Water Education
rlp on January 14th, 2008 | Filed under Personal Update
Saturday Afternoon, January 12, 2008 This entry was meant to be posted Sunday,
but Internet outages made that impossible. As usual, I have pictures with captions posted
from Saturday afternoon and evening at Flickr. Pictures
here, slideshow
here. One of the most important things Edge Outreach
does is sanitation education and training. It’s well and good to setup some kind
of purification system, but if people don’t know how to use it or if something
goes wrong with it, they can be worse off than they were before. They could be
trusting water that isn’t clean. Saturday afternoon half of us went to the home
of a man that everyone here calls pastor Antonio. He lives in a very poor part
of town, and though he is confined to a wheelchair, he works and ministers in
this little community. 80 to 100 people come to his house to get clean water
from an Edge system that was put in a few months ago.
On this day pastor Antonio found a group of
children from the area to come and learn about water cleanliness and general
sanitation issues. There were a number of adults that showed up as well, though
the presentation was definitely geared toward children. Edge has a set education program for children
in other countries, based on pictures. All you need is children, the pictures,
and a translator. This was about as poor a neighborhood as I’ve
seen here in Santo Domingo. There is a vacant lot next to the pastor’s home
where they meet for church services if it is not raining. That vacant lot is
also, apparently, the local trash dump. There was a smoldering stump no more
than 5 yards from the stage. And yet the children were spotless and dressed
in their finest clothes. Truly, these families take great pride in their
children.
I suppose the teaching would seem rather
obvious and simple to many, but the fact is, great numbers of people in poorer
areas do not know that bacteria in water cannot be seen. Just because water is
clear does not mean it is safe. In one part of the training, the team uses a
little wooden doll, jokingly referred to privately as Diarrhea Debbie. Her
stomach is a clear baggie of clean water. Something dark is introduced, clouding
the water and making Debbie sick. The bag is punctured and she loses her water.
At this point the team talks about the necessity of hydration if you have
diarrhea. Well, Debbie’s bag got punctured in the wrong
place on this day, and she sprayed water sideways on Amber and all over the
stage. The children were delighted. Howls of laughter! But apart from that, things went very well. We
broke out some balloons at the end and got mobbed by the children. I made as
many balloon sombreros as I could before we had to get on the bus. At this point, all of our work was done. Both
purification systems were in place, and we had visited this previous
installation to check on it and do further education. Saturday evening, we went out to eat at a Dominican
restaurant, treating ourselves, our driver, and our interpreters to a fine meal.
Not wanting to miss out on the experience of Dominican food, I ordered a lot and
then shared it with anyone who wanted to try things. I had boiled Yuca
(pronounced “Jooka” here), fried plantains, rice and beans Dominican Republic
style, and skewered chicken. It was all delicious. The plantains were not sweet
at all, more like fried potatoes.
Sunday morning, the women from Murray State fly
out. The rest of us will attend church with our hosts and do a couple of final
things. Monday morning I'll try to post some final pictures and thoughts from
the trip. As always, internet access is irregular. I'll post when I can. 
Pastor Antonio's house. This room and two small
bedrooms.
The system is on his tiny back porch. One tank for
purifying, two on the roof for storage. He purifies three or four tanks of
water, two days a week for the community.


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Edge in the Dominican - continued
rlp on January 14th, 2008 | Filed under Personal Update
Saturday, January 12, 2008 Yesterday half of our team came very close to
completing the purification installation at Cure Hospital in Santo Domingo. If
you'd like to see the hospital using Google Earth, plug the following coordinate
string into the search box that says "fly to." 18°28'30.14"N 69°54'26.27"W I have pictures from yesterday's work at the
hospital online at Flickr
here. Slideshow
here. There are a fair number of pictures
with captions and explanations of the work that was done. Today we're at the hospital finishing up some
electrical work and preparing to train the hospital engineer in the use of the
system. The system is easy, but constant testing of the chlorine levels is
essential. You have to carefully test each batch of purified water. Obviously,
if you do not, you're worse off than you were before. You're trusting the water
from the tap and it isn't clean. But the engineer is clearly an intelligent
and educated man, so it will be no problem for him.
Later today half of our team is going to an
previous installation to continue health training. I'll be with that group and
will report on that tonight or tomorrow morning. Mustard Seed Thoughts This whole situation reminds me of something
Jesus once said. We'll leave soon, and the hospital will have a continuous
supply of clean water. Someone from Edge will return in time to see how things
are going. Edge is committed to following up all of its installations. This one
is unusual because there is an engineer here who is capable of fixing the
system. They will probably be fine. In any case, most of us will never come
back. Children will come and go in this place. Some lives will be saved because
of the clean water. Other lives will be enriched. Suffering from infections,
etc. will be lessened. None of us can look into the future to see what will
come. Jesus once said, "The Kingdom of Heaven is like
a mustard seed. It is the smallest of seeds, but when it is planted, it grows
into a large tree and the birds of the air nest in its branches." So it is with
goodness and with evil. Seeds are planted, either in selfishness or in goodness
and service. What grows from those seeds is only known to those who are there.
