three-years and up. This time of year is exciting: New classes, teachers and students. New things to study and learn. New books. New friends.

It would have been nice on this “back-to-school Sunday” to hear that lovely scripture from Matthew (19:14) “Let the little children come unto me.” Or that scene in Acts (8:26ff) when Philip asks the Eunuch, “Do you understand what you are reading?” He replies, “How can I, unless someone guides me?” (Unless I have a teacher.) But NO…The Revised Common Lectionary and the Letter of James really put a bit of a damper on our back-to-school enthusiasm, “Not many of you should become teachers, my brothers and sisters, for you know that we who teach will be judged with greater strictness.” Then it talks about how important and unruly our tongues are. (The words that come out of our mouths.)

If you’re a preacher or a teacher it calls us up short. ‘Maybe makes us want to be excessively careful about what we say…After all, we teachers & preachers do use our voices to do our work, so the chances of our making mistakes, of verbally blowing it, are probably greater than for many others. . . just because of the odds—we talk a lot! .This reading may even make us wonder a little if we should be teachers. Certainly it plays into my sinful tendency towards perfectionism.

However one New Testament scholar (Mary Hinkle) suggests, and I agree, the point of what James is saying in this passage is not so much about saying the right thing or trying to be perfect. In fact James admits, “All of us make many mistakes.” The point is about making sure our actions match our words…And especially in the case of the “little ones” with whose care we are charged. These little ones—God’s Children, students young and old, are precious to God. James warns us against doing anything hypocritical as we teach them. Besides, you know children…They know immediately if what we say doesn’t match what we do! So if our parish “says” our children are important to us, then we need to be and do things that embody that for them. Or think about our Baptismal Covenant. In it we pledge “To strive for justice and peace among all people and respect the dignity of every human being.” But if we welcome the rich and turn away the poor, what we’re doing doesn’t match what we’re saying in the Covenant. Or, if in one breath we praise God for the goodness and beauty of creation, and in the next say something unfavorable about another human being, who is part of that creation, we are hypocrites. And we’re not speaking the truth about God because God made all human beings in God’s likeness and image: So all human beings are created good. Who are we to demean or judge another human being whom God has made? Who are we to decide we know better than God, and so declare some things “not good?” When we say and do these things, our actions give lie to our words. And so the warning and strict judgment in the Letter of James is to all who teach, preach, pray, praise or just talk about God. Said differently, as Christians, we’ve not only got to “talk the talk” but also “walk the walk.”

Now over the centuries, some Christians have been very critical of the Letter of James. They think his intent is “Works Righteousness.” By that I mean trying to earn our way into God’s good graces by what we do and say. We’ll, if that is what James had in mind, I’d criticize him too because we are saved by God’s grace, not by our good works. But I don’t think that’s what the Letter of James is about at all. I think James is saying if we truly accept our acceptance, which God gives us as free gift, then the only way we could possibly respond is in words and acts of love.

So as we begin this new school year, I invite all of us—as teachers, parents, grandparents, preachers and friends, to offer our children the great gift of not only Talking the Talk but also of Walking the Walk…
Let us pray…
Almighty God, heavenly Father, you have blessed us with the joy, care and teaching of children: Give us calm strength and patient wisdom as we bring them up, that we may teach them to love whatever is just and true and good. And that whatever we speak to them with our lips, we may show forth to them in our lives, following the example of our Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

Piñatas--from Jake Pinkston on teaching mission in Honduras

I am in the midst of enjoying a week long vacation from classes. I am sure many of you are asking yourselves, “Wait. They have been in school less than a month. A week long vacation? Who’s in charge down there? This is crazy.” Well maybe not. However, that about sums up my reaction as I watched any sort of classroom continuity and rhythm drift down the storm drain. There is some rationale to it however. Some.

