Demons Dancing in the Streets

The last week in September marked the annual festival of San Jeronimo. San Jeronimo is the local patron saint of the area of Cusco where I live (also called, amazingly enough, San Jeronimo). In English, you may know him as Saint Jerome, who translated the Latin version of the Bible known as the Vulgate. San Jeronimo here is a large statue that dwells inside the church, comes out over Holy Week in March or April, returns a week later (accompanied by much dancing, food, and drinking), and is taken out of the church and paraded around again during the last week in September. Most schools in San Jeronimo have holidays over this time. Since PROMESA is not exactly into saint worship, we don't. But as we are in classes, we are hear strains of horn and drum music (typical fare for a saintly procession) floating across the air. For months before the actual event, leaving from the school in the afternoon, we see people practicing typical dances in the roofed concrete sport court close to the school. These people have to sign themselves up for these dances and pay for the teacher to come teach them. There is one family in charge of each dance. Someone estimated that these families probably spend 3000-4000 soles each on this event. This is equal to roughly $1000-$1300 American money, which is quite a considerably larger percentage of one's resources here than in the States. Unfortunately, the use of this money on the festival of San Jeronimo usually means that the money is not used on things that it really should be, things such as improving one's house or taking care of one's children. The actual festival seems to be mostly an excuse for a lot of drunkenness. Alcoholism is a real stronghold here. The picture of the horn player with the beer bottle in his hand shows this well. Our friend Marga's husband Cesar has a barber shop right along the main street in San Jeronimo. During the week of celebration, one afternoon contains a parade which passes right by the front door of the barber shop. Marga invited my roommate Carrie and I to go with her and her family to watch the parades in front of the barber shop. For me, it was a very interesting afternoon full of questions and thoughts. I was surprised by the number of dances that involved demons (hence the title of this blog post). My thought was "If San Jeronimo is a saint (to the Catholics here) and people worship him as such, then why in the world would there be so many demon dances during a festival to honor him? What fellowship does light have with darkness?" In my way of thinking, it didn't make sense. I think it really hit me when the parade got stopped a little ways down from us. Two girls ran down the middle of the street to look at it. They came back yelling "Saqra! (Devil in Quechua)" with the chill of thrilling terror that ghost stories around a camp fire often give children. Even some of the dances contained "Saqra" in the name. My friend Lisi gave me an explanation for this phenomenon that I really liked and which really made sense to me. She said, "If San Jeronimo is a demon (from an evangelical point of view, since he is worshipped as an idol), then it makes sense that other demons would be around him and be a part of the celebration." Simple. True. Another interesting fact that Marga shared with us later, while reflecting on the dances, is that they are changing as the world changes. Skirt hems move from knees to thighs to upper thighs. More dances involve demons and ugly masks. Fewer are innocent and beautiful. There are more dances. It was interesting to note this bit of information. All in all, it was an interesting, afternoon of dances, music, food and lots of color. It made me realize again just how lost those of the world are, those who carry around their unmoving gods on their shoulders, dancing as demons for demons.

