A Lutheran In Senegal

Reformation/Harvest Festival in Linguère

I was up in Linguère for the weekend, presiding at the annual Harvest Festival for the Dental Issañankobe Jolof—the Christian Community of the Djolof region. Their regular pastor, ELCA missionary Dirk Stadtlander, was in Benin representing the ELCA at the General Assembly of the Joint Christian Ministry in West Africa (JCMWA), a network of churches and mission organizations who work among the Fulani people. Dirk had asked me to preach and preside at this worship service, one of four annual celebrations: Easter, Pentecost, Harvest/Reformation and Christmas. In the last year, the congregation has begun to meet for worship weekly on Sundays, reserving their old established pattern of a full weekend of shared meals, fellowship, tea, and evening worship for these four key times in the church year.

Like most stewardship services, there was a time in the service for people to present their annual pledges, tithes and offerings. A “first fruits” text from Deuteronomy 14:22-27 helped frame the vision for giving—and it was remarkable how little had to be further contextualized, since much of the Old Testament context still exists among herdspeople and subsistence farmers in rural Senegal.  Members of the community were encouraged to give an annual gift, in addition to the weekly or monthly offerings given in worship. Those who had recently gathered a harvest were urged to bring an actual portion of the harvest, which would later be sold at the Linguere market. Those who live, as the Deuteronomy text says, “too far away” were urged sell their produce closer to home, then bring the money to the worship site.

But this being a predominantly Fulani community, and the Fulani being traditionally herdspeople, the vast majority of members were urged to bring a portion of their herds—sheep, goats or cattle—to be blessed and dedicated for God’s mission in and through the community. Some of you may remember that this had been an offering practice within the DIJ for several years; a shepherd was commissioned by the community and a congregational flock was set apart in 2003 (you can read about that first offering service here). For the last five years, that flock has been maintained—added to and subtracted from—for the needs and ministry goals of the community. As most Fulani traditionally consider their wealth in terms of heads of animals, so the congregation had its communal account “on the hoof.”

But this celebration was not only that of the harvest, but also of the Reformation. And I as shared in the sermon on Saturday night, one of the more famous slogans of the Reformers reminds us that the Reformation will always need reforming: semper reformans reformanda. Changing times call for changing traditions. Likewise, as the community has begun to take on more responsibility for their own ministry, they also need a more available and “liquid” form of communal account. So the decision was made this year to gather any newly offered animals, along with the existing communal flock, and take them directly to the sheep and cattle market in nearby Dahra. The proceeds from this annual sale will make up the congregation’s ministry funds for the year.

As with many changes, it might just take a couple of tries before this truly catches on. While several people did make substantial annual gifts—at least one sold a portion of his crop to give to the church, and one woman donated a lamb and a kid to be eaten in the celebration dinner—there was neither the commotion nor the excitement of live animals being processed toward the altar to be blessed during worship. Still, the community came out en masse, fortified by the newest members (evangelist Insa Diallo and his family), neighbors (a worshiping group led by Dr. Ousmane Soh from nearby Dahra) and friends (the Roman Catholic community which frequently shares worship with the Lutherans). The meal, worship, and fellowship time were a great blessing to me and, I hope, to many others who were there.

Jarama, Jarama, Jarama
Jarama, Almasihu, Jarama!

Peter
(from the DIJ Post-Communion Canticle, “Thank you, Christ, Thank you!”)

From Another Lutheran In Senegal: "US Elections and the World"

Last week, I heard this quote on BBC radio, “When America sneezes, the whole world catches a cold.” This, of course, can be seen in the recent financial crisis on Wall Street and its international repercussions, but also in the intense worldwide focus on the November 4th US elections. I am amazed at how everyone is tuned into the presidential race; it is on the television and radio news daily, it is the focus of current newspaper and magazine articles, and is often the topic of discussion. People here, regardless of their educational level, know who the candidates are. I’ve had conversations with taxi drivers and the immigrant Guinean fruit sellers about Obama (even the illiterates recognize his name!).

Another colleague asked me if I was Republican since my name was Sarah (he hadn’t seen my Obama/Biden button). Of course, people all over Africa like to lay claim to Barack Obama and who can blame them? His candidacy has probably generated more interest here than in the past because of his connection to the continent.

However, my point is: How many average taxi drivers or fruit sellers (or teachers or lawyers or business owners for that matter) in the USA are as interested and informed about any other nation’s elections in the world? My guess is I’d be hard pressed to find even one. It is humbling to think that the USA has such an impact on the rest of the world. US registered voters are the fortunate ones who are able to vote in this election, but so many millions more people will be affected by this decision. As hopeful as I feel about this election, I am conscious of the taxi drivers and fruit sellers (and teachers, lawyers and business owners) who are looking to me to make wise choices that will affect all of us.

Jim Wallis of Sojourners wrote a brief article outlining his "faith priorities" that will guide his choices as he votes this fall. Given the current international economic and geopolitical situation as well as our immediate context here in Senegal, what he says in this list really resonates with me. I invite you to read it for yourselves here.

Thank you!