The ones who planted the seeds often never know what good or evil comes of their
actions. Further, the idea of sin suggests that all of us have planted seeds of
evil from time to time. I know that I have. Grace is being forgiven for the evil
I have begun in this world. Redemption involves the changing of my heart and
life, so that I can be a part of goodness. Pretty simple deal really. I don't know why we
Christians have made it so complex. rlp
The original pump house
Working on the pump house
The new pump house
Our team in the tank enclosure
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Cold Showers and Water
rlp on January 14th, 2008 | Filed under Personal Update
Continuing Adventures from the Edge Outreach trip to the Dominican Republic
Friday, January 11th, 2007 Our team was split for the entire day today.
One part went back to the hospital. They didn't get back until late, so I'll not
be able to tell you about their work until tomorrow. The other team was the five
women from Murray State University who were in charge of the YWAM installation,
which is the one we paid for here at rlp. Hooray for us! I was hanging out with the young women, helping
some and taking pictures too. It was a basic installation. Two tanks in a
pumphouse, chlorinating the water and providing access at a spigot. It's not
fancy, but instead of buying 5-gallon bottles of water, they can fill them up
themselves at their pumphouse. This installation was done almost entirely by
these young women, lead by Courtney. We were all so proud of them. And I thought
you'd like to see some pictures of the water purifier you made possible with
your gifts. I have a lot of pictures up at Flickr, but I'll include a few here
as well.
The hospital team ran into some...issues. So
we're a little behind there, but I'm sure we'll catch up tomorrow. The whole
team is going to the hospital, then the Murray State women and I are going to a
previous installation to do some continued water health training. Please do check out the Flickr photos. They
show you more detail about the YWAM installation.
Pictures here.
Slideshow here. I've got a couple of free minutes here, so how
about some personal stuff? 1. Dominican Driving - Driving here in
the Dominican Republic is unlike anything I've ever seen. At first I was
terrified. People pull in front of each other with the smallest amount of space.
Motorcycles weave in and out of cars. Two cars will merge into the same lane,
barely missing each other, horns blaring. And yet, we saw no accidents. My
theory is that there are several elements going on. First, all traffic boils down to official
rules and unofficial morays. In the Dominican Republic, it's more morays
than rules. Everyone understands that if a person can pull in front of you,
they will. And it's your responsibility to watch out for that. Everyone
knows there will be motorcycles weaving around and people walking in the
street selling things. The whole thing forces you into a constant state of
defensive driving. You can't eat a sandwich or talk on the phone and drive
here. You have to be watching because on every trip, at least 5 or 6 people
are going to cut you off and pull in front of you or edge you over in your
lane. In the United States, we drive according to
strict rules and expect others to follow them. This leads to us being on
auto-pilot. Then when someone makes a mistake and pulls in front of us, we
might not notice it because we aren't expecting such a thing. I wouldn't be
at all surprised to find that there are less accidents in the D.R. than in
the U.S., though I have no figures to support that. 2. Cold Showers - There is no hot water
where we are staying. None. At first this seemed like a terrible inconvenience.
"How in the world am I supposed to take a cold shower?" I wondered. Well, guess
what - If you are dirty and tired, you'll take any shower you can get. That's
the first thing to remember. I don't have much experience with this, but
there seems to be two theories to surviving the cold shower. The first involves
sticking your head under the water and getting it wet, the pulling away,
shampooing, and sticking it back under to rinse. You basically do this with your
whole body. Quick wetting, soap without the cold water hitting you, then grit
your teeth for the rinse. The other option is to suck-it-up and stand
under the cold water until you get somewhat used to it. Then shower as usual. It
never feels comfortable, but you do get so that it doesn't bother you as much. I
recommend the second method, but then I've only been at this for 4 days. rlp
Courtney working on a water line.
Amanda working on the external spigot.
Putting together the Purifier
The finished system!
The team that put in YOUR purifier!
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What To Do with a Coloring Book Page
rlp on January 12th, 2008 | Filed under Personal Update
Thursday, January 10th, 2008 Pictures of our day along with captions and explanations can be found at Flickr.
Read this but don't miss the pictures. They give more details about the work we
are doing.
Click here for a complete list of pictures
and captions.
Click here to view them as a slideshow.
(Note: clicking a picture in the slideshow
displays the captions. Clicking again hides them.) We actually began work on the hospital
filtration system today. We placed three large, 400-liter tanks on a platform
right above the existing pump for the hospital cistern. We’ve dropped a pipe
into the cistern that will pump the water through our chlorination system and
into the tanks. Then a pipe will go from the tanks back into the main hospital
pump, allowing clean water to be pumped throughout the building. In a short
time, even the pipes will be cleaned by the chlorinated water.
There were several little glitches here and
there, nothing that Kurtis couldn’t figure out. We had to drill a hole for new
pipes into the back of the concrete housing for the existing pumping system.