Thursday was the Day of the Child, so the entire school spent the day participating in a service project (more on that later). Then Friday and Monday were special programs that no one really explained besides saying that I would not have any classes to teach. Tuesday is Independence Day and Wednesday is another day off. Why do all this right at the beginning of the school year? Well, it is only the beginning of the school year for bilingual private schools that follow the American school calendar. For the public schools that began the school year in February, they are in the home stretch / pseudo spring break mode. Our vacation actually is shorter than most schools, which get about 10 days off total.

I am still scratching my head, but all I can do is roll with it and get ready for next week. I am enjoying the time off by catching up on my grades and class prep, walking around the city, and curling up with a book next to my high powered floor fan. I understand now why dogs like to stick their heads out the car window at 45mph. I need goggles. My eyes are drying out. But it is so comfortable. I will check out the festivities on Tuesday.

I was not familiar with the holiday el Dia de los Niños before coming to Honduras. Held on September 10th, the best way that I can describe it is national little-kid-birthday-party day. The teachers and parents throw parties with kid-friendly food and cake, the children receive gift bags with small toys and candy, and often times there is a piñata for the kids to hack away at. The women at church threw another small party to celebrate the occasion today after the services. It’s a fun day. The kids run around, bicker over candy and have a good time while the adults keep an eye on things, clean-up the mess, and console the few who have been gravely and unjustly wronged by one of their peers. It was the St. James Easter Egg hunt all over again.

The 10th grade class elected to organize a community project and use the day to go serve and minister to the small children living in the nearby pueblo of La Linea. I chaperoned the excursion along with Betty, the English teacher but besides lining up transportation, the students planned and executed the whole day on their own. It could not have gone better.

We crammed 15 people into a van no larger than a station wagon (seat belts only exist for the driver in Honduras) and drove about twenty minutes east along the coast. La Linea has about 50 residents and gets its name from the old Standard Fruit railroad bed it follows. Most of the residents make their living making palm oil while subsisting on corn crops and fishing. The pueblo has no power, only a couple spigots for running water and is about a half mile hike to get to.

All the kids in the town were waiting for us outside a large, elevated, multifamily house when we arrived. They had canceled classes because we were coming and were very excited to have us there. One of the “back-up singers” from church came with his guitar and after saying a prayer, led the children in some songs while the students were setting up. The 10th grade girls served chips with refried beans, chicken salad sandwiches, brownies and Tang from the kitchen area, which was open with a mud floor and a wood burning stove. They also offered face painting and passed out balloons and stickers. The children loved blowing the balloons up and popping them behind people. They made me jump a couple of times.

I don’t think the 10th grade boys were expecting such a young and girl heavy crowd (the median age was probably 6 years old and at least two thirds female). However, realizing that their hopes of spending the morning lazily playing soccer were dashed, they regrouped and organized games like limbo and musical chairs that produced lots of laughs and participation. By far the most entertaining activity of the morning was the piñata. The danger of a small, blindfolded child swinging a large stick as hard as she can in all directions while other children dive across the ring, dodging the flailing attacks in an attempt to capture a small piece of congealed corn syrup cannot be understated. It really should be an American Gladiator event. The 10th graders managed to have every child get a chance to take some cuts without a single injury. However, though mortally wounded, the yellow paper mache duck refused to yield its sucro-licious delights. Wisely recognizing God’s divine providence, the boys elected to go with a controlled candy release, thus eliminating the bludgeon variable from the ensuing dog pile. A good decision. After that, we cleaned up, said good-byes and drove back to school.

The Day of the Child was a wonderful opportunity to be an observer and see the students interact with the young children and each other outside of class. Every student found a way to help out and participate in their own way and I got to see and appreciate personalities that tend to be more subdued in the classroom. Again this was a project that was, from conception to completion, their project. Betty and I were just there to make sure that everyone was accounted for and we got there on time. They did a super job and I could not have been more impressed. It is really wonderful to see the students not just receiving the ministry that Mike, Betty, and I do everyday but take that service into their own hands and reach out to their own people who need them.

