Fabrizio and Aline

I'm writing with sad news regarding the family of two of the youth with whom we work in the favela of Sao Joao. As many of you know, Ulisses and I are leading a soccer program with the intention of generating more opportunities for discipleship. Fabrizio (pictured on the far left side of the bottom row) and his sister Aline are two standouts in the program, as both are quite demonstrative and outspoken. They are also leadership types. Aline leads by force, while Fabrizio leads through personality. Their development of these attributes is largely the product of their family dynamic. Besides the two of them, there are seven other children in their home. In a family this large, you learn to play the hand that you're dealt in order to find your place. This lends itself to a more keen awareness of identity, which is obvious in the two of them.

Last Friday, we discovered that their mother had died due to complications in her health. Her death took the family completely by surprise, as there were no real warning signs of any problems. Needless to say, they are experiencing a range of emotions with her passing - sadness, numbness, anger, and fear. However, the situation is further complicated by the fact that their mother was the only caregiver, as the father has been out of the scene for years now. Under such circumstances, the kids are usually parceled out to various family members - a solution that wreaks havoc upon personal identity and the child's system of support. I would appreciate your prayer for their family at this difficult time. Please pray specifically that God would guide those in the family that are having to step up and make significant decisions that will shape the paths of at least nine kids.   

Normal?

About a week ago, I heard about the assassination of two men in the favela. The first of the two was a drug addict that had crossed the wrong people. The second was a pastor who had intervened on behalf the former, pleading for his creditors to show clemency. The pastor's request was denied, and when he refused to step down, he was silenced with a gunshot to the head. The other man's death was not so quick to come. His assassins tortured him for an undetermined amount of time before finishing him off. My reaction to this story - a combination of incredulity, shock and disgust.

One week prior, Ulisses and I were coaching soccer in a different favela. Waiting for the youth to arrive, I was sitting on the bleachers. To my left were a group of 4 little kids, the oldest of which could not have been more than 5 years old. As we sat, two dogs approached and decided to share an intimate moment in front of us. The kids descended the bleachers, grabbed some sticks, circled the dogs and began beating them. Still engaged in the act, the dogs growled and snapped back at their aggressors. I stepped in, but not before the kids got in a few more kicks to one dog's side. My reaction to this episode - complacency and apathy.

Of these two stories, the one that concerns me more is the latter. Why? Not because I'm banging the drum for animal rights, but rather because of my disparate reactions. The first story elicited what I would deem a proper emotional response of dismay and anger. However, witnessing the second episode didn't faze me in the least. In my time in the favelas, I've seen so many dogs beaten with sticks, birds pelted with rocks and cats attacked with firecrackers that it all just seems normal now. And it's normal that scares me most. Normal stifles grace not because change seems impossible but because affronts to the nature of God becomes imperceptible. Honestly, I cannot say that I still notice the piles of trash, the bootlegged electric lines, the harsh words of a mom to her child or the addicts that line the vacant allies characteristic of the favela. I know that these are symptoms and not the essence of the problem. But, I don't like being in the place where it no longer affects me, where it no longer compels me to plead for God to intervene. I ask for your prayers in this. I ask that God would give us, as a community, eyes to see as He sees.    

Elements of Community - Disciplines

While it was not intentional, it is appropriate that the element of discipline, or habitual activity, should follow the blog on the organic nature of community. I say this because, for most of us, structured consistency and vitality are antithetical concepts. Think about it. If I were to describe a friend's prayer life as habitual, would you think I was paying him a compliment or accusing him of legalism? Our problem is that we often confuse spontaneity with sincerity and structure with oppression. However, it is extremely naïve to think that communities just spring up out of the ground of good intentions. We must learn to embrace the paradox that the spontaneity of life is actually promoted and preserved through structure. 

I was reminded of this last week. Occupied with my studies, I had forgotten my habitual Tuesday visit to the grocery store. When dinner time rolled around that evening and I was staring into a fairly empty fridge, I felt the fallout of my omission. Dinner that night was eggs and rice. It looked as bland as it sounds. The next day I repeated the error and forgot to go to the grocery store, and, once again, we ate eggs and rice. Sadly, my absent-mindedness continued another couple days, and we continued living off of the same staple. At one point, I tried bathing the elements in barbecue sauce, but that accomplished little for in the end, it was still just eggs and rice. Those tasteless and fairly monochromatic meals etched in my mind the direct relationship between my preparedness and the potential for creativity.

Applying this principle to the house, we have found (through trial and error) that we grow best together when we submit to an agreed upon structure. This structure involves house meetings, prayer times, chores, community service and planned leisure. Outsiders may consider this type of approach too regimented. We discovered, however, that when we just wait for spontaneous and emotive expressions of community, we end up missing each other.  

 

Elements of Community - Organic

Community has vitality. It is born out of commitment. It breathes through mission. It is nurtured through disciplines. It grows through service. It rests through celebration. It is alive. More than that, it imparts life. It is this characteristic of livelihood that distinguishes a community from a mob. The best manner I know to illustrate this point is through a story I posted earlier on this blog. It goes like this.

It’s 7:30 on a Saturday evening a few years back, and I’m driving 12 kids home after a visit to the mall. We travel 10 minutes down a narrow dirt road, bordered by trees to the left and a drainage ditch to the right. We drop two kids off at their aunt’s house and are looking to head back. I try a three point turnaround, but only make it to point number two. The VW van is a lot longer than my VW Gol, and I’ve backed us into the drainage ditch. The front two tires are about two feet in the air. Some of the kids scream in panic; others in delight. We get the kids out safely, and the neighbors begin to congregate around the van. I don’t even try to explain. There are certain acts of stupidity where you lose your right to excuses. But instead of just standing around and taking cheap shots at the gringo, the locals get right to work. The men start pushing on the back of the van, while the women put rocks under the rear tires to generate traction. Two guys put on their knee-high rubber boots so that they can get down into the mirky water and push more effectively. They refused to let me do the same, concerned that I would get my clothes dirty. Meanwhile, more people are streaming in from the community to help, as some of the older women have got the story in circulation. Six strategies and thirty minutes later, the van surges from the ditch, amidst a shower of rocks, mud and applause. Embraces are exchanged, and I’m invited to visit more often - under different circumstances. The crowd still lingers in my rear view mirror as I consider what it is like to live among people who need each other.

This is what I'm referring to when I cite the organic element of community. Mission, strategies, service and celebration assume a certain livelihood that is, in turn, imparted to others. 

Elements of Community - Beautified View of the Poor

I have a friend who is poor. I'm probably not allowed to write that, but I think it's a fair representation of how most of you who are reading this blog would assess him financially. Now, he's not miserable, beggarly or destitute - just poor. When I first met him, he and his wife lived off about US $240 per month. His home has unpainted, cement walls that lack some windows. His living room is about the size of a walk-in closet, and the small rotating fan that they use at night in their Africa-hot bedroom is considered a luxury. He'll take a pair of shoes that I'm throwing out, wear them for a year, and then, when they are completely worn through, fashion some type of sandal out of them for fishing. I am blessed to call him my friend.

Given my relationship with this man, you think I would suffer some sweeping reform in my view of the poor. But, I find in myself the same tendency all too pervasive in our culture to classify the indigent in one of two categories - nuisance or charity project. The nuisances are blown off with an averted glance, while charity projects are offered spare change and pity. I live in the tension created by entitlement, societal greed and personal indifference pitted against Jesus' recognition of the blessedness of the poor. Where is the release valve?

The only answer I see is a beautified view of the poor. We have to move beyond our conditioned responses of either a cold shoulder or a hot meal. The poor must have a place with us. There must be room for relationship. For it is through relationship that we can communicate of the provision of God in their lives and they can remind us of our condition before God. In this way, we perceive that we are far more bound with them than we feel comfortable admitting. Then, suddenly, the they and the we in this conversation no longer makes sense. This is what we are striving for in the Sombra Road house.