Unsung Heroes

There are many unsung heroes here in Cusco, people who often work unrecognized or under-appreciated. Yet, without them, our lives would be much different and much more unpleasant. Today, though they'll never read this, I'm sure, I'd like to dedicate this post to some of them:
To the bus, combi and taxi drivers - If you've never been here, Cusco driving is....well, let's say different....than United States driving. (If you don't believe me, ask my parents). Drivers here have to be a lot more alert and agressive. Horns are just as necessary (if not more so) than brakes. Swerving in and out of traffic is so normal that I don't even think about it. My parents were on the edge of their seats many times during their times here, while I am so used to this driving style that I read books through it while going to town (and love doing so). Not having my own car, I rely almost exclusively on public transportation. Though car accidents are not unknown, I have been safe throughout the year and 9 months I've been here. I realized the other week that I owe my road safety up to this point to God and to the good driving of all the many bus, combi and taxi drivers in whose cars I have ridden. Thank you!
Public sanitation department - Litter. It's a big problem here. Big. There is litter on the streets all the time. The custom here is eat it and toss it, no matter where you are. Though people are becoming more aware of litter and lack thereof, it's going to be a LOOONG process to change a society's ways. But in the midst of the litter problem, there is the public sanitation department. These courageous men and women walk the streets with their face masks, brooms and trash bags, cleaning up after the rest of society. Or they ride on the back of the trash truck, listening the warbling music flowing from the speakers mounted on top, grabbing people's trash bags. Or they ring a triangle in front of the trash truck so that people will remember it's time to put out their trash (it really is a nice reminder). The other week was the parade for the local saint, San Jeronimo. The main street of San Jeronimo was, well, to put it nicely, not the cleanest afterwards. The next morning I observed on the way to school that the remnants of the parade had all been swept away and the street looked presentable again. Another morning I was walking to school from the bus stop and saw piles of trash in the middle of the street. Walking further, I saw someone sweeping them up. Of course, with four schools on our one street, it didn't last long, but it looked nice while it did last.
Maids - They are generally looked down upon and not respected (I'm trying to change that, at least in our case). They go to someone else's house, cook and clean for them , run errands and generally do whatever else that person doesn't have time to do. (Some very important things are only open while we are at school....like customs at the post office and the telephone company). Then they go back to their own homes and do the same thing. Usually, they work for peanuts, even by Peruvian standards. But their work is such a blessing. In our case, since we don't have a mom or a husband to cook for us, don't eat lunch at school and Crock-Pots are an unknown invention here, having someone to cook lunch, the main meal of the day, is a necessity and a blessing. And spending a great deal of time working on school stuff in the afternoons and evenings makes not having to clean a blessing. Marga, our maid, is one of my best friends here and a true sister in Christ. I saw a sign on vacation in Arequipa that summed it up perfectly: Not even the king would eat if the worker did not work".
There are many more, but these are the ones that stuck out to me while thinking about it lately. So here's to the unsung heroes in our lives and thank you for all you do!

What Would Jesus Do....one step further

The other week I was disturbed out of my devotional time at 7:15 on a Saturday morning by the doorbell being rung insistently. Till it w as all said and done, the man next door is working on his house and was convinced that a small room beside our front door, not connected directly to the house, was going to fall down should he begin digging around its foundations. We later learned he may have had a point, but the insistency with which he was saying that the room should come down and the urgency of it happening in order for their apartment building to be raised next door did not sit well with me at that point. I must confess that I did not exactly treat them like Jesus probably would have. It made me think, though. I began to wonder what it would be like to know exactly what Jesus would have done in every situation. I began to think how nice it would have been if the Bible contained the complete record of everything Jesus said and did in every situation.
And then I began to think of the ramifications that would bring. And God began to speak to my heart of the ramifications that it would bring. Imagine with me, if you will, that the entire life of Jesus was chronicled in the Bible....everything He said and did, every situation in which He found Himself. Imagine yourself as a God follower in this situation. You have your Bible. And then you have a massive book that chronicles where to find any incident in Jesus' life. Someone stole your wallet while walking downtown? Look up stolen belongings in your reference book. Gospel of Peter 4:17. You flip open to the Gospel of Peter and look up what Jesus did in that situation. And then you "go ye and do ye likewise". It would make "What Would Jesus Do?" a whole lot simpler, wouldn't it?
And then God showed me the horrid reality that that would really bring. If all I had to do was know where to look in the Bible and then follow what it said in that passage, that cuts off relationship right there! Why do I need to know God's heart and search to know Him more, if all I have to do is know where to find the correct answers about Him? Knowing where to find answers of how to live correctly in any situation in the Bible means God becomes a formula. If A, then B. If B, then C. And then who would really care about God as God anymore? Christianity would become just another religion, people trying to get to heaven by doing everything right.
And then God showed me something freeing and beautiful. He cares so much more about having a relationship with us than about us getting everything right. He created us with free will so that we can choose what we're going to do, whether it's what is right or what is not right. Yeah, we're going to make some wrong choices, but the relationship is still there. And then He provided us grace so that when we do choose what is not right, we can still have that relationship with Him. It's so simple, so complex, and so beautiful.
So I can ask myself "What would Jesus do?", but the answer might not be found in red ink in my Bible. The answer just might be found in seeking His heart and in wanting to know Him better. The answer just might be found in being in relation with Him. And I think that's a pretty good place for it to be hiding.