“Like good stewards of the manifold grace of God, serve one another with whatever gift each of you has received.” 1 Peter 4:10

Sorry this is posted a little later than usual. My internet (and power) have been a little spotty over the past few days and I guess it didn’t post when I thought it did. Thank you for your continued support of my work here in Honduras. Your prayers and contributions have been overwhelming and I could not be here without them. This year has already challenged and inspired me more than I ever could have imagined. I cannot begin to express how thankful I am for this amazing opportunity to work with these students. I am truly blessed to be able to call St. James’ my home church.

Singing Praises--from Jake Pinkston on teaching mission in Honduras

I have always loved how every Episcopal congregation celebrates Sunday Eucharist in their own distinct way. You would think that with one of the most organized and documented liturgies in among the Christian sects, the venerable Book of Common Prayer, there would be a cookie cutter effect across the Anglican Communion. Yet every chapel, church, and cathedral has found the loopholes to create their own proprietary brand of Anglican worship. And of course, these Sunday faithful will passionately inform you, if you dare to broach the subject that their way is without question, the best.

I have been attending weekly worship service at Holy Trinity every Sunday since I arrived and would like to share some of my observations and experiences at the services.

The church is a small, square cinderblock and concrete, one room building that is on the corner of the school property. There are maybe 10 rows of pews made of termite resistant wood that don’t quite match stylistically as you move from back to front. The book rests on the back are a little short so when you sit down, it is advisable to check behind you first. The windows are of the Venetian blind style that is very popular in Honduras. The church is adorned only with paintings marking the Stations of the Cross and a simple gold cross on the altar. Neri, the rector, makes beautiful bouquets of tropical flowers from her garden for the front of the altar every Sunday.

The congregation is for the most part student families and faculty members of the school. There are usually between 20 and 30 attendants on any given week plus the children who spend the middle part of the service in Sunday school. I usually sit with Mike and Betty so that between the three of us, one will catch the page number we are supposed to be on.

The biggest change by far has following the service in Spanish. I have heard the Rite II service so many times in English that I seldom use the BCP at home. While my Spanish is pretty good, I find that I have to read along in the book in order to follow the service. The act of reading and translating the liturgy, even though it is very familiar, has been a neat experience. It has forced me to think about every word that I would normally buzz right by and made me a more active participant in the service.

If there is anything that Hondurans excel at, it is prayer. There is no such thing as a short prayer in Honduras. It doesn’t matter if it is in the Pre-Sermon, Post-Sermon, Pre-Peace, Post-Communion, or Dismissal. Once those eyes close, out comes the divinity thesis, complete with several Bible passages, a rhetorical flourish or two, and enough adjectives and titles for Jesus Christ to make any Gospel writer jealous. Today’s service time: 2 hours, 8 minutes. There is only one word to describe it: epic.

By far the most distinctive part of the service at Trinity is the music. The only way to describe it would be late 80’s synth-rock. Nobody reads music so most of the songs people already know or pick up by ear. The organist, Nelson, wears a black collared shirt with “Rock Star” written across the back and has a faux hawk. He rocks a keyboard and a PA system that is turned up to eleven (Spinal Tap, anyone?). Every song begins with a with programmable drum beat intro and the only person you can here sing in the whole church is Nelson, and occasionally his two back-up singers if they get close to his mic. I don’t think their mics actually work. The songs are pop-style tunes and we will usually sing them two, three, even four timea through. It is all up to Nelson. He likes to play quietly (sort of) behind Reverend Neri while she is giving her extended prayers, just to add effect. Most of the tunes I have never heard but Bob Dylan’s, “Blowing in the Wind” has made an appearance along with “The Sound of Silence” accompanying The Lord’s Prayer. Everyone in the church has a great time, clapping along, not necessarily in time. It is a powerful experience to be a part of because it is so passionate and organic. I love it.

A man was baptized today in church with a few members of his family and his fiancé looking on. When it was over, there was almost water left in the baptismal font. That is Trinity church life in a nut shell. The church is small, the congregation is small, but the experience is huge.