Most of the morning was spent getting the tanks positioned and busting a whole
through 6 inches of concrete into the pump housing. During a slow time, some of
the team folded bandages and helped sort medical hardware in the pharmacy. At 2 pm, our team split in two. Half of us
continued working on the water system at the hospital. By the end of the day
they had run pipes from all three tanks to a central location where the
purification unit will be housed in a box of its own. The other half (me and the 5 women from Murray
State University) went to visit an orphanage in a very poor area of town. The
place was spotless on the inside, but very simple and poor. There didn’t seem to
be any area for the children to play outside, as far as I could see. When we
arrived they were lined up waiting for us. A fair number of these children have
disabilities of one kind or another.
They sang us a couple of prepared songs, which
made me really uncomfortable. I don’t think children like this should be made
into a dog-and-pony show. But this is their world and their country, and I
wasn't the one making those calls. So I listened to their sweet voices and
clapped appropriately. We brought balloons and candy and crayons and
coloring paper. You’d have thought Santa arrived in person and gave them the
whole world. We sang and played and hugged and made balloon hats and flowers and
swords. I took pictures of the kids with my digital camera, then turned it
around and showed them their pictures. They were delighted by this and crowded
around, wanting me to take more pictures. Courtney got attached to a young child
and held her in her arms most of the time. We connected with this crowd of
children in a whirlwind hour of delightful chaos. We just visited them and played. No big deal,
right? Well, it was obviously a big deal to them. And
yet, I couldn’t help thinking, “Yeah, but what are we doing for these kids,
really?” And one answer to that is - not much. They need money and food and
clothing and parents. And we came with our resources and time dedicated toward
our two water projects. This was a quick side-trip that we put together because
we had some spare time and we were asked to go. I mean, what can you do? Not go
because you’re not going to make a full commitment? So for this day, there was nothing we could do
except love them and play with them. And trust that when you love and play with
a child, it is a goodness that requires no explanation and no justification. You
don’t have to explain yourself to anyone. Two sisters caught my eye, both in wheelchairs,
both terribly small for their ages. Stephanie is 11, the same age as my youngest
daughter Lillian. But she has the body of a two-year-old. Her older sister Clara
is not much bigger, though she is 15. That’s the age of Shelby, my practically
grown and healthy middle child. In very crude Spanish I tried to tell them that
my own children were the same age. “Uh...Me Nina es (I tried to think of
the word for 11 but couldn't) eleven... tambien?" I’m really
embarrassed that I live in Texas and don’t know Spanish well enough to get out
such a simple sentence. That’s not correct, but maybe the idea got across. Stephanie and Clara and Pauline each colored a
picture of Jesus, signed their names on them in crayon, and gave them to me to
keep.
Gave them to me to keep. Gave them to me to
keep. For a moment, it seemed like the whole world narrowed to that instant in
time. Gave them to me to keep. Okay, just stop for moment. Stop your busy life
and think about this with me. What did it matter that we visited an orphanage
today? And what will it mean, ultimately, in the lives of these children? What
will this hour of fun mean to them? And what am I to do with these cheap,
coloring book pictures of Jesus? What value would you place upon them? Or what
would you give me in return for them? Wouldn’t you agree that in the eyes of
God, these pictures are worth more than the Mona Lisa? Do I really believe that? Yes, I think so. What
am I to do with the pictures? I don’t know. It’s quite a dilemma, isn’t it? I
can’t treat them like ordinary pieces of paper, right? I can’t throw them away -
God forbid. And if I take them home and tack them to the wall of my office at
our church, what does that mean? Does that mean I’ve committed something to
these little girls? Will I look at these drawings sometimes and tell people,
“Oh, those are from two little girls in an orphanage in the Dominican Republic
that I visited once upon a time." Will people who see these pictures think I'm a
nice guy because I spent an hour in an orphanage one afternoon? See, there’s no good answer to this. I ask you,
what am I going to do with these pictures? Hurting children have a way of doing this to
you. Their presence demands some kind of response. I wish I could give them
enough to care for them for the rest of their lives. But I’m pretty used up
these days. Long on ideas and feelings but short on time and strength and money.
And my oldest daughter is talking about a trip to Moldova this December that
will likely end with our family making a commitment to a child or two for the
next decade or so. That’s the problem with the depth of the need in the world.
It is endless. But listen to me now. You just CANNOT let that
get you down. Or at least you cannot let is stop you from giving yourself to
every small act of goodness that you can. Don’t worry about the big picture.
Just find something good to do for someone, and DO IT. If enough of us commit ourselves to small acts
of goodness, the world really does begin to be a better place. And if not, well, then the hell with the world.
Live in your small moments of goodness. Just live there and let that be your
highest reality. Okay back to those pictures. I truly do not
know what to do with them. I've placed them carefully in my backpack with my
computer, in a place where they cannot be harmed. I'm going to carry them back
to San Antonio. And then, I'm going to figure out what to do with them.
