Saturday, April 17, 2010
A Family of Baseball Players
Monday, April 12, 2010
A Picture to Remember
In the age of digital photography, many of us consider ourselves amateur photographers. With digital technology, we can take as many pictures as we want. Then, we can adjust color, contrast and lots of other features in the picture to make it appear the way we want it to be.
Even with this kind of advanced technology, nothing can change the picture's composition. Foreground, background and interpretation of the whole photograph can't be changed no matter what kind of computers or cameras we have that might enhance this or that part of the photograph. I have not made any adjustments to this picture. It is exactly how my Pentax K100D took it. I do not think it needs to be changed at all.
First, we see a common, Egyptian shepherd wearing his grey galabaya (long overshirt). The boys wear them as pajamas. It is also common for Egyptian men to wear a mustache or beard. Seeing sheep and goats in the rural parts of Egypt is also very common. And finally, I think it would be very common to see a man such as this 1,000 years ago.
Second, in this picture you can see both the dry desert in the foreground on which animals, and people alike, find their sustenance. Historically, the Nile is the only source of water in Egypt. That aquifers supply water for Egypt is only a modern reality. The Nile continues to irrigate the landscape you see in this picture so that literally, you can place one foot in the desert and one in the green pasture.
Finally, you can see the 4,000-year-old Bent Pyramid in the background. Egyptologists think that it is 'bent' because the architects realized that the incline of the early construction would weaken the overall structure. They changed the shape to graduate the slope. Since they made this change, the pyramid is remarkably preserved.
Amazingly, Egypt has not only the three famous pyramids of Giza known to everyone, but over 120 pyramids on the Western side of the Nile, starting at Giza in the north. On a clear day in Giza, you can see southward to none other then 8-10 pyramids. The Bent Pyramid is one of my favorite pyramids because it's smooth sides remind me of what all the pyramids would have looked like before time and stone-stealers got the best of them.
Finally, these pyramids amaze me as a pastor and biblical historian. While I can not make this promise very often even in the Holy Land to the north, I can say with 100 percent certainty that the Holy Family would have stared in amazement at these marvelous structures. And, I wonder sometimes if Mary and Joseph would have pointed out the pyramids to their baby Jesus just as modern parents do today. Did they stand with equal amazement? Would they point them out on the horizon to their son, wondering if Jesus would remember seeing them someday? Frankly, I ponder this with my young family, too.
You could say that something happens to me if Mary and Joseph shared in these experiences as I do with my young family. In an unusual and subtle way, I am connected to God in a new way. I think it has to do with finding myself staring at an amazing monument as the One who came to pronounce a new understanding of God. This is kinda cool.
I also think it has to do with a new-found identification with Jesus' parents. They brought their child to this foreign land just as I did. They have a parental hope similar to mine, that my boys would grow into hope and aspirations beyond themselves to make even a modest but positive impact in the world. I think that it the longing of parents everywhere, even if you have never moved far away from your home territory.
Whatever the reason, this picture gives me pause. When I think about it, I am not surprised that it does.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Easter Greetings
Christians throughout the world join their voices together with "halleluiahs" with the resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ. I hope that your celebrations were meaningful for you.
At St. Andrew's yesterday, we celebrated with our usual diverse crowd of people from different countries and Christian denominations. Our 10am English-speaking service brought us to the tomb like Mary, encountering the emptiness and mourning of that experience. Then, we read the Easter Gospel to experience the full excitement of the disciples as they rushed to understand what had happened. Of course, we sang the traditional hymns of Easter Sunday like "Jesus Christ Is Risen Today." Our choir that sings on major festivals sang "We Are Marching in the Light of God" in Swahili and "He Is Risen." We held an Easter brunch afterward; the Philipino dishes and the Canadian chili were my personal favorites.
I also was honored to preach at the combined Sudanese service yesterday afternoon. I have gotten used to preaching to Sudanese congregations, as it is part of my duties at St. Andrew's. Since the Easter service lasts about four hours, the pastors usually come and get me in my office when the service draws closer to my preaching time. At first, this practice made me feel a bit privileged and protected, I quickly learned that this kind of 'coming and going' is somewhat standard.