“O my strength, I will sing praises to you,
For you, O God, are my fortress, the God who shows me steadfast love.”
Psalm 61:17

Soapy Bubbles

As I sit on my couch, listening to the distant singing and preaching of the Sunday evening evangelical church down the road, I can’t believe I have been here for two weeks now. Life has settled down a bit and I feel like I have finally finished moving in. My apartment has brand new peach colored curtains on the east facing bay window, which means I no longer have to wear sunglasses while eating breakfast in the morning. I have a new shelf above the sink so now I can distinguish between clean and dirty dishes. I even figured out where the Laundromat is (its called Soap Opera…) and had my laundry done. Yup, I finally live here.

The first week of classes at Holy Trinity went by in a blur. I am teaching five sections of science now. The initial plan was four, but the 7th grade teacher had to resign the first day of school for family reasons so I volunteered to pick it up. I am teaching Life Science to the 7th grade, Earth Science to the 8th grade, Physical Science to the 9th grade and Biology and Chemistry to the 10th grade. Not a lot of overlap there, but I am enjoying the variety.

The first two days of the week were orientation so I didn’t have any formal classes, just a lot of introductions and scrambling to make sure everyone had the right books. The books for 10th grade did not arrive until yesterday so I am very thankful to the Gray’s for providing me with such great resources. The math teacher volunteered to cover the 10th grade Physics class and was thrilled when I passed on the teacher’s edition to her. What a gift!

At Camp Hi-Rock, where I have worked in various positions for the past seven summers, we have a tradition in the youngest boys unit. On the second night of every session after campfire, we read the boys, “The Place You’ll Go” by Dr. Seuss. If you are not familiar with the title, it is a wonderful book about moving on to new places and the journey that comes with every transition. It is one of my favorite books, but I did not actually own the book until about 4 hours before I got on the plane in Newark. I spent about a half an hour on the cell phone with Mom as she found the nearest Barnes and Noble online. I tried to key it into the GPS while Will instructed me as to which buttons I should be pushing and kept us in the correct lane. The effort proved to be well worth it. After going through the class rules and expectations, I read the book to all four of the grades (I have it about memorized by now…) and they were thrilled. I hope they take the book’s message to heart as much as I have.

If last week was any indication of the future, the lab classes are going to be a lot of fun. In an effort to strengthen its science curriculum, Holy Trinity has constructed a science lab with the help of several mission teams over the last two years. My goal is to get every class in there at least once every two weeks. Because we don’t have much in terms of traditional science supplies, each week will pose a new challenge as I try to get everything together in time. Last week, I had two classes do a lab on bubble making to practice the scientific method. Using straws, I had them test whether soap solutions with salt, sugar, or just soap would make the biggest bumbles. It was the first time most of them had ever done a lab and the kids got really into it and had a lot of fun. The only two hiccups in the operation were the 9th grader who got a little ambitious and ended drinking a gulp of the solution and the 8th grade group who missed (ignored?) the instructions, blew bumbles into their cups of solution and inundated their work station and themselves in a wave of suds. It seems like the best learning opportunities come when things don’t go quite to plan. I think those students now appreciate soapy bubbles more than I ever will be able to.

“Let the little children come to me, and do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs. Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.” Luke 18: 16-17

Sermon, August 23, 2009 by The Rev. Frances A. Hills, Rector

Being part of St. James has become more of a major commitment than it was.
It’s not just showing up on Sunday and getting your bread and wine, maybe some inspiring words, some uplifting music, some good fellowship and food, and perhaps some kind of ministry in which to participate. And then being nicely re-charged for another week out in the world…wherever, whatever we do.

Now being part of St. James is even more than ever like being part of a big family
that has a reunion every week—Not in someone’s home, with everything you need right at hand, like before—but in a rented hall. More and more have to pitch in to get us all set up to be together, to make Holy Space in a room that was intended for commercial, secular use. And, after we’ve gathered, many have to help to make sure things are all back in place and taken away until next time.

It’s like a big family too in that the members are all going many different directions. They are interested in different things, and passionate about all kinds of things. Some are growing, changing, taking off into deeper faith journeys and new, energetic missions and ministries. Others, having “been there and done that,” just need to rest and be nurtured themselves —for once.