Something about these pictures is bothering me. I can't figure out a decent
response to their obvious value and meaning. Maybe you'll have some suggestions.
Think about it, will you? Oh, and I finally figured out what this day of
play with these children means. It means everything. rlp
Note: Rolling blackouts caused an
internet outage yesterday. As I said in the beginning, if you don't see a fresh
post from me every night, there was an internet problem. Here is Thursday's
posting:

The street outside the orphanage


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Water Purification Continued…
rlp on January 10th, 2008 | Filed under Personal Update
Wednesday night It's so hard for me to write
without a lot of planning. I'd like to put the events of the day into a
nice, linear package for you. But I can't. I'm tired and it's very
late. And I'm still in culture shock. Shocked by the poverty, shocked
by the crowds of people, shocked by the lack of privacy, shocked by the
loss of control. Other people feed us. I
don't even have any Dominican money on me. I just eat what our hosts
provide. It's sort of nice to let go of the job of getting food, but I
don't think I realized how much the simple freedom to eat whenever you
want is something I take for granted. Tonight I put together a
rather extensive Flickr collection of photos, all with descriptions.
You can follow along the day by viewing them. The collection is here. Or you can view it as a slideshow here. Today we learned about what
Edge calls, "fluidity." You have to stay fluid when you are overseas.
It would be easy to let today become frustrating, but it didn't. We had
hoped to get started with the two installations, but we had troubles
getting materials in both places. The details are unimportant - it just
turned out to take the entire day to gather the tanks and make some
rather complex plans for the hospital. The hospital was supposed to
have gotten supplies ahead of time but didn't because an engineer
wanted to talk about it first. Apparently it didn't occur to him that
we were going to be on a tight schedule. We ended up buying exactly the
things we asked them to pick up for us. We lost a day. No big deal.
Kurtis is sure we'll make it up. We did get to see the
hospital, and I was once again touched and surprised. Touched by the
good that they do and surprised by the primitive nature of the
facility. It is a Care
Hospital; there are a number of
them around the world. Their water system is horrible, but
it's not their fault. The entire city of Santo Domingo has a water
problem. You can't get clean water from the tap. You just can't.
Everyone uses bottled water. This is extremely expensive for the
hospital. They use a fair amount of water, as you can imagine. Their specialty is pediatric
surgery for children with birth defects. Half our team worked with
Kurtis and an engineer from the hospital to plan our rather complex
system. Our three tanks of purified water will tie right into the
plumbing of the hospital. Usually our water systems are suited to
people coming up to the tanks and drawing water off of them. While some
of us went out into town to buy supplies, the other half of our team
folded bandages. That's right. They don't buy
pre-packaged bandages here. They buy bulk bandage material and fold
them by hand. We
were also able to get the supplies we will need for the YWAM
headquarters install, the one you guys payed for. Let me
mention YWAM. I didn't know anything about Youth With A Mission, and I
still don't know much. It seems to be a movement started by American
Christians that spread this way and has become an indigenous expression
of faith. This facility is run by Domincans for Dominicans. I
can tell that they are a very conservative group of Christians. Much
more conservative than I, certainly. And yet, here they are working
amongst the poorest people. And we are in their country. I'm called to
be as respectful as if I was dealing with Muslims in Iran or Buddhists
in China. Their Christianity is now an indigenous movement among these
people. They tend toward charismatic expression and are absolutely
passionate about their faith. Tomorrow
night we might go to a worship service. I hear we might have two hours
of singing BEFORE the sermon. I'll let you know how that goes. And
there is this. These guys take trips to Africa to help people
less fortunate than themselves. They who don't even have clean water in
their own facility. That seals the deal for me. So you guys are going
to make it possible for them to drink their tap water instead of buying
water, which they do for the hundreds of volunteer teams of all
denominations who stay here from time to time. Not too many Americans,
I wouldn't think. We're too spoiled and the accomodations are too
rough. But I'm glad I'm here. I'm glad I've experienced it. Whether
you are a Christian or not, I can testify that you who donated money
would be happy to be giving clean water to these people. Absolutely. On a
personal note: The food was very good today. There was something for
breakfast that I never did identify. Some kind of pasty, grits-ish,
puddingesque thing. Sort of sweet and sort of like Oatmeal. Whatever, I
ate every bite. Lunch at the hospital was fun and delicious.
Traditional Dominican food. (Pictures of both meals at the Flickr
site) We put in a full day, and I'm ready for bed. Check out
the flickr photos I mentioned. They tell the story. Tomorrow
we begin the installation work in both places. One of our teams is also
going to spend some time taking care of children in a local orphanage.
We feel the YWAM install will be so easy that we can spare the time.
And the hospital has a solar water heating system that was installed
incorrectly. Kurtis the magic man feels we might be able to fix that
for them while we're there. These Edge folks
are INTENSE. I kid you not. Do not try to stop them or get in their
way. They will find a way to get things done. And if something prevents
them from doing one thing, they'll find some other acts of goodness to
fill the day. Tomorrow
I'll show you the work we do and introduce you to the team in more
detail. I can't wait to show you a picture of Kurtis. peace, rlp
January 9, 2007
Care Hospital Santo Domingo is a 6-story building

The Cistern at Care Hospital. The water is clear, but not
safe. Full of bacteria.
