Sarah Schendel sat beside a man and woman who perked up when she mentioned the Episcopal Church. The man asked about our trip and when Sarah mentioned that we were restarting a relationship with Tanga in Tanzania that Diocese of Oh and Bishop Burt initiated 37 years ago, the man replied that he is a member in All Saints Pasedena where John Burt served before becoming Bp of OH.  Dr. Don Thomas is his name and he has been working in Malawi for nine years to make sustainable improvements in healthcare. He was working with a Dr. of Anthropology Andrea Freidus who teaches at Michigan State. We had great conversation about the difficulty of sustainable work and the challenge of helping us realize in the states how we have been connected for a long time, but unaware of many of the ways. Dr Thomas offered to come to Toledo to meet and possibly do a workshop. Dr. Thomas recommended the "Myths and Magic Bullets" chapter from Sachs End of Poverty. They recommended Bottom Billion, Dead Aid and Twinning. Thank you God for the chance to meet them.

On the plane from Ethiopa I also had fascinating conversation with an American who had grown up for 10 years in Ethiopia. He claimed that Ethiopia was one of only five civilaztions to come up with a musical notation system (the rest of what he said was over my musical head). He talked about visiting a series of churches hewn out of rock, and said the church there reminds him of Jewish worship as much as Christian. He spoke for an inspired hour about the rift valley, a set of three lakes near eachother that were

I lost a post. So sorry Carolyn. I answered all the questions and then was capsized by technical difficulties. Since it is 2 a.m. I better post what I wrote earlier and go to bed. We begin flight tomorrow early afternoon OH time.  I am delighted to hear that I will get to meet a couple of the Belizian visitors. We are curious how their trip has been. Any word?

Final meeting this afternoon at 3:30 and we were blessed with Monkeys! We have been told all week that there were monkeys who lived on the hill above the diocesan center, but only Mary Bower had seen one. About the middle of our meeting however three monkeys graced us and hung (literally) around the rest of the meeting. when we ended we scared one off the roof and into a tree. I am not positive what we committed to for the future of our relationship but those were beautiful monkeys.

The other distraction - tangerines. To call them by a common name belittles them. The peel had more juice than most we call good in the U.S. The flavor was tart and sparkling. They were an experience.

And at the risk of sounding a complete aesthete, we had bamia (okra) tonight! It was great. Bamia, monkeys, tangeAwesomeRines. (I am quite sure that the general secretary, Canon Peter Kihiyo, called his wife when we were on our way to church to tell her to locate bamia for our dinner)

Can you imagine a sung liturgy in a mud church with 40 people? Can you imagine the choir of such church, say St. Mathew's Kubuku, practicing twice every week, singing two (what I would call) anthems? Can you imagine hauling water on your head for several miles to make mud to make bricks for your new church? Can you imagine building your church for four years and just have the walls over four feet tall? Can you imagine a mud road leading to your church packed with vendors on a Sunday morning because half of the population is Muslim and needs to work on Sundays? How much would it cost to miss a day of work and go to church?

Canon Kihiyo invited me to preach, which felt like an honor early in the week. By Saturday night the honor had worn off. I was moved by Joseph’s tears in Genesis 45. (See 8.2 post, Bishop Jumaa used the Joseph/Jacob story is ’73 visit). The passage says that Joseph could hold his identity from his brothers no more, dismissed all assistants, and wept so loudly that “all Pharaohs’ house heard.” That is a lot of pain being released. And didn’t Joseph, in power and privilege amidst one of the wealthiest nations on earth, feel some of the same things we feel in connection to people in the developing world? Joseph had food and stuff but no family. Joseph had power but not community. The only word that has planted itself in my memory this week is “umoja” (umodga). I suddenly realized that I was hearing it all the time. I asked and it means “together.” If you only learn one Swahili word, umoja would be a good one. This word sums up much of the experience of the last six days. People are just together.

The three (Sarah, Patty, Ann) who came back from Hendeni deanery last night were aglow with their experiences. There visits were imagined by John Mtambo, a layman who Brendan praises, and the three adored. He apparently suggested to the churches that they have visitors plant trees so that there would be actual fruit from the relationship (there will be nameplates for the Patty avocado tree, Sarah Mango, and Avocado Ann. They were also accompanied by the only living priest who visited d OH in 1973, Matia (Belinga sp?). He is in his late 70s and because he promised to see them off tonight in Korogwe, caught us right before we left the diocesan center, said goobyes, made the three cry, and caught his bus for the two hour trip in the dark back to his home. They were also accompanied by Joyce, who is head of the Women’s union and their praise of her was equally marvelous. Look for the report from the Hendeni three.

The bike shop gave me two spoke wrenches which I didn’t want to give them away with out showing how they were used. So I commandeered a fella’s bicycle trued his wheel while he watched and gave him the wrench. New twist at least on the pushy American tourist theme. I also got to true the Kihiyo’s sons wheels tonight.

What a privilege to be on this trip. I wish my soul and mind were big enough for it. I will help how I can to see that we build this relationship over many years. We need it and Tanga Diocese needs it and the world needs us.

Thank You Diocese of Ohio for this trip.

Daniel

Photos courtesy Joe Bridges

Meetings at the Diocesan Center

I slept really well,             .  .  . for two hours. Now I have been up the rest of the night and I suppose I will find out what time it is when the sun comes up and I can find a computer to transfer my handwriting.

