"An Accomplishment For Us All" from Jake Pinkston on teaching mission in Honduras

Mike, Damaris' Mother, Damaris, Betty and Jake after giving Damaris her gifts for her upcoming study in the United States.

Passport..Check
Flight tickets…Check
Visa Application…...Check ;D
Yes thank God everything is perfect so far!
Visa approved! Yay ;D


Damaris

At the beginning of the school year, I gave my students my cell phone number should they ever need to contact me with questions (excuses) regarding assignments. I have seriously questioned this judgment after several late night rambles and misdials, but on Friday, I was jumping for joy. Damaris, my top student in the tenth grade class, texted me as she walked out of the United States Embassy in Tegucigalpa, the Honduran capital. She was finally, for sure, going to the United States.

The process began in back in mid-February. Two months removed from Christmas vacation, two months away from Holy Week vacation and the end of the term bearing down fast, we were in the no-man’s-land part of the school calendar. The students were dragging. I was balancing on the edge of sanity. And dry season has begun so it was screaming hot (recall we have no AC in the classrooms). Times were good.

Into my email pops an update from the Bishop’s office about a summer program in Tennessee. The University of the South, also known as Sewanee, runs a three week math and science intensive program for students entering their senior year in high school. The Bridge Program comes with a full scholarship but a competitive admissions process and only 20 participants. As the one of the nine Episcopal affiliated universities in the United States, Sewanee and the Bridge Program were working to expand their international admission and invited the students from the schools within the Honduran Diocese to apply.

Veronica, the rector at Holy Trinity, was excited about the prospect of international experience for our students and put me in charge of the application process. Veronica set up a meeting with the parents of possible applicants to explain the program and the student’s responsibilities. Unfortunately, her mother became very ill and for the next three weeks, she was out of school and out of contact. The meeting never happened. The due date arrived and went.

Shoot.

Veronica and I regrouped. We reread the fine print. The website did not say explicitly that late applications would not be considered. Recognizing the level of academics achieved so far at our school, we were not sure that our students stood much of a chance anyways. We decided that regardless of the odds and our tardiness, we would have the students apply, if only for the experience of filling out a school application, and put it in God’s hands. I rounded up the best students in the 10th and 11th grades, Damaris included, and I gave them the application.

With third term final exams wrapped up, I had their full, though fragmented attentions. We were getting this done. Now. We walked through the questions on the application, highlighting the information they needed to find out from their families. We brainstormed the two essays and made outlines. I sent them home for the weekend to write their drafts.

Monday afternoon rolled around and the computer teacher graciously gave us full access to the computer lab, the only classroom in the school that is air conditioned. Alleluia! We began the editing process after lunch. The students reworked their drafts then sent them to me via facebook (how the times change). I marked them up, sent them back, and they got back to work while I put together the recommendations and transcripts. In the process, I checked the website to find Sewanee had extended the due date. Things were looking up.

Just before 7:00 pm, the printer haltingly spat out Damaris’ final draft. The other students had finished a few minutes before. I folded it carefully into the envelope. We both stumbled out of the lab and were met by a blast of humid evening air. We had done all we could do. The following morning I dropped off the whole package at FedEx and it was gone. The waiting game began.

Unfortunately, Sewanee did not post an acceptance date. After about a week, every morning I was assailed with a variation on the question, “Have you heard anything yet?”. Damaris especially was giddy with excitement. I was chewing my fingernails off. Knowing that 20 students from the Honduran diocese alone applied, our odds were long at best. The fact that these competing students came from schools that regularly had students accepted into 4 year programs made me even more apprehensive. This is not even accounting for all the US applicants. The wait continued.

I was playing tennis on a Sunday afternoon in April when I got a call from Damaris. The first thing that popped in my head was she was calling about a Biology presentation that was due the following day. Straining to comprehend through the static of my cheap cell phone, I heard her say something about Sewanee. My heart almost jumped out of my chest as I asked her to repeat, nearly jamming the junky thing into my ear canal. She had been accepted! I pulled the phone away and whooped for joy, my tennis partner giving me a quizzical look. I was on cloud nine. After overwhelming her with a flood of congratulations at a volume completely inappropriate for phone conversation, she finally got me off the phone. I immediately called Veronica to tell her the news and was met with the full Alleluia chorus, praising God for his great works. My face hurt from smiling.

That Monday, Veronica and I were both brought back a little closer to Earth as we accessed what the next steps were. Damaris needed a passport. She needed a visa to enter the US. With two months to go before she took off, this needed attention. But most of all, she needed a plane ticket.