Being invited to preach on Easter Sunday is an honor, but I am also aware that the Sudanese pastors who share our worship space at St.Andrew's are just as capable as me to deliver to the congregation the promises of Easter. I am aware that just because it comes from a theologically-trained, white Western Christian does not mean that the message is better or more blessed. I have had the Sudanese pastors preach for me from time to time within the English-speaking congregation to model this understanding. Their messages may be differently constructed from the way I was taught, and they might not be as Lutheran in theology as I have been trained, but I trust that my members see God within our diverse expression of faithfulness in our setting.
Here is a greeting for Easter our congregation recieved from the President of the Protestant church of Egypt. It is part of the greetings that are exchanged between the Christian communities.
At St. Andrew's yesterday, we celebrated with our usual diverse crowd of people from different countries and Christian denominations. Our 10am English-speaking service brought us to the tomb like Mary, encountering the emptiness and mourning of that experience. Then, we read the Easter Gospel to experience the full excitement of the disciples as they rushed to understand what had happened. Of course, we sang the traditional hymns of Easter Sunday like "Jesus Christ Is Risen Today." Our choir that sings on major festivals sang "We Are Marching in the Light of God" in Swahili and "He Is Risen." We held an Easter brunch afterward; the Philipino dishes and the Canadian chili were my personal favorites.
I also was honored to preach at the combined Sudanese service yesterday afternoon. I have gotten used to preaching to Sudanese congregations, as it is part of my duties at St. Andrew's. Since the Easter service lasts about four hours, the pastors usually come and get me in my office when the service draws closer to my preaching time. At first, this practice made me feel a bit privileged and protected, I quickly learned that this kind of 'coming and going' is somewhat standard.
Being invited to preach on Easter Sunday is an honor, but I am also aware that the Sudanese pastors who share our worship space at St.Andrew's are just as capable as me to deliver to the congregation the promises of Easter. I am aware that just because it comes from a theologically-trained, white Western Christian does not mean that the message is better or more blessed. I have had the Sudanese pastors preach for me from time to time within the English-speaking congregation to model this understanding. Their messages may be differently constructed from the way I was taught, and they might not be as Lutheran in theology as I have been trained, but I trust that my members see God within our diverse expression of faithfulness in our setting.
Here is a greeting for Easter our congregation recieved from the President of the Protestant church of Egypt. It is part of the greetings that are exchanged between the Christian communities.
Shore Time during Holy Week
Even with Spring Break scheduled over Holy Week, we still took the opportunity to take two days on the shore while the kids were off from school. Some friends of ours invited us to join them at their home in a development close to Ros Sudr on the Gulf of Suez. It is also known for kite surfing, a new sport deploying a large circular kite to pull the boarder across the water. Here are a couple pictures.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Prayer Time and Hair Cuts
Since it is Saturday, we are getting family errands done. Michele took Alex over to the grocery store, to the school campus for some exercise, and then to a haircut. I kept Andrew and Liam home with me to await for the grocery store's delivery. Then, we made our way over on foot to the Maadi Grand Mall, five blocks away, for our own haircuts.
We walked past the neighborhood mosque filling with men for noontime prayer time, one of the five times of obligatory prayer each day. I had heard the call to prayer from this mosque, and other mosques in our neighborhood, as we made our way from our flat. The call to prayer of the muezzin in Cairo is always in full stereo and surround sound. This is because mosques are located everywhere. And, they are in a variety, and even surprising, locations. There are grand and large mosques in Islamic Cairo, exemplifying the historical period in which they were built and the attraction of many thousands of tourists each week. And, there are neighborhood mosques in the lower level of apartment buildings, almost invisible to the eye. They look more like large, empty rooms than mosques. But at prayer time, especially during Friday services, the streets outside the mosques are full of people and commotion, just like a typical church on a Sunday morning.
As we walked among and past the men gathering for worship at our neighborhood mosque, I knew that we might have difficulties getting our errands done.
Let me explain. I suspect there are some who might not feel safe in the midst of men gathering for prayer at the mosque. Such is the story told in our western media, that all Muslim men are bound to harm Americans. Andrew, Liam and I would make very easy targets. But you need to know that we feel completely safe. Not only is this a normal occurance to intermingle with Muslim worshipers, but sometimes our familiarity and curiosity gets the best of us. I had to ask Liam to not stare into the door of the mosque too obviously.