Sarah Grow-Hanson

Prayer All Around Us

“Mr. Diop can’t come to the phone right now; he’s praying.” This wasn’t the church office I was calling, nor a theological school. It wasn’t a religious leader who was too busy praying to come to the phone. In this case I was calling a bank, but it could have been a hardware store, a bakery, a travel agent or the phone company. This was not the first time I’ve heard this when I’ve called for someone. I wish that more often someone said that about me, too—that I was praying and shouldn’t be disturbed.

People here in Senegal pray—Christians and Muslims alike. They pray openly, they pray often, they pray, as Paul might say, “without ceasing” (1 Thessalonians 5:17). Before last Saturday’s soccer match, several members of the national team stood with their palms open to receive a prayer of blessing, while others crossed themselves before entering the field of play. A recent public event at Community Center Galle Nanondiral (CCGN) began with a local Iman invoking a blessing in an authentic Muslim fashion, and ended with a Catholic priest leading the Lord’s Prayer. In the Lutheran Parish of Dakar, the presiding minister spontaneously calls on one or two people in the assembly to pray for the particular requests of that Sunday. Our neighbors marked the 25th night of the month of Ramadan with an all-night prayer vigil. Prayer abounds here; it begins, ends, interrupts at times extends beyond the day’s activities.

But people in Senegal don’t just carve out time for their prayers, they carve out space. As we drove past the bus depot in Keur Massar—the sprawling exurban district just past Yeumbeul and Malika, we saw the make-shift prayer shelter, tires stacked in neat pillars formed into a rectangle with a slightly rounded arch at one end, indicating east, toward Mecca where Muslims typically direct their prayers.  There, in the midst of bright blue and yellow Car Rapides and dingy white Ndiaga Ndiaye minibuses  in various states of disrepair, people knelt down to pray, heedless, if only momentarily, to the overcrowded, cacophonous fume-filled space all around them. Holy space created by stacks of worn down tires.

People we know don’t just ask for the prayers of those around them, at times they insist upon them. Our family was saying good-bye after a brief visit to a friend and former co-worker whose family had just moved into their own home. We had nearly completed the Minnesota-like lingering good-bye as the hosts accompanied us out the door and to our car when it suddenly occurred to Marie that we had not prayed together in—and for—their new home. So back into the house we traipsed and standing in a circle in the not-quite-finished living room, we offered prayers of blessing, prayers of thanksgiving, prayers of protection for the family and their home.

Prayer is woven into the fabric of everyday life. It’s normal. It’s expected. And when I call someone and they’re busy praying, as often as not I hang up and say a little prayer myself. A prayer of thanksgiving that prayer is in fact all around us.

You’re in my prayers.
Peter

The Choices We've Made

Something dawned on me as we were cleaning up our apartment in St. Paul at the end of this summer. Sarah had already gone back to Senegal, and I had asked the boys to help clean the place up before we turned it back over to the manager. I asked Elijah to vacuum the living room and dining room, not realizing that he had never done that task before. He proceeded to vacuum over our cell phone charger, getting the cord all tangled up in the brush mechanism, and causing a smoky electrical burning odor in the house. 

It wasn’t as bad as it seemed—or smelled—at the time. The charger and the vacuum both still worked just fine. But what occurred to me at that moment was that Elijah had never used a vacuum cleaner before in his life.  Now, I don’t know if most ten-year-olds in the US operate vacuum cleaners on a regular basis—and that’s kind of the point. I don’t know what’s “normal” for ten-year-olds in the US because our ten-year-old doesn’t live in a normal American household. The choices we’ve made in our life means that there are some opportunities that many US kids have that our boys have not had.

They’ve never played t-ball or little league baseball. They were very late to learn how to ride a bike—in fact Simon still hasn’t learned. They don’t know the characters or situations on American TV, or many American movies. American football remains a mystery to them. They can’t name the capitals of the 50 states, and may be hard pressed to name the 50 states. Beyond McDonalds, they don’t know much about fast food chains. 

On the other hand, they go to school with kids from all over the world. They are fluent in a language besides their mother tongue, and can greet people in at least one other. They can name the nations of the European Union, and their capitals. They can identify most of the flags of Africa. They can name the best players on all the European soccer leagues, as well as the quarter-finalists for each of the last few World Cups and African Cup of Nations tournaments. They know the difference between a good a bad mango. They know the protocol for eating rice and fish from a shared bowl. They are familiar with the daily call to prayer, and know the importance of at least two major Muslim holidays. They are no longer surprised to see a dozen or so camels on the side of the road on the way to Linguère. 

Whenever we decide to move back to the US, it will be quite an adjustment for us all, but maybe especially for our kids. There are many things they will have to either learn very quickly, or else be comfortable with not knowing. Still, we like to think that we’ve given them an opportunity not just to see another part of the world, but to actually live in it, and we hope and pray that this choice that we made continues to be a positive thing for them—helping them to become citizens of the world, with understanding, respect and compassion for all people, those who are like them and those who are not.
Eventually, we’ll probably have to teach them how to vacuum, mow the lawn, rake leaves and perhaps even (gasp!) shovel the driveway. For the moment, we’ll have to be content with them remembering to take off their shoes, put down their mosquito nets, and turn off their fans.

A back log of ideas...

I've had lots of ideas and false starts since my return from the US this summer. Check back later this week for more completed thoughts!

Peter