Jesus' puddin's

From the UK it is difficult to appreciate the lack of resources in the Spanish speaking world. For example, there are over 100 books in English on “The Trial of Jesus”. So far in Spanish I’ve located three: one written in 1842, one translated from French and another for those between 0-4 years of age.

It’s the same in the sewing world. If you want how-to instructions on making whatever by hand, there are hundreds of free YouTube guides in English. There’s almost nothing in Spanish, hence our recent efforts (now there’s fabric flowers: http://www.youtube.com/user/0stresscolombia).

This inequality is connected with a variety of factors like wealth, education, Biblical heritage and a philanthropic approach to our neighbour.

It also means sending people from Scotland to Peru and Colombia is well worth the cost. Puddin’s we might be, but if you don’t usually have one, they’re a welcome treat.

Photo: No wedding photographer, so everyone’s the photographer

This week's question

There’s been another local murder: a girl who refused to hand over her motorbike. Our barrio is jittery, some local women are frightened to leave home alone even in daytime. A Colombian colleague prays that the Lord would make Olwen invisible when she goes out.

In an attitude I find difficult to emulate, she refuses to be intimidated and was off at night-time into a dodgy part of the city meeting some Ecuadorians. They’re a group of Quechua speaking Christians who’re starting to get involved in the sewing project.

I keep my head down by concentrating on classes. Not that that’s completely peaceful. This week we had a re-enactment of the Sanhedrin at Jesus’ time, complete with Pharisees and Sadducees denouncing each other. As women couldn’t be part of the Sanhedrin, the female students were the accused. The charge: calling a wee boy an angel, it could be a capital offence, depending on your theology of angels.

It’s a risky life whether in Medellín or ancient Israel or anywhere else, until we’re in heaven. Last week I asked, “Why not come and visit us?”, this week it’s “Why not come and join us?”. Plenty of scope, plenty of needs and it’s always sunny.

Photo: Luis Fernando has just finished a project on Christ's sufferings and Colombia

We’d love you all to visit us. So I hope what I write won’t scare anyone off.

On Saturday afternoon, we went to see a comedy about French cooking. Before the film started, instead of warnings about mobile phones, there was a chilling re-enactment of children being kidnapped by guerrillas from a Colombian village. It was screened to make us remember another reality.

The next day we heard of an entire football team, called the Peanut Men, being taken and murdered. They evidently sold peanuts on the border with Venezuela: not the most likely reasons for assassination.

And last night two of our best loved lecturers, Don and Elizabeth Sendek, were attacked when their taxi drew into the Seminary residency. They lost their laptop, however mercifully not their lives – the city’s murder rate is escalating, the robbers were armed, and Don fought back.

Before all this happened I had compiled a video of our students’ regional night with their different dances. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tgcO3ZHHIt8

There’s still a time to dance. Do come and join in.

Life under a curse

There was a neighbour who used to wolf-whistle at me when I went out running in the early morning. Last night he was murdered. The family reckoned he had been cursed as he suffered from a psychiatric disorder which when combined with marihuana or the full moon made him uncontrollable. He was well built, in his mid-20s and had been stealing from another barrio. Two teenagers from there came and killed him: a life is valued at the cost of a few trinkets.

The Seminary’s immediate neighbourhood is one big interconnected family and some of them come to the sewing room. They reckon the only person that’s sorry about his death is his granny. There’s no notion of his importance as a human being in the image of God.

Today in the class we examined the Spanish Conquistadors treatment of the Indians in the name of Christianity. They too were sold for trinkets and killed like soul-less rats.

How powerful are James’ words about genuine Christian faith resulting in doing good. It’s not much, but the sewing room tries to show this to local families, and to others through YouTube:

http://www.youtube.com/user/0stresscolombia

Photo: Local people at a sewing room meal

Flies or mosques?

The Spanish for mosque sounds like the word for fly. When speaking about Islam, students love to try and trick me into saying fly, and then roar with laughter. Every day you’re reminded that you’re a foreigner.

But it’s a busy time for some of the students. As the semester closes they have to get their theses in. This year I’ve three groups to supervise. One is on how Jesus suffered in his death and what lessons there are for suffering Christians in Colombia. A second group, of Pentecostalists, is working on Calvin’s teaching on the Holy Spirit and comparing it with their own church’s doctrine. Finally one student is looking at why the oldest church in the city, the Presbyterian, has grown so little in its 125 years existence.

Although we’re foreigners we want to help Christians understand how the Bible, theology and evangelism works.

And it’s an honour even if our help is fly-sized.

Photo: Living with violence: Lima street poster showing children on a dump of arms

This half-semester I’m teaching History of Israel: New Testament. It’s an introduction to Jesus’ world: culture, history, literature and so on. We started off with a virtual tour of Palestine.

At the end of the class, the student rep asked if he could say something. This sometimes happens and concerns internal student affairs. Today was different: “Let’s have the dream of going on a class trip to Israel”, he said. Now the rep is sincere and Christ-like but poorer than a church mouse (the mouse doesn’t owe Seminary fees). So us realistic souls just smiled, packed away our books and had something amusing to tell our wives.

Two days later in a shopping centre I saw pictures of Israel, placed by a group of students who’d come back from a visit. They’d been funded by an Israeli-Colombian association.

Today I let the students know about the funding, and recharged my practice of faith.

Photo: Dreams and reality can combine: Olwen photoshopped on the Lima coastline