Damaris comes from a family modest means; her father is an evangelical priest at a small church and her mother a public school teacher (the government recently gutted the pension fund and withheld pay for the last 6 months). Damaris has been our star student since she joined in elementary school. She has maintained an average above a 95% for her entire career while serving a class president and playing on the volleyball team. For these reasons, Damaris is on full academic scholarship. I could tell that the administrative costs were going to be a challenge for her family and the prospect of an $800 ticket was a major hurdle.

Ultimately however, a hurdle it was not. After asking Francie to spread the word, the St. James congregation once again blessed me and my students with their generosity and support. Damaris’ mother was in tears when I shared with her the great news that her plane ticket was covered. Mike and Betty, missionaries for three years and visiting, surprised Damaris with more funds they had raised to cover her airport expenses.

Damaris got her passport, we bought her plane ticket, and then filled out the visa application. After answering the tough questions as to whether Damaris was a terrorist, prostitute, drug smuggler, disease carrier, or wanted criminal, we sent off it off. Damaris drove the 7 hours trek to Tegus for her interview at the Embassy. After a 15 minute conversation, she was officially cleared to go to the United States to study.

Everyday I am here in Honduras, I am reminded of the loaves and fishes story, of Jesus’ disciples looking over a vast crowd and realizing their message had got the people hungry, but now the disciples had to feed them. It is hard enough to energize and inspire, to convince people that they can succeed. Finding the resources to sustain it is often an even more difficult challenge. Yet everyday God provides when we need it most. I emailed Francie with hope and faith, as I have many times before. Once again I was astounded by the response. I have been so blessed by the parishioners of St. James in my 2 years in Honduras. Words cannot describe the gratitude I owe to all of you. You have shown much faith and confidence in me and my mission work, and it has driven me to give my students the very best I have had to offer. Damaris’ accomplishment is one that we all can share in: her family, her teachers, Holy Trinity, and St. James. Just as an engine needs fuel, the body needs the spirit. I could not have done it with out you.

Thank you.

“And taking the fives loaves and the tow fish, he looked up to heaven and blessed and broke them, and gave them to the disciples to set before the crowd. And all ate and were filled. What was left over was gather up, twelve baskets of broken pieces.”
Luke 9 : 16-17

Below I have included a thank you letter from Damaris. I will post her updates on the blog as she sends them to me.

Dear brothers and sisters of the Saint James Episcopal Church,

A fraternal greeting in the love of Jesus. I thank God for you and for the opportunity that you have given me to study in the United States.
Thank you for the financial contribution and support you have given me to attend the summer program of Math and Science at the University of the South in Tennessee. It is a blessing from God. Knowing how special Mr. Jake is, I can say that so are you. I am looking forward to giving you updates of my studies and experiences. May the Lord bless you and keep you safe.

Sincerely,
Damaris

Episcopal Tourist, Trinity Church

Yes, I am Still in St Louis. Last week I was at the cathedral. This week I chose Trinity, a small parish within walking distance. They describe themselves as Inclusive, Diverse, Anglo Catholic. When I entered about 10 minutes before the service there were only a few people, but just like at St James they all came in at the last minute. There were 75 or so in all. The congregation did appear to be as advertised, gay, straight, black white, economically diverse etc., and very friendly.

The organist began with the majestic Nimrod movement from Elgar's Enigma Variations. It begins softly and lyrically but swells eventually to a great and sonorous fortissimo. Again I was very moved by the beauty and tonal splendor of the "King of Instruments."

All the elements of high church were present here incense, bells, chanting, procession, vestments etc. The priest chanted in a rather small voice and it was a bit hard to hear. The opening hymn was 368 Holy God we praise thy name.

There was a bit of drama, the first reader did not appear and at a signal from the rector an acolyte quickly went to the lectern. By this point the assigned reader had realized her error and was coming down the aisle. But she was too late and had to slink back to her seat.

After a chanted psalm and the second reading we had a full tilt Gospel procession. Again, they stopped right in front of me. The Gospel book was censed and Deacon Leip read John 14:1-14.

The Deacon also preached the sermon. He began by welcoming us to the day after the rapture provoking quite a good laugh. He them immediately plunged into the text which can be so troubling to non fundamentalist Christians. It is so often used to exclude Here is the circle. We are inside and you are not. Then in presenting the importance of context, he explained that this Gospel was the last to be written some 90 years later. Community was of great importance to the Jews and to the early church. To be cut off was devastating. The Jews were beginning to expel the Christians from the Synagogues. John sets forth a new community with Jesus at the center. The other implication , that those who do not profess faith in Christ are dammed to hell was not the intent. Our Presiding Bishop got into a lot of trouble with our own theological conservatives when she said that to say that God was not working in other ways was was putting limits on Him. He asked ironically "Does God hate the same people you do?"