People of faith: Rene

Sometimes it's a rare opportunity to meet brothers and sisters from around the world. As I've been here in Peru, I feel privileged to have met many new family members who have encouraged me and become a precious and important part of my life. I wanted to share some of their stories with you, to give you the privilege of "meeting" them too. This, I'm hoping, can become a series of blog posts over the next few weeks or months.
The woman with me in this picture is Rene. She has become a dear friend over the months that I've been here. Rene is in her early forties and is a single mom to Nando, who just turned 14 in June. Rene is on the worship team with me at my church in Huacarpay. Our friendship really started to grow last year when I joined the worship team. I was told that practice started on Saturday evening at 6. Thinking like an American, I arrived around 6, to find the church locked and no one there. So I decided to go down the street a little way to Rene's house, since I knew where it was and it was close. This ended up becoming a normal routine, one that has been a blessing to me (and she says it is for her too). Rene lives in one large room, which she has divided into three with curtains. The front room is a hair salon/tailor shop/small clothing and accessory store, which provides her with income. The other two rooms are a bedroom and a dining room. Her kitchen is semi-outside in a patio with corrugated tin acting as a roof. Yet, despite humble circumstances, Rene has a heart bigger than many people I know. Whether it's bread and tea or leftovers from lunch, or even lemonade, she always gives me something to eat. Even more importantly, she has shared with me her friendship and love. We have become part of each other's support system and family. Since Rene became a Christian, her family has been very distant and has not wanted to hear what she has wanted to share with them. She told me one time that she feels more close to the people from the church than to her own family. I also look forward to the times I get to spend with her every week. We have a relationship of mutual trust and sharing from the heart.
One day recently, when I was in Huacarpay, Rene shared with me that her aunt, who owns the house where she is living, asked her to move out by the end of September. Her aunt apparently wants to do some renovations or something. So Rene's looking for a place to live. She can live in one of the rooms of the church, but she has no place there to put her shop. She also bought a small lot in a neighboring town, but has no money thus far to start building a house. She is hoping that one of the men in the church who have a truck can help her get some rocks to start the foundations. She says sometimes she feels alone. I keep reminding her that she is not. And in so doing, I am reminding myself of this truth as well. We are a part of the body of Christ, which means that we are never alone.
Her faith in the midst of everything is beautiful. Last week when I went out to Huacarpay, there was no light at her house, for some reason only known to the electric company. Silhouetted in the light of a candle, as we cooked together on her small stove, she shared with me what God had spoken to her as she read the story of one of the kings in the Bible. An enemy king was attacking Israel. The enemy king had said that the Israelites shoudldn't trust God, that no one could deliver them from his hand, not even God. But the Israelite king decided to trust God anyway, since he knew that God's power was greater. And God ended up killing the enemies of Israel without the Israelites even having to do a thing. Rene shared the story with me and spoke of her faith that God will do the same for her, that He will deliver her and help her. It is beautiful to see how God has taken Rene from someone who used to worship the local saints and journey annually to Ccoyllorrity to worship the god-image there, to someone who now worships the God who lives in her heart, the God who has never abandoned her, the God who always provides. She has become a precious sister to me and I'm thankful for the opportunity of having her in my family and in my heart.