Typical traffic in Santo Domingo. One of the reasons it
took all day to gather supplies.
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Water Purification in the Dominican Republic
rlp on January 9th, 2008 | Filed under Personal Update
I’m in the Dominican Republic for a week with Edge Outreach. This is the first of my daily chronicles.
January 8th, 2007 - Tuesday Note:
I'm likely not going to have a lot of time for editing on this trip, so
you're going to get this stuff pretty much right out of my head. I'll
have to grab whatever time I can to write. They say it is always
disorienting when you enter a new culture. I know this in my head but
have had few occasions to experience it at the level I did today. Santo
Domingo left me speechless. Our team flew into the
airport during the afternoon at different times. There are 5 young
women from Murray State. One of them - Courtney - is a highly trained
Edge intern. She's 19 and fully capable of installing complex water
systems in primitive settings and doing water education. The other four
are friends of hers who have recently undergone the same training that
I did back in October. Curtis is our team leader.
He and Stuart are experienced Edge trainers. Which is good because we'd
be lost without them. Then there is Marcia and Rick and I. Most of us had arrived by
about 5:30. We loaded the equipment in a small bus and left for the
YWAM (Youth with a Mission) headquarters here in Santo Domingo. More on
YWAM tomorrow. This is a Christian organization that has no connection
with Edge Outreach but is allowing us to stay in their headquarters. There is no way I can
describe the hour and a half journey through the heart of Santo
Domingo. This is the stuff you don't see in the tourist areas. The
streets were packed with vehicles and bicycles of every kind. The
entire center of the city looks poverty stricken, from my
point of view. But my point of view is meaningless here.
There were so many people. There seem to be almost no traffic laws;
cars and buses and bikes and pedestrians weave in and out following
some set of rules that they understand but I do not. I wish I could
have taken pictures, but it was already dark. The YWAM headquarters is an
abandoned hotel in a very poor neighborhood. I wondered why an
official organization with a name and everything would need
fresh water, but that just shows how little I understand this world. We
are staying in the nicest accomodations available here. There's no hot
water and no one can drink from the tap. Everyone drinks bottled water
purchased nearby. We are staying with some
amazing people. Alberto just got back from the Sahara where he worked
with "the poor and underpriviledged." I tried to imagine what kind of
people Alberto would consider poor. Again I am having to come to grips
with how out of touch with reality my views of comfort and poverty are. The money you gave is going
to install a purification system here at YWAM. Curtis and Courtney
scouted the facility looking for the best place to install one. These
pictures will give you some idea of the kind of place we are staying
at. It's probably the best place in the neighborhood. Tomorrow we have to go to a
local hardware store and buy materials for the YWAM install and the
larger system we will install at a local hospital. Curtis told me that
the hospital's water situation is more primitive than they have here. (Note:
The Edge purifiers come with us, but the tanks and pipes and everything
else is bought "in country.") Confession time: Okay, I'm not proud of what
follows, but it is the truth. It's important for me to admit it
because, well, it's the truth. I don't really know how I'm going to
sleep here tonight. I have a top bunk with one sheet and no covers. I
won't get to shower until tomorrow, maybe. Tonight I'll brush my teeth
with a cup of bottled water. Windows are open to the outside, so I
don't know what kind of bugs I'll encounter during the night. And to be
honest, I had a hard time eating that hot dog. I could only finish
about half of it. I have no idea where it was purchased and how long it
was on that table. So I'm hungry, and I really don't know when I'll eat
next. I hear they are serving us breakfast in the morning, and I'm
afraid to see what it will be. And I'm ashamed of myself
because this is as good as it gets here. Our hosts welcomed us and were
so delighted that we have come. They've given us their best. And to think when I arrived
at the airport I took this picture because I thought it was going to be
a struggle dealing with the fact that you can't get real Diet Coke
here. You get Coke Light, which tastes like straight Coke. At the
airport, that actually seemed like an issue to me. What a difference a couple
of hours can make. I'll write more tomorrow.
Tomorrow we actually get started. rlp
Dinner - unidentifiable
hot dogs and huge buns.
Hey, you eat what they give you here.
Alberto shows us a lower
room, one possible location.
We settled on a corner
of the kitchen, always a nice place for fresh water.
1 Comment »
Merry Christmas from Marcus & Gordon
rlp on December 22nd, 2007 | Filed under Personal Update
And so we come to the end of another year. Christmas is in a few days and a 2008 is just around the corner. Marcus and I appreciate all of you who have participated in the High Calling Blog network, both those who write and those who have been reading. We pray that you will find ways to slow down amidst the frantic activity of the holidays. We hope that you are able see what is important about Christmas. Christ came to this earth 2000 years ago and comes again in the lives of his disciples.