And like in a family, when things get complicated…financially, insurance-wise, legally, and emotionally…the members have to step-up-to-the-plate and sometime deal with things they’re not trained to do. Sometimes they have to ask for expert help.


It’s also like being part of a big family that’s in the process—a long process—
of making some very big decisions. And, like a family, each person has their own ideas
about what needs to happen. Everyone knows what we decide really matters, and it will impact many generations to come. Being part of St. James today is harder than we thought. Certainly it’s harder than I thought it would be when I came as your rector in December 2007.

Now, we don’t know their reasons, but John’s Gospel today tells us,
“Many of his disciples turned back and no longer went about with him.”
Following Jesus was harder than they’d thought. More of a commitment
than they’d bargained for. You can here Jesus’ hurt and insecurity and a plaintive note when he asks the 12 Disciples, “Do you also wish to go away?”
(Andrew, Peter, Philip, Nathanael, John, Judas, Thomas, James, John, Matthew, Bartholomew and Simon…are you in?)

I know we can be tempted right now to try to find an easier way to follow Jesus
than being members of St. James. My fervent hope is that we, like the 12, will hang in there, as we have done for this past year. I hope we, like the 12, will stay and follow Him through this challenging, amazing time.

How are we going to do this? As I told you before, there was no class in seminary called, “What to do if the wall falls-101”, but I think we can take a cue from Ephesians.
We can “put on the whole armor of God.” When we first hear this word, “armor,”
we might think of physical weapons and military garb. At a psychological level,
we might think of “steeling ourselves” for what’s ahead, and so we don’t let things into us very deeply. We hope to avoid getting hurt or being “eaten alive.” We imagine putting on a thick armor, a tough coat, over our hearts.

But in Ephesians, this “Whole Armor of God” seems to be a very different thing
from either the physical, military armor or the psychological steeling armor.
Let’s look at what makes up God’s armor, and let’s think about how
this can help us at St. James through this difficult time.

The center of God’s Armor is TRUTH. That’s “the belt.” For over a year now,
we’ve been in the process of collecting the “facts,” the “truth” about the condition
of our building, In addition, the leadership of this parish has been committed to telling you the Truth about what is going on.

At a different, relational level, it behooves us to speak the “truth” in community
about our thoughts and feelings. We need to be open to what each other is thinking and feeling. In our sharing and listening to each other’s TRUTH, I believe God will show us the way forward.

Next and close to the heart is the Breastplate of Righteousness. Righteousness is right relationship with God, each other, and ourselves. Certainly this is at the heart. It is
core to us as a Christian community. In our time on the road, we’re learning more and more,“The Church is the people, not the building.” So the relationships among the people need to be right…righteous. I believe right relationship is our Breastplate, and if
we work at keeping our relationships right, our hearts will be protected.

Then when all kinds of negative voices and pressures seem to come at us
like a barrage of arrows, we’ll have the Shield of Faith: Knowing that God is with us,
that we’re not alone, that love is stronger than death, and that Jesus came so that we can have abundant life. With FAITH we can ward off the negativity and the pressure,
and eventually come out unscathed.

On our heads, the Helmet of Salvation: The promises of Jesus that we share in his life & resurrection. This can give us tremendous COURAGE because Jesus has already done everything for us.

In our hands is the Sword of the Spirit. We don’t need to fight armed with anything but God’s Spirit and word.

And finally there are those SHOES. “Put on whatever will make you ready to
proclaim the gospel of peace.” This is what we’re ultimately about: Proclaiming the Gospel. It’s a Gospel not of military war or of closing our hearts to one another.
It’s a Gospel of reconciliation and peace. This is why we are here as God’s Church.
If we remember this at St. James, we’ll figure out what shoes to wear, and we will serve God’s Church well. Then when Jesus plaintively asks us, “Do you also wish to go away?” we’ll put on that Belt of Truth and say passionately, “No, Jesus, we’re in.”
Amen.