Starfish and footwashing

Being a teacher, there are some days when I just get plain down frustrated. My kids aren't cooperating or things aren't turning out the way I was hoping or I feel like I'm not doing a very good job. Any number of things can cause this frustration. This morning was one of those mornings. My parents are here visiting and yesterday was a rather difficult day in all my classes, which they, unfortunately, got to see. I was sharing my frustrations with them this morning. I realized the need to let those frustrations go before I needlessly took them out on my kids. So the combi on the way to school turned into my prayer closet as I asked God to minister to me and "wash my feet" this morning. I got to school and as I was there, I began to feel better, though I was still not where I wanted to be. And then it happened. God reached down and washed my feet. We were in chapel and between doing motions for the songs and throwing out things that my kids had in their mouths, I was standing in the back behind my kids. Johana motioned with her hand for me to come over. She pulled something out of her backpack and handed it to me. Turning it over, I saw a starfish pin that said "I make a difference" and a card with a story on it. I knew the story, so I explained it to her, since it was in English. The story goes something like this, "There once was a young man who was walking down a beach. He came across a man throwing starfish from the sand back into the water to save their lives. There were hundreds of the creatures strewn across the beach. The young man asked the older man, 'Why are you doing this? Don't you know there are hundreds and you can't possibly save them all? Why bother?' The old man picked up another starfish and threw it back into the ocean. Turning to the young man he said, 'It made a difference for that one'." After I explained it to her, she indicated that it was for me. In that moment, I knew it was God speaking through her. I have no idea where she would have gotten such a thing or why she gave it to me. It was completely out of the blue, but it was unmistakably God at work in my life this morning. The pin stayed on my jacket all day and now got transferred to my backpack. It's a reminder for me of the love and grace of God and His ministry to me, no matter how or when or where or through who.

June in Cusco - Corpus Cristi and Inti Raymi

June in Cusco is quite the month. Seems like just as one celebration ends, another begins. I wanted to share with you a bit of the culture of Peru and what June looks like here. The month begins with the celebration of Corpus Cristi around the 10th. Corpus is supposedly a celebration of the body of Christ. Supposedly, because it really has nothing to do with the body of Christ. It is a Catholic adaptation of an ancient Incan Native American tradition in which the mummies of former Incas (rulers) were paraded around the plaza of the city to celebrate and honor them. When the Spanish came and conquered and wanted to convert the Incas to Catholicism (mostly by force), they decided to replace the mummies with saints and parade the saints around. (I've even heard that in some cases they put the mummies inside the saint statues in some way in order to heighten the acceptance of Catholicism). The tradition has persisted for the last roughly 500 years in that manner. Various churches around Cusco have their own resident saints. The part of Cusco where I live is called San Jeronimo. Surprisingly enough, the patron saint of this part of town is San Jeronimo! Since I'm not in the Catholic church, I don't know exactly how all this works, but this is what I understand. Every year, people who worship these saints are chosen or asked to be in charge of making clothes for the saints or carrying them into Cusco. It's a great honor. But it also comes with its downside. Many times people spend excessive amounts of money to fulfill their responsibility to the saint, so much so that their families suffer. I was talking to my friend Rene the other week. She gave me some interesting insight into this tradition. She told me she used to carry a saint before she became a Christian. She said she really believed the saint was God. I asked her if she ever wondered why, if this was the case, there were so many different saints. She said she'd asked and was told that they are all different expressions of God (or something like that). Coming from my Christian worldview of growing up hearing "Don't worship idols", I still have a ways to go to understand all this. Anyway, all the 15 saints receive richly ornamented, expensive, lavish new clothes and are carried into Cusco on litters from their various churches of residence. They meet in the plaza and form a parade around the perimeter. One by one, they are carried into the cathedral where they supposedly have some sort of party for a week. The entering of the cathedral is solemn. Each of the saints is preceeded by a band consisting of horns and drums. There are also highly decorated banners that preceed each saint to proclaim the name of the saint, where it comes from and some of its worshippers. Afterwards there are traditional dances. It is a procession full of color and noise. Most of the schools in Cusco have off that day, since it's a religious holiday. The plaza is packed with people. However, the holiday is not completely religious. It is also somewhat of a tourist attraction and many people come to watch and eat chiriuchu (a plate of cold food including guinea pig, chicken, fish eggs, seaweed, toasted corn, cheese and a thick, cakey omelet....I'm not sure how to describe that part). This dish is usually only eaten during this time of year. Close to the main plaza there is another plaza called the Plaza de San Francisco. The plaza is full of vendors all selling chiriuchu and beer. Can't forget the beer. No Peruvian religious celebration is complete without it. Many people go home drunk. Another one of the sad realities of Peruvian religious celebrations is that they are often followed by abuse due to drunkenness.
A week later, the saints are taken from the cathedral and carried back to their places of residence throughout the year. Though this is not as big a deal as is their advent to the cathedral, it is still important. People set up stands all along the route back home, selling mainly food and beer. We saw San Jeronimo's procession resting and eating in front of the prison on the way home from school.
Just as the saints are being taken back home, the parades for Cusco Day begin. Cusco Day is celebrated on June 24th. As its name suggests, it is a holiday celebrating Cusco and coincides with one of the most important religious festivals of the Incas: Inti Raymi. More on that in a bit. The 2 weeks leading up to Cusco Day are full of colorful dances celebrating the typical culture here. Schools work hard to prepare dances (during this time we are working hard on schoolwork, not dances, at PROMESA.) and participate in a contest in the main plaza. One night I went to the post office only to discover that one entire side of a main road had been blocked off in order for this competition to happen (this is a quite normal phenomenon and is accepted without complaint by the motorists of Cusco). I decided to head up to the plaza to see what was going on. I stood there for about 2 hours watching the dances (unfortunately, I didn't have my camera with me). The dances also continued on for a while after I left around 9 PM. The funniest part was the man with the big drum protruding from his stomach Energizer bunny-style and the Energizer knapsack on his back. That one made me laugh.
The dances and parades continue day after day, with virtually all the schools and colleges participating. Bellas Artes, a local art college, does its own parade every year with all sorts of floats. The culminating parade is on June 23, the night before Cusco Day. Businesses, organizations, neighborhoods, people from the communities around Cusco - all are invited to participate. The parade lasts for hours, with music, some floats, dances, and a ton of people in ponchos walking.
Cusco Day dawns bright and early. Again streets are blocked off and the celebration of Inti Raymi begins. Inti Raymi literally means Festival to the Sun. The Incans believed themselves to be children of the sun and worshipped the sun as their supreme deity. Inti Raymi was celebrated in Incan times and repressed by the Catholic church with the advent of the Spanish. For hundreds of years it was not celebrated until someone decided in the mid 20th century that the practice should be resurrected. It is a time of asking the "father sun" to be kind and to bring a good harvest and not forget the people. It's also a major tourist attraction, probably even more so than an actual sun-worship ceremony. The festivities begin in Korikancha (the ancient Incan temple of the sun - the name literally means "the golden place"), early in the morning. During the times of the Incas, Korikancha was built in such a way that the sunrise on the morning of June 24th hit the temple of the sun just right and the whole room, covered with gold, shone brilliantly. Today there is a colonial church built on top of it and there is no gold (thanks to the Spanish) and that part is lost. It is, however, still the beginning point for the celebration of Inti Raymi. The Inca, after much fanfare on the part of the court (honestly, sometimes it felt more like they were worshipping the Inca rather than the sun), emerges from Korikancha and sings a song to the "father sun". The ceremony is entirely in Quechua, since that is historically accurate. The Inca is played by a professional actor. Royal Incan lineage plays (or has historically played) somewhat of a part in the choosing of this person. The ceremony here is rather short and all the courtiers and lastly the Inca then move to the main plaza of the city for stage 2. The courtiers enter the plaza in groups - the musicians, the dancers, the soldiers, the princesses (literally chosen young women called ñustas who served the Inca), the Inca's wife and lastly the Inca himself. There is much fanfare, dancing, ceremony, color, music and celebration. Again, the Inca sings to the "father sun" and meets with the mayor of Cusco to admonish him to be a good ruler of Cusco and remind him of the values of his people. After this ceremony, the entire group moves up to Sacsayhuaman, the ancient Incan fortress overlooking the city, where the main sun worship ceremony takes place. Again the fanfare. Again the worship. Again the ceremony, the music, the color. Since Inti Raymi is such a tourist attraction, the only really really good views are from the main stage area (which costs about $70 a ticket). But the hills are covered with people for hours before the beginning of this ceremony, trying to see what they can from where they are. The entire procession enters the stage area, again with much ritual. The Inca receives reports from the four regions of the empire and then there is the reading of the coca leaves and the most important part, the sacrifice of the llama (due to animal rights, this is not truly carried out, but is simulated). It's a long day, ending about 3-4 PM. My friends and I left early to go home, so there are no pictures of either of these parts.
However, if you'd like to see more pictures of all these events, please click here to view the album I made on facebook.
Being here in Cusco, sometimes it is hard to know where worship ends and tourism begins. During these holidays, some people really are worshipping the saints and the sun. Others are just there for the chiriuchu or the tourist aspect. Vendors selling ice cream in the streets make a killing. But, whatever the motives of the people may be, I pray that God opens blind eyes and softens hard hearts so that people can see who He truly is and be open to Him. I pray that the glory of the Lord shines upon Cusco and that all may truly know Him. Jesus, You are the only one really worthy of worship.

Majorities and Minorities

The past month in Cusco has been full of many things. June begins the dry season and winter. The mornings are cold and the days are warm and sunny. Just before mid-June, Corpus Cristi happens. This festival celebrates the saint statues that are housed in various cathedrals around Cusco. They all are brought to the main cathedral for a week. More to follow on this, but suffice it to say that, wow, there are a ton of people. The main plaza is completely blocked off to traffic. None could get through anyway. There are that many people packing out the plaza.
Just when Corpus Cristi is over and all the saints are being returned to their various places of residence, Cusco Day happens. Every June 24, Cusco Day is celebrated. Before this day, there are dance competitions with all the schools in Cusco (we don't participate, we actually do work throughout this time). There is also a huge parade of many of the employees of various businesses and residents of various neighborhoods. Again, lots of people and blocked roads.
The actual day of the 24th, there is an annual festival of the sun, a ritual dating from the Incan times. It's mostly touristic at this point, however, it seems. Again, lots of people and more blocked roads.
And then today, we had a March for Jesus. It was easy to tell that we were the minority. Life as normal swirled around us. Cars waited for us to pass. People watched us curiously as we walked by. It wasn't a big deal for anyone but us. It was sad to realize this fact. As I entered the plaza, I remembered how packed it had been the last few times I was there. Now, it was much emptier. The police were standing in a row, if by any chance, just in case there would be some kid of behavioral chaos.
And yet, small as we were, we worshipped. And it was beautiful. We came with hte PROMESA kids, singing and cheering Jesus all the way in English and Spanish) and none of them complained about the long walk, even thouh they were quie tired by the tine we got the plaza. And God was there. We may be the minority, but someday, in faith, maybe we'll be the majority. Maybe someday we'll fill up the plaza, just like everyone else. Till then...keep marching!