We have served God this year with our lives. What good we have done is credited only to the Spirit of the Lord. Where we have fallen short, His grace is sufficient.
Click here to read Christmas memories from a number of our bloggers.
Merry Christmas,

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Door Deadlock
rlp on December 4th, 2007 | Filed under Personal Update
When we built our church facility back in 1999, our general contractor installed industrial-quality, Corbin Russwin automatic door closers on every door in the place. These things are fascinating. When you push on a door to open it, there is resistance because that action is forcing a plunger into a cylinder, compressing the air inside it. Energy from your body is being transferred in some mysterious way to the cylinder, which then holds that energy in a potential form. When you let go of the door, the plunger is forced out of the cylinder, which then closes the door by means of a system of connected rods.
Here’s another way to think about it: because the cylinder makes the door harder to open, you are forced to use additional energy to open it, but that energy is then stored and used to close the door automatically when your let go of it.
The whole thing is quite clever.
These heavy-duty, door closing units are pretty sophisticated and cost about $100 each. We have 20 doors in our building, so we have about $2000 invested in automatic door closing, which is a pity since as it turns out, only the external doors and the restroom doors have any need for this luxury. In fact, a door that always closes automatically can be a pain-in-the-ass. I got tired of trying to hold doors open with my rear end when my hands were full of boxes or books or whatever.
So a few months after we moved into our building, I arrived one morning with 20 door-holding-open machines, commonly known as stoppers. These particular stoppers are metal pegs with rubber feet. You attach them to the bottom of the door. Then you can flip the peg down with your foot when you want to prop the door open. They were $11 a piece.
As I understand it, the stoppers increase the inertia of the door to a point where the air pressure in the cylinder is not sufficient to close it. But that’s just fancy talk. They keep the doors open; that’s the important thing.
And so it was that we came to this ridiculous place: on the top of each door is a $100 machine that converts human energy into potential energy that is constantly pushing against the door, wanting to close it. At the bottom of each door is a simpler, but no less effective, $11 machine that makes the door so hard to close that the top machine is unable to do the job it was designed for and for which we paid good money for it to do.
It was four years before I saw this absurdity for what it was. It hit me like a flash of enlightenment one summer day while I was looking at one of the doors. Suddenly the scales fell from my eyes and I saw things as they were. I laughed out loud at the sight of a $100 door closer straining as hard as it could to close a door held open by an $11 stopper.
“This is insane,” I said to myself. “All of this work, worry, and energy serves to create a state of affairs that we could have had if we had never installed closers or stoppers at all. We have set energy against inertia, all to maintain a kind of doorway deadlock. We could have had immobility if we had done nothing at all.”
I got up from my chair and wandered around the church, looking at all the door closers and their corresponding stoppers. One of these doors, the door to the kitchen, had been held open since the previous summer. I think I was the last one to open it, which means that energy from the breakfast taco I had that morning ended up being stored inside this cylinder for more than a year.
I reached up and touched the cylinder. For some reason I expected it to be warm. Warm from the exertion of pushing against a door for a solid year. But of course the energy inside is potential. It’s somehow real but not real until the door is released. Don’t you think that when the air whooshed out of the cylinder, it should have smelled like tacos?
It didn’t, but that would have been cool, right?
I decided to do something about this situation. I brought my drill to church along with a set of screwdriver bits. I removed 6 or 7 screws and took down the Corbin Russwin door closing machine. Then I knelt and removed the four screws holding the door stopper in place. Once liberated from these opposing forces, the kitchen door swung easily on its hinges. I can now open the door with one finger. I can move it to any position between open and closed and there it sits happily until someone moves it. I’m working with inertia now, instead of fighting against it. It’s an amazingly efficient way to do things.
The only thing more absurd than the whole situation was how excited I was about the newly liberated door. I had to tell the very next person who came down the hall.
“Hey, check this out.”
I swung the door open and shut.
“Open, shut, or anywhere in between. The door does whatever I want. Isn’t that cool?”
I don’t remember who it was, but she was understandably perplexed by my enthusiasm. Come to think of it, she might have been this woman who left the church around that time. She probably had the idea that the pastor should be working on sermons or visiting the sick or something like that instead of doing junior physics experiments with the door hardware. And I must admit, she’s probably right. Thank goodness I’m alone at the church most of the time so nobody knows what the hell I’m up to.
Anyway, this whole thing with doors got me thinking that deadlock is such a tiring way to stand still and do nothing. All of that straining and grunting. Losing a little ground, then gritting your teeth and pushing harder against whatever force is opposing you.
But we humans love to grapple. We like to lock arms and growl and push each other around. We like the feeling of one force moving another. We like power, and we like to use power. And if you look around the world, a lot of things that appear to be stationary are not moving because they are pushing hard against something that is immovable. You see this all the time. Especially at family reunions.
We set power against power and force against inertia. It’s what we like to do. We move things around our world and it makes us so happy. And there are times when force and power and moving things around is the right thing. There are times for that.