From one of the documents the Diocese of Ohio produced in the early 70’s, recovered by Brendan, I learned that the ArchBp of Canterbury was a great instigator of what helped bring Tanga and OH Diocese together in the first place. He said in 1964, “That the church that lives to itself will dye by itself.” How true, How true. We are crippled by self absorbtion. How can we at St. Paul’s, for example be raising money for a roof project and repairs that could conceivably be patched when the Tanga Diocesan Center has had leaks that look as historic as the pictures of Bp. Burt and Bp Juma who hang beside them. There are cracks in the walls that would scare a blind realitor and the center has no water right now. Furthermore, the cathedral has entire patches of roof missing. (Before I convince anyone not to give to SP roof project, not that forestalling might cost more than replacing now.)

The Rev. Peter Kihiyo, Joe Bridges, the Rev. Herbert, Brendan and myself met all day Wednesday sharing personal stories, history of the conection between Tanga and OH, and thoughts on companionship. Both Peter and Herbert have remarkable stories of their calling to priesthood. They both waited with great patience for their calls to mature (Peter was a teacher and Herbert was an accountant).

Several times we came back to the story of Jacob visiting Joseph in Egypt. Bp. Juma made reference to this story in a short address to the Diocese of OH in 1973 which Peter read for us. Jacob had reawakend hope, as Herbert pointed out, for the relationship that would be rekindled with his son “who once was lost but now was found.” Joseph could not contain his excitement and eagerly reconciled with his brothers fulfilling their need for drought relief as they fulfilled his need for family and community. So loud was Joseph’s weeping for joy that Pharoah’s household could hear him. Gen 45:2 Plagued with lonliness in a wealthy and disconnected culture do we in OH share in this story with Joseph?

It was difficult for all four of us to sit all day, but the high point for me came at the end when Brendan was trying to have mercy on us and wrap it up. Herbert talked about how when Christians are committed there is little God can not do with us. His cathedral congregation of St. Michael’s and all angels was recently able to renew their commitment by planting a couple acres of corn in a church plot and then harvesting the corn together. Peter added the importance of priests being committed. Then in words from the Holy Spirit he echoed words Brad Purdom, Canon for Congregational development in OH, and I had exchanged in heartfelt conversation this spring. Peter said that priests are trained in theology, but they also need to be entrepreneurs. Priests need to draw out resources from their areas instead of draining resources.

I should preface his last sentence by saying that most everyone in this part of Tanzania has a garden in not livestock (In fact, a local veterinarian employed by Heifer Int. has an office in the diocesan center.) Peter’s last statement, “some priests don’t even keep a chicken.” “Amen”, I cheered, a chicken in every church.

The practice of “keeping” (a chicken, a flock – Moses, David, Amos… the Hebrew word Shmar) is critical for the church’s entrepenuership of the future. While some in the U.S. are engaged in a “greening “ of Levitical laws for an age of environmental crises, the church can pour water on the parched needs of our land and communities by keeping soil, plants, animals, widows, orphans… This is only a rephrasing of Jesus’ words to love our neighbor. Joseph saved Egypt and Caanan by seven years of keeping (harvests) for seven years of famine. The crises reconciled his family and holds hope for us.

Speaking of keeping chickens the cocks are finally crowing (I hope I haven’t denied Jesus, but quite the opposite). The other children of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob and Joseph havejust begun their micro phoned prayer for this fourth? Day of Ramadan, and I am wide awake.

Daniel

People had been waiting for some time at St. Barnabas Lay education center. We have seen this building on the cover of Church Life. Bp Burt helped consecrate it in 1974 after OH raised 32,000 of its 50,000 cost. Then it poured rain and the consecraters tracked the red mud onto the newly consecrated floor. No rain this time, but a warm welcome and how surreal to be in a place I had seen in pictures and heard about for four years seven time zones away from OH. We had a great meal and conversations with hospital, parish and priest groupings. Brendan said later, that was one of his finest moments to see those conversations finally happening after two years of his work.

After dinner we walked down the hill slightly to St. Michael’s and All Angels where we found the choir practicing. Joe Bridges, fortunately for you, recorded them singing and dancing. To see a three year old boy in front with two other girls, yet beautifully in step, not with the girls he could see but with three teen boys two rows behind him brought tears to my eyes. I was awed. (He did turn his head occasionally to see them.)

Story from the ride Aug. 2

Sarah Schendel (Of St. Michael’s, Toledo, the therapist) shared a dream, which requires a little background. She grew up Baptist and was serving in an American Baptist Conference Center in Green lakes, WI waiting tables as a summer job between semesters of college. There was a chaplain for all of the college students working at the center, and it happened to be that summer Art Lemon, an Episcopalian African American priest who was chaplain at Case Western Reserve and special liaison to churches for Cleveland’s Mayor Stokes. Unaware of much of his background in the beginning of the summer, Art appeared “as dry as toast” to Sarah . . . until, she says, “I realized all he was making happen, including inside of me. Meeting with him and other students at a coffee shop was like communion.” Sarah says that she recalled these meetings with Art when she joined St. Michael’s and could see the circle of faces during communion.

Sarah’s dream was simple and odd. Her priest Peg Sammons appeared in white, but not in her alb or as an angel, but as a night pharmacist.  “That was a weird little snippet of a dream,” Sarah thought. “Then the next Sunday,” she continues,” when I was holding out my hands for communion and peg put the wafer in my hand I remembered the dream.” Peg was giving medicine, medicine indeed!