Deacon Leip spoke also of his work in a local hospital with other ministers and rabbis, of the respect they gave to each other and then asked "does not God hear all who work for justice, compassion, and transformation of suffering. Is he not present in nature, in a baby's cry and in our last breath?" Amen!!

The children came in with exuberance and were welcomed by all.

We exchanged the peace after the short prayers of the people. The small choir made a valiant attempt at a Samuel Sebastian Wesley anthem O Lord my God. The Eucharist was celebrated, Rite II form B. The Sanctus was the familiar Schubert but the fraction was the Welsh hymn all through the night sung to "For the gift of earth and heaven thanks be to God." I received kneeling at the altar rail. Fresh baked bread was used and gluten free host was also available. The final hymn was 375 Give praise and glory unto God. This was not the recessional as the altar team waited for the postlude From the South Sea Islands by Alan Rideout. This was a delightfully rhythmic and syncopated piece. The numerous children danced happily as did the rector Anne Kelsey as she processed out. Everyone in the congregation enjoyed this immensely and applauded organist Jeffery Nall with enthusiasm.

Several people came up to me and we had some nice conversation. I spoke with the rector and deacon. They and others invited me to coffee hour where I met several others , some of whom were big opera fans who either attended or worked as volunteers or as board members. Eventually we had to leave as they were setting up a soup kitchen in that room.

This is a lovely, very friendly small, parish and the Anglo-Catholic ritual was dignified and well done without any hint of stiffness.

Episcopal Tourist, Christ Church Cathedral St Louis

Sunday I went for services at Christ Church Cathedral in downtown St Louis. It was a cold, rainy, windy, and gloomy morning but there was nothing gloomy about the greeting I received as I entered the narthex. A jolly usher, obviously oblivious to the cold dressed in shorts and Hawaiian shirt, gave me a bulletin as others also said hello and held the door for me.

As I came in to this large Gothic church my eyes were immediately drawn to the magnificent Reredos a 35 foot high wall of intricately carved stone. It presents much of the history of Christianity with Saints, Apostles, Prophets, Patriarchs, Martyrs, Angels, Archangels and nearly all the company of Heaven, with our Lord in the center of it all. Here is a link to a guide.

This appears to be a diverse urban congregation White, African American, straight, gay, etc. There were around 150 or so.

The prelude on "St Columbia" gave me a good opportunity to hear the 65 rank Aeolian Skinner organ opus from 1965. Tears welled up as I again realized how much I miss this beautiful sound.

The processional was #645 The King of love my Shepherd is. I have been sick the past few days and struggled a bit in singing it. The Gloria was by Richard Proulx not familiar to me but a very good setting. The readers were excellent, I needed no text and none was provided. We sang the Pslam in simplified Anglican Chant. The Gospel procession stopped right beside me as we sang #343 Shepherd of Souls.

The sermon was delivered by a young Seminarian Jonathan Stratton on his last Sunday before graduation. He was a fine speaker, passionate and with a clear message. Most of his references came from the Acts 2:42-47 reading with its vision of the early church whose members sold their possessions and pooled their resources so that all needs were met. It was an idyllic vision of harmony which he pointed out was not the reality we usually now find in church. But Luke may have embelished the story leaving out the conflict. Luke spoke of three important needs for a spiritual community , community life, immersion in spiritual discipline, and frequent Eucharist. This fine sermon got me to thinking what this bright young man's future might bring. At a recent discernment seminar in our diocese those considering the priesthood were reminded over and over that it was unlikely that they would be able to earn a full living and would need another source of income in order to live and pay off Seminary debts. We are so fortunate that there are good dedicated, intelligent people willing to take on this difficult and uncertain path!

The prayers of the people were short, but the peace went on for a long time. People were very friendly and I did not feel lost.

The Eucharist was celebrated and I went up to receive at the high altar. Most people were communed by name but the priest not knowing mine said with great warmth "Brother , the bread of Christ".

Announcements were after the Easter Blessing and before the recessional which seemed sensible.

Afterwards I listened a bit to the postlude and spoke with a number of people. The choir was quite shorthanded thought they did a fine job. They have six sopranos but only one was well enough to sing today which explained why they had scrapped the Orlando di Lasso communion motet for a simple plainchant with some nice improvisations between verses.