My kids

I wish you could meet my kids. Guess that sounds strange in a way for a single person to be saying. One of my third graders asked me the other month if I had kids. I told her I had 55. She looked at me rather agog, mouth and eyes both wide open, and said "55 kids?!". I calmly responded "Yeah, third grade, fourth grade and fifth grade". She thought this over for a few seconds and then said "So, we're your kids?" "Yes, you are", I replied.
I really do feel like my students are my kids. And rather than contradicting this feeling, my kids only feed it. They regularly call me Mami (mommy in Spanish) in class, always correcting themselves and laughing about it afterwards. I even got called Grandma the other week. I won't incriminate anyone on that one... :) They don't wake me up in the middle of the night complaining of hurting tummies or bad dreams, but they do enter my dreams in the middle of the night and they keep me burning the midnight oil sometimes to get everything done on time. They don't clamor at my shoulder for me to come play with them after school and lunch are done, but I do end up working for them during that time. They don't ask me for money, but I do spend it without them knowing. They give me hugs and tell me they don't want me to leave. I give them hugs back and tell them I'm not leaving for a while yet. They tell me they love me. I tell them the same.
My kids make me laugh. Like the other week when Dany was conducting an orchestra in the middle of singing a song in class. His whole little heart was into it and it made me laugh so hard that I couldn't keep singing and the entire class was wondering what was wrong with their teacher! Or the times that they say or do something funny that just makes my day.
My kids make me frustrated. Like when they don't know a word that I'm sure they should know because they've heard it a ton of times. Or when they don't pay attention in class. Or when they are talking during class and I have to keep talking to them.
My kids bless me. Like when they write on their homework "I love you Miss Bethany" or when they come up and give me hugs as I come into the room. Or when they get excited to see me. Or like the other day when I was having a private counseling conversation with Magna during recess and Mabelin made sure we were done before she left the other 5th graders enter the room.
My kids also make me want to cry sometimes. I am not one who cries easily whatsoever. But they make me want to. My heart breaks for Magna and her family situation, for the horribly mean things her dad says to her, for the stress she's under at home because of her dad's affair, for the fact that her little life only has peace when her dad's away. I feel like I know her situation best because she actually talks to me about it. But there's also Alejandra, whose family is also in turmoil right now. And Leo. And Medli. And Ibet, who lives with her dad and misses her mom. And all the others whose problems I don't know about or only have inklings of.
The other day, because of an unexpected emergency, I taught third grade's Bible class on the story of Ruth. We'd just gotten done talking in the teachers' meeting about some of the situations in the school, so that was on my mind. It occurred to me as I thought about the story that it could apply. So as I dramatized the story for them, I emphasized the fact that God never left Naomi alone. The family had problems. Naomi had problems. But God was always with her in that and never left her without someone to comfort her and someone to be with her and provide for her. In Naomi's case, that was Ruth. In the cases of my kids, who knows who that is. But I've been very thankful the last few days that God is an omnipresent God who can help my kids in all their problems and be with them always. Their parents might be fighting. They might be seeing abuse before their very eyes. Their family might be separated. They might have other problems. But God is with them. He is there to hold them and to never ever ever let them go.
So, in answer to my third grader's question, yes I have kids. 55 to be exact. Having 55 kids is a challenge. It's tough, but I love it. It's frustrating, but it's so rewarding. Sometimes I feel a bit like Old Mother Hubbard. Sometimes I feel like the queen of the world. Sometimes I want to ream out parents. Sometimes I want to ream out myself for not being more like Jesus for my kids. I want to be able to love them all unconditionally, no matter how they respond to me in class or what nasty habits they have. I'm finding I need to work on that part some more. They drive me nuts. They drive me to laughter. And they drive me to Jesus and to realize more about my own self.
I have 55 kids. And I wouldn't trade where I am for the world.

Thou shalt have no other gods...