We continued our walk to the mall, and as I suspected, the shops were closed. But as always, they were not empty. They were closed in that they were not servicing customers. They were full in that they were full of men praying.
We first went to the restaurant where we hoped to get a sandwich. We looked through the windows as we walked toward the door. The tables had been pushed to one side, green carpets had appeared from the storage room and spread across the floor, and a group of men had filed into rows facing Mecca, performing their ra'kas simultaneously. A sign over the door handle at the entrance of the restuarant read, "Closed for prayer."
We went upstairs to the barbershop. It was empty. This time, people were praying down the hall. We even noticed one man praying inside a elevator being serviced. It would not surprise me if this was the repair man who stopped what he was doing, cleared the floor around him, spread his rug, and performed his prayers.
By the way, we got everything done, but not on our time frame. No problem.
We walked past the neighborhood mosque filling with men for noontime prayer time, one of the five times of obligatory prayer each day. I had heard the call to prayer from this mosque, and other mosques in our neighborhood, as we made our way from our flat. The call to prayer of the muezzin in Cairo is always in full stereo and surround sound. This is because mosques are located everywhere. And, they are in a variety, and even surprising, locations. There are grand and large mosques in Islamic Cairo, exemplifying the historical period in which they were built and the attraction of many thousands of tourists each week. And, there are neighborhood mosques in the lower level of apartment buildings, almost invisible to the eye. They look more like large, empty rooms than mosques. But at prayer time, especially during Friday services, the streets outside the mosques are full of people and commotion, just like a typical church on a Sunday morning.
As we walked among and past the men gathering for worship at our neighborhood mosque, I knew that we might have difficulties getting our errands done.
Let me explain. I suspect there are some who might not feel safe in the midst of men gathering for prayer at the mosque. Such is the story told in our western media, that all Muslim men are bound to harm Americans. Andrew, Liam and I would make very easy targets. But you need to know that we feel completely safe. Not only is this a normal occurance to intermingle with Muslim worshipers, but sometimes our familiarity and curiosity gets the best of us. I had to ask Liam to not stare into the door of the mosque too obviously.
We continued our walk to the mall, and as I suspected, the shops were closed. But as always, they were not empty. They were closed in that they were not servicing customers. They were full in that they were full of men praying.
We first went to the restaurant where we hoped to get a sandwich. We looked through the windows as we walked toward the door. The tables had been pushed to one side, green carpets had appeared from the storage room and spread across the floor, and a group of men had filed into rows facing Mecca, performing their ra'kas simultaneously. A sign over the door handle at the entrance of the restuarant read, "Closed for prayer."
We went upstairs to the barbershop. It was empty. This time, people were praying down the hall. We even noticed one man praying inside a elevator being serviced. It would not surprise me if this was the repair man who stopped what he was doing, cleared the floor around him, spread his rug, and performed his prayers.
By the way, we got everything done, but not on our time frame. No problem.
Sudanese Youth Deepen My Perspective
Our small Sunday School program at St. Andrew's is showing some signs of growth. Some of the growth we see is in the new presence of Sudanese refugee children whose English is developed within their Africa Hope school in Maadi run by the Maadi Community Church. Serving the broader community of refugees is a good way to grow.
These Sudanese kids are brought to church by a Sudanese man named Peter. He lives in Maadi and leads the Sudanese Lutheran congregation which worships on Friday evenings at St. Andrew's. These Christian kids live in his building and he wants them to be in Sunday School. So, he brings them to St. Andrew's each Friday. Again, can you ask for a better way to grow?
With my Friday afternoon responsibilities, I am at St. Andrew's with an empty car. Michele and the boys head home earlier than me. So, I have been bringing Peter and the kid's home each Friday afternoon. It saves them a ride on the Metro and a long walk from the station to their building.
Last week, I paid attention to some details of our ride back to Maadi together, watching and listening to them as we made our way together. I observed that they don't know how to 'flip' the middle seat to get into the back. They are fascinated by the seat belts, which they are not used to buckling. They are curious about the buttons and knobs. And, they are visibly excited to be in my car. And, the Star Wars action figures left behind by my own boys were a fascinating addition to the mix.
As impoverished refugees in Cairo, are these children used to riding in a relatively new vehicle? Are they used to riding in a private car at all? Do they know about Star Wars?