But there are also times when it is so much better to stop pushing against things and let them be. There are times when the doors should swing freely. Let them be open or closed. Just let them be. There are times to walk gently on our planet and see if it is possible that you pass on your way and leave not one stone overturned or one tender branch bent.
There are times.
Times to get out of the way and let people or plants grow as they will.
Times to let go of someone and allow them to live their life for better or for worse.
Times to sit quietly around the fire with mother myth and all the other earth children. Just listen to the story, child. Let it be.
Times to let the children eat when they are hungry and go to bed when they are sleepy. Perhaps not every night, but there are times.
There are these times. And if you can learn to see them and embrace them, you will begin to develop the soul of an artist and a saint.

rlp
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Jonah’s Seder
rlp on November 29th, 2007 | Filed under Personal Update
The first pastor of our church left rather suddenly in 1992, five years after the church was formed. I was 31 years old, and when the church asked if I would take his place I was happy to do so, though I did not anticipate the troubles that would come with that transition. It’s always hard when a beloved pastor leaves a church. There is the grief that comes from the loss of that relationship. And everyone knows that things will likely change with a new minister. It’s a hard time for a church, a time of uncertainty.
When our first pastor left, a number of families left with him. I think we lost about a third of our church in a matter of weeks. That was not a good sign, and I knew it. It was a sign that we had been too dependent on his personality for our identity. I tried not to take the people leaving personally, but I was young and took everything personally. I wondered if their departure might be a sign that they were uncertain about me. I was worried and for good reason. New churches are fragile things. If a new church begins a downward spiral, things can fall apart rather quickly. Some new churches don’t survive because they couldn’t weather their first major crisis. I became anxious and found myself trying hard to keep the remaining families happy so they wouldn’t leave as well.
In truth we were in a difficult spot, but giving in to that kind of anxiety is always a bad move for a minister. However, I was young and doing the best that I could at the time.
All of this happened about the same time that I met rabbi Jonah and his friend Robert in a computer store. I overheard Jonah talking about some kind of Hebrew program. I was interested and asked some questions about it myself. Before I knew it the three of us were having coffee together.
Jonah and Robert were both bound to wheelchairs, Jonah because of polio and Robert because of muscular dystrophy. For the next year or so, I would go to visit them, load them into their van – which was equipped with a wheelchair lift – and drive them around town. We talked about theology, the scriptures, and the relationship between our respective faith traditions. I liked them. Jonah could be a bit overbearing at times, and he was certainly manipulative. I was aware of how he always managed to talk me into doing things for them even as I was letting him get away with it. I had never had friends in wheelchairs before, and I was rather over-anxious to please them and be nice. And, as I said before, I was young and fairly naïve about a number of things.
That Spring I thought it would be nice for our church to have a Passover Seder together. The Passover meal is strictly a Jewish observance, but many Christian churches - recognizing our obvious historical and theological dependency on Judaism - will sometimes have a Seder meal as a kind of religious education exercise.
And, I thought, who better to lead us in this sacred meal than my own rabbi friend, Jonah? When I asked him, Jonah was obviously pleased and readily agreed. At the time Jonah was not serving a congregation, so I thought this would be nice for him. And I thought our church would benefit from the cultural and spiritual exchange. I admit that I was also hoping something like this would help solidify our sense of community as we continued to adjust to the loss of our pastor and the families who left with him. It was all good in my mind. There were no downsides that I could see.
As the time for the Seder grew close, Jonah provided us with a list of supplies and detailed recipes for the various dishes involved in the ceremony. A number of women in our church took the recipes and prepared the food according to his instructions. We had about 30 people planning to attend, which was roughly half of our church at the time. The afternoon before the meal, we setup tables in a church member’s home and made ready for Jonah and Robert’s arrival.
When I got to their house, Jonah and Robert were dressed in their finest clothes and were both wearing ceremonial yarmulkes. We chatted excitedly on the way, and when we arrived everyone crowded around them both, making them feel welcome. The people of our church sort of felt like they knew Jonah because I had mentioned him and the things he had taught me about Judaism in several sermons.
The meal began and Jonah carefully explained the meaning behind all of the symbols and dishes. The Passover Seder is an allegorical meal that commemorates God leading the children of Israel out of slavery in Egypt. Each dish has a specific meaning. The whole thing was fascinating for about 45 minutes. Then the food was gone and Jonah began speaking on a variety of topics, apparently whatever was coming to his mind. Things began to drag a bit. Jonah kept talking. He got lost in what he was saying and wasn’t paying attention to what was happening around him. I noticed people reaching the limits of their attention spans and disconnecting. Children were getting fussy and fidgety. People began to rest their heads in their hands and look around the room. Being ultimately responsible for what happens at church events like this, I began to be very uncomfortable about the deterioration of interest in the room.
Jonah, on the other hand, seemed to have no awareness whatsoever of the feedback their body language was giving him. He was lost in the beauty of his tradition and spoke on and on, his eyes partially closed and his voice a grinding monotone. Twenty minutes turned into thirty minutes and then to forty-five. I kept looking for an opening so that I could break in and draw this thing to a close, but there were no pauses and I couldn’t catch Jonah’s eye.