Recently, there have been two instances when I have been made keenly aware again of the idolatry that runs rampant here in Cusco. Thanks to the influences of both Incan Native American beliefs and Catholicism, religion in Cusco is a nice syncretistic thing involving, among other things, witch doctors, reading coca leaves, adoration of saints, and making burnt offerings to the Mother Earth. At this time of the year, there are two festivals: Holy Week and the Velada de la Cruz. Holy Week begins in Cusco with the procession of the patron saint of Cusco, Señor de los Temblores (Lord of the Earthquakes). I'm a little unclear on the exact beginnings of this particular image, but it was somehow involved in supposedly stopping an earthquake or it wasn't damaged in said earthquake or something. So now it is revered as the patron saint of Cusco. Its home is in the cathedral of Cusco, where it resides for about 363 days of the year. The Monday of Holy Week (the week before Easter), it comes out and gets paraded around the city. It ends up back at the Plaza de Armas (the main plaza of the city where the cathedral is located. The last 500 yards of its journey are surely the most difficult. The plaza is packed with thousands of people wanting to touch the statue and receive blessings from it. Many eager hands clamor to touch it and the path of those carrying it is strewn with flower petals. After crawling its way through the crowd, it is then returned to its home in the cathedral, behind golden doors, on top of an altar adorned by flowers, flanked by Mary and Joseph on either side. Recently, I had the opportunity to go into the cathedral for a concert. I took a picture of the Señor de los Temblores, to share on here at an opportune moment. Looking at the Señor de los Temblores, the verse in the Bible that talks about being able to freely approach the throne of grace came to mind. Here is the patron saint of Cusco, locked up in a church building behind a grated, golden door, at the top of a massive altar, so far away no one can possibly touch it. Even taking a picture of it is not necessarily permitted (shhh....don't tell anyone!). In front of the golden doors that form one wall of the home for this saint are candles ready to be lit as part of petitions. There are also wooden boxes to collect alms for the Señor de los Temblores. In the middle of the aisle along which he rests is a kneeling bench for people to come and pray to the Señor de los Temblores about whatever they want. The night I was at the cathedral, there were a surprisingly large number of people who utilized this bench. It all is very sad to me. During Easter week at school, I was talking with my kids about Easter. In third grade, we got to talking about the Señor de los Temblores. I asked my kids "Does he have ears?" No. "Does he have eyes?" No. "Does he have a brain?" No. "Does he have a heart and lungs?" No. "Do you think he can really hear you?" No. I found it interesting, standing there observing during the concert, watching people kneel before the image to pray, that children get what adults do not. Good Friday in Cusco is actually, in some ways, more celebrated than Sunday itself. People go to mass and the faces of the saints are covered. Supposedly, since Jesus is now dead, the saints are as well and people can basically do what they want. In Lucre, a village close to my church in Huacarpay, where the Mennonite church also has a building and where about 15 of our students at PROMESA come from, there is a procession of priests carrying saints to various places and then returning them to the church again. The whole week is full of idolatry and many excuses for drunkenness (as if any were needed).
Last week, I went out for my weekly pilgrimage to Huacarpay. When I arrived, I was informed that I had come in the middle of Velada de la Cruz, a festival that worships the cross - not Jesus, not what He did on the cross, not what the cross means, just the cross. We heard fireworks as we were preparing the songs for worship the next morning. At one point, Rene said "Run to the door and you'll see a procession of people carrying a cross down the street." Sure enough, she was right. Unfortunately, I didn't take my camera (bad timing!) to capture any pictures, but I saw at least two such processions throughout the weekend. Right next to the pastor's family's house, where I sleep on Saturday nights, is a shrine where there was much cross-worshipping happening all night. Fortunately for me, the room where I stay with Lisi and Abigail, the pastor's two daughters is the farthest away from the shrine. Add that to perpetual tiredness and I slept like a log all night, not hearing anything. Ines, the pastor's wife, however, assured me the next morning that, yes, the music and partying went on all night. Walking to my friend Juana's house with her and her sisters after church the next day, I saw another makeshift shrine to the cross set up along the side of the street. Under a dark green tent, a cross sat. In front of the cross were racks of candles, some lit, some not. I did notice, however, that more were lit when I was leaving than when I was coming. Or so it seemed. This festival apparently lasts for 3 days every year.
These two instances lately have reminded me of the idolatry that surrounds me here and the lostness of the people of Cusco. There are many more things I could add, but I'll leave it at that. Please join me in prayer for God's light to dawn on Cusco and drive away the ever-present darkness of sin, to bring God's freedom and saving grace to this needy land.

Never a Dull Moment...

I had a funny experience today in third grade. Walking into the room for English class right after recess and snack, the first thing I saw was Winny with a container containing lettuce and cucumbers sitting beside her. Presumably her snack. THEN I saw the two big snails on top of the lettuce. I connected the snails with the salad and thought "What in the world? Did she really find those snails while she was eating her salad? How did her mom miss that one?" So I asked her. "Winny, were those snails in your salad?" She explained that the science teacher asked them to bring in animals for their science class today. I told her what I had thought and we both laughed. I must admit to feeling relieved.
The class eagerly informed me (and showed me) that besides Winny's snails, there was Hefzi-Ba's fish and Sebastian's cat (yes, a real live cat that stayed in his desk until it distracted him, at which point he put it in his backpack and fed it crackers because it was hungry...I am not making this up!). Earlier Franco's dog visited the class too.
Then, as we were beginning class, I happened to see Hefzi-Ba with her mouth on a straw. The other end was in the bottle serving as the temporary home of her very frightened fish. Again, in the instant thoughts of a teacher, my brain connected the two and I blurted out, "Hefzi-Ba, are you drinking your fish water?!" She looked at me like "Are you crazy?" and said, "No, I'm giving him oxygen". At which point I said okay, again very relieved.
And then as we were reading our monthly Bible verse, my brain wandered to these two incidents and I had to control myself to keep from laughing in the middle of the verse. Instead, I waited till the end to burst out laughing and recount the two incidents to the entire class, who laughed right along with me.
Oh what a day...call me Noah.