So, here's a random thought from Cairo: The next time you drive routinely and thoughtlessly to work or the store, think about how this simple experience could be unusual, special, or even a treat.
These Sudanese kids are brought to church by a Sudanese man named Peter. He lives in Maadi and leads the Sudanese Lutheran congregation which worships on Friday evenings at St. Andrew's. These Christian kids live in his building and he wants them to be in Sunday School. So, he brings them to St. Andrew's each Friday. Again, can you ask for a better way to grow?
With my Friday afternoon responsibilities, I am at St. Andrew's with an empty car. Michele and the boys head home earlier than me. So, I have been bringing Peter and the kid's home each Friday afternoon. It saves them a ride on the Metro and a long walk from the station to their building.
Last week, I paid attention to some details of our ride back to Maadi together, watching and listening to them as we made our way together. I observed that they don't know how to 'flip' the middle seat to get into the back. They are fascinated by the seat belts, which they are not used to buckling. They are curious about the buttons and knobs. And, they are visibly excited to be in my car. And, the Star Wars action figures left behind by my own boys were a fascinating addition to the mix.
As impoverished refugees in Cairo, are these children used to riding in a relatively new vehicle? Are they used to riding in a private car at all? Do they know about Star Wars?
So, here's a random thought from Cairo: The next time you drive routinely and thoughtlessly to work or the store, think about how this simple experience could be unusual, special, or even a treat.
Life lessons within the start of the baseball season
I am delighted that the community is large enough in Cairo to hold an annual baseball season. All three of the boys are in baseball or t-ball, which will keep them in step with normal spring rituals that have given me so much satisfaction over the years.
As is so often the case in international living, the call for resourcefulness applies here as well. Being flexible and working with what is available is an important lesson in life. And, the baseball season in Cairo draws this out in spades.
Resourcefulness Lesson One: Ready or not, step up to the plate. I have been asked to coach again this year. I have no problem doing this, and have done so in the past. I opted in the past to be an assistant because of my travel schedule. This year, I also requested that I coach Andrew's team, as the 7-year-old skill levels are different than Alex' 11-year-old demands. I was not sure I could teach the fundamentals needed for the older crew. Well, as the preseason responsibilities were dolled out among the very few people offering to coach, not only did I become a head coach, but I also have taken responsibility for Alex' team.
Resourcefulness Lesson Two: Who said experience is needed; just get out there and play. I have been thinking about 11-year-old youth in the US going out for baseball. Obviously, the exposure to baseball media and player leagues is much more developed and at a much earlier age. 11-year-old youth in the US would try out for a new season with a good level of experience.
Cairo is different, as five of my thirteen players have never touched a baseball before. Two brothers share a glove. An assistant coach has never played before; at least he has his own glove! Need I go on?
During warm ups on Wednesday night, I was teaching among the players who were doing a soft-toss drill. I turned to walk down the line of players and one of the new inexperienced youth hit me with a ball square in the forehead. I knelt down briefly to the sound of accented-English words of 'I'm sorry', feeling for the quick swell of a lump, with the sound of 'thump' echoing in my head. Thankfully, there was no goose-egg or bruise for church services yesterday. Pastor Peter's appearance does not need to be the center of the story on Palm Sunday.
Resourcefulness Lesson Three: Be prepared for surprises. One of the new players is good...really good. He has good athletic ability and knows how to stay down on the ball. He throws with high arcs (very high) but is relatively accurate. And, he almost gave me another lump on my head during batting practice last week. His parents have emailed me to say how much is enjoying the sport. Nothing feels better than getting a surprise from an unexpected place.
I think there are some good lessons for living here, no matter where you might reside or if you play baseball. It is a trick to live fully and richly with what I have. I can always learn to do this better. At least I can play baseball while I do it.
As is so often the case in international living, the call for resourcefulness applies here as well. Being flexible and working with what is available is an important lesson in life. And, the baseball season in Cairo draws this out in spades.
Resourcefulness Lesson One: Ready or not, step up to the plate. I have been asked to coach again this year. I have no problem doing this, and have done so in the past. I opted in the past to be an assistant because of my travel schedule. This year, I also requested that I coach Andrew's team, as the 7-year-old skill levels are different than Alex' 11-year-old demands. I was not sure I could teach the fundