Monday, May 24, 2004
Culturally irRelevant Ministry
Then he got into the boat and his disciples followed him. Without warning, a furious storm came up on the lake, so that the waves swept over the boat. But Jesus was sleeping. The disciples went and woke him, saying, "Lord, save us! We're going to drown!"
He replied, "You of little faith, why are you so afraid?" Then he got up and rebuked the winds and the waves, and it was completely calm.
The men were amazed and asked, "What kind of man is this? Even the winds and the waves obey him!" Matthew 8:23-27
We stood on the rocky beach looking out toward the small boats bobbing on the choppy water of the Bering Sea. It was about 40 degrees outside, but with winds from the East at 20mph, it felt closer to 30. White clouds hung low over the water, hiding the cliffs as occasional rain drops splattered the 20 of us gathered on the beach after mass. Children bicycled around us in circles as people arrived by walk and by four-wheeler. Little old women in quspeqs and rubber boots huddled together and helped each other down to the beach. Father Anderson stood in his green and gold-trimmed white kuspeq holding his red Bible and trying to keep the pages from fluttering as he held one hand up over the water. A child reached up and held the page for him. He read the passage from Matthew before blessing the water and the fishing season, praying for safety and success.
For these people who have experienced the awesome power of storms in amazing ways, a God who can command the wind and waves is truly worthy of worship. Many of the tiny houses in the village have sustained damage this year from winds gusting 45-50 mph this winter. And all of the older fishermen in the village could share tales of terrifying experiences on the big water. This year, there are other storms. Commercial fishing is one of the only sources of income for many families in the village. Unfortunately, the rate for one ton of fish this season is only $100. I know one father of six who spent all day out Thursday to pull in 3 tons. With groceries, fuel, and supplies costing so much out here, that cash won't go very far to supporting his family for the year. For this community, blessing the water was important, and the old woman who plays the keyboard and calls out the hymn numbers in church, passed out hand-written song sheets with a specially selected ocean-themed hymn for us to sing by the water.
As touching as this moment was, I could not help but let my mind wander back to the 45 minutes of passionless liturgy we had just gone through in mass. Of the 350 people living in the village perhaps 25 were gathered in the church (mostly elders). The priest read his script in a clear, monotone voice as the people responded in mumbles of English and Yupik. How many people thought about the beauty of what they were saying, thought about the meaning behind the ritual? How many of them were in excited, joyful awe of the fact that they were gathered to worship the God of the universe who sacrificed his only son to have an intimate, passionate, personal relationship with us? I know I shouldn't make assumptions about what was happening in people's hearts, but what I saw and heard made me sad. We are created for so much more than this. And so many teenagers and young adults chose not to come and were perhaps busy pursuing all sorts of other things that would lead, not to fulfillment, but to self-destruction and death. Even with the beauty of this place and the richness of the culture, there is so much brokeness in this village that I don't know how to begin to describe it.
And how many villages like this one exist all over this world? How do we pray? For new people to be called to minister to these people? For spiritual renewal and awakening within the church that is already here? As frustrated as I am with the dryness of the Catholic Church, at least they are making the effort to maintain a church presence out here. Praise God that the Gospel is being read almost every week here, but at the same time, some how the Church is not connecting with many of the people in this community…
As the rain and the snow
come down from heaven,
and do not return to it
without watering the earth
and making it bud and flourish,
so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater,
so is my word that goes out from my mouth:
It will not return to me empty,
but will accomplish what I desire
and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.
Isaiah 55:10-11
Then he got into the boat and his disciples followed him. Without warning, a furious storm came up on the lake, so that the waves swept over the boat. But Jesus was sleeping. The disciples went and woke him, saying, "Lord, save us! We're going to drown!"
He replied, "You of little faith, why are you so afraid?" Then he got up and rebuked the winds and the waves, and it was completely calm.
The men were amazed and asked, "What kind of man is this? Even the winds and the waves obey him!" Matthew 8:23-27
We stood on the rocky beach looking out toward the small boats bobbing on the choppy water of the Bering Sea. It was about 40 degrees outside, but with winds from the East at 20mph, it felt closer to 30. White clouds hung low over the water, hiding the cliffs as occasional rain drops splattered the 20 of us gathered on the beach after mass. Children bicycled around us in circles as people arrived by walk and by four-wheeler. Little old women in quspeqs and rubber boots huddled together and helped each other down to the beach. Father Anderson stood in his green and gold-trimmed white kuspeq holding his red Bible and trying to keep the pages from fluttering as he held one hand up over the water. A child reached up and held the page for him. He read the passage from Matthew before blessing the water and the fishing season, praying for safety and success.
For these people who have experienced the awesome power of storms in amazing ways, a God who can command the wind and waves is truly worthy of worship. Many of the tiny houses in the village have sustained damage this year from winds gusting 45-50 mph this winter. And all of the older fishermen in the village could share tales of terrifying experiences on the big water. This year, there are other storms. Commercial fishing is one of the only sources of income for many families in the village. Unfortunately, the rate for one ton of fish this season is only $100. I know one father of six who spent all day out Thursday to pull in 3 tons. With groceries, fuel, and supplies costing so much out here, that cash won't go very far to supporting his family for the year. For this community, blessing the water was important, and the old woman who plays the keyboard and calls out the hymn numbers in church, passed out hand-written song sheets with a specially selected ocean-themed hymn for us to sing by the water.
As touching as this moment was, I could not help but let my mind wander back to the 45 minutes of passionless liturgy we had just gone through in mass. Of the 350 people living in the village perhaps 25 were gathered in the church (mostly elders). The priest read his script in a clear, monotone voice as the people responded in mumbles of English and Yupik. How many people thought about the beauty of what they were saying, thought about the meaning behind the ritual? How many of them were in excited, joyful awe of the fact that they were gathered to worship the God of the universe who sacrificed his only son to have an intimate, passionate, personal relationship with us? I know I shouldn't make assumptions about what was happening in people's hearts, but what I saw and heard made me sad. We are created for so much more than this. And so many teenagers and young adults chose not to come and were perhaps busy pursuing all sorts of other things that would lead, not to fulfillment, but to self-destruction and death. Even with the beauty of this place and the richness of the culture, there is so much brokeness in this village that I don't know how to begin to describe it.
And how many villages like this one exist all over this world? How do we pray? For new people to be called to minister to these people? For spiritual renewal and awakening within the church that is already here? As frustrated as I am with the dryness of the Catholic Church, at least they are making the effort to maintain a church presence out here. Praise God that the Gospel is being read almost every week here, but at the same time, some how the Church is not connecting with many of the people in this community…
As the rain and the snow
come down from heaven,
and do not return to it
without watering the earth
and making it bud and flourish,
so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater,
so is my word that goes out from my mouth:
It will not return to me empty,
but will accomplish what I desire
and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.
Isaiah 55:10-11