Finally, just when I thought the people in the room couldn’t stand it any longer, Jonah paused and took a deep breath. Apparently he had reached the end of his long discourse. When everyone sensed he was coming to a close, they reconnected with him. There was no ill will in the group. After all, he was rather elderly and our guest. But still, I could tell that everyone was happy this was finally coming to an end. And so was I.
Jonah looked around the room very deliberately, as if taking measure of the people. Then - and I will never forget this moment if I live to be a hundred - he carefully pressed the fingertips of his two hands together in front of him, and said, “Now, let me explain to you why it is simply not possible that Jesus could be the messiah.”
Having relaxed a bit as he seemed to be coming to a close, these words hit me like a sledgehammer. I felt a rush of panic. I looked around the room to see mouths dropping open. Children were looking curiously at their parents. “Mommy, what’s that man saying about Jesus?” One or two people looked a little angry. A man named Steve, one of our few new members, crossed his arms and looked like someone had suggested to him that our church take up communism and maybe devil worship while we were at it.
If this happened now, I would have stopped him. I would have simply stood up and said, “Jonah, thank you for coming. Time is late and we’d better bring this to a close. Blah blah blah.” No problem. But I was young and nice and anxious, and I had not imagined myself in this position. So Jonah spoke for five or six minutes and explained to us all the reasons why a central truth of Christianity simply could not be true.
I really don’t remember anything that he said. I was too busy looking at the faces of the people and wondering how many of them might not come back. It was one of the most awkward and uncomfortable things I’ve ever sat through. When Jonah finished his diatribe, the evening was over. I felt absolutely miserable. I was the new pastor of this small, still-grieving church, supposedly a gatekeeper of the content of our worship, and I had set this whole thing up. I wondered if there might be an emergency business meeting later that night which would result in me being asked to leave.
I loaded the two of them into their van in the darkness. I didn’t know what to say. I was hurt and angry that he would put me in such an awkward position. I stared straight ahead as I pulled the lever that lifted their chairs up into the van. As I pulled out of the driveway, Jonah said, “Well, I think that went pretty well, don’t you?” I said nothing. I just drove them home.
Apparently it never occurred to Jonah that it might be somewhat offensive to show up as a guest at a Christian church, be given a platform, then say such difficult and frightening things in a group of families with children. I really don’t think he had any idea that what he had said was painful for the group. He was lost in the beauty of his tradition and blundered clumsily through ours without thinking much about it.
As it turned out, almost everyone thought it was rather funny. Some saw how bad I felt about the whole thing and felt badly for me. Nothing came of it. Well, Steve and his family left the church, but they were probably going to leave anyway. And honestly, I really didn’t mind seeing them go. Steve was a pretty angry guy. Something or other would have eventually pissed him off anyway.
Nothing like that ever happened again with Jonah. He and Robert and I remained friends. I never said anything to him about the event. Maybe I should have, but I don’t know what that conversation would have done for anyone.
And maybe it was a good thing for us to have experienced after all. Because Christianity is the dominant religious expression in our culture, Christians are usually on the other side of these situations. We are often the ones who pray at gatherings of Christians, Jews, and others and use the name of Jesus in ways that must make our friends uncomfortable. At every turn, the words and symbols of Christianity blare out of radios and shout from the street corners. Secular people and those of other faiths are often left to stand in silence while our words of faith swirl uncomfortably around them.
Having once been on the painful side of a collision between religious traditions, my suggestion is for all of us is to cultivate a healthy sense of humor and a deliberate tolerance in mixed companies. Our philosophies, theologies, and religious practices are bound to collide sometimes. It’s going to happen. And sometimes when it happens, no one meant any harm. Most of us are guilty of mental lapses now and then. Our continued good will and the cultivating of cooperation between religions is far more important than any theological point you might want to make.
And if perchance someone from another tradition says something that rubs you the wrong way, remember that they have no power over you and your faith. Let the event be something that we learn from and not something that tears us apart.

rlp
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Thoughts of a Gyrovague
rlp on October 3rd, 2007 | Filed under Personal Update
Thoughts of a Gyrovague: A place for the musings of the mind about life, Christ, and the pursuit of He who gives all good things
Gyrovague is concerned about the transitions taking place in modern and post-modern Christianity. He’s got some good thoughts and some good warnings.
The current state of the Christian Church is one of major confusion and a tearing away from our heritage as Christians in the name of “multiculturalism” “acceptance” or any host of other words you can come up with. With this progress that has been made in technology which has allowed the Internet, 200 cable channels and 30 different radio stations into the average household, all with different agendas to promote. Do not get me wrong, technology is a wonderful thing, but by farming out our minds to technology we are becoming increasingly disconnected from the moorings that our parents and their parents before them laid for the growth of the family…Click here to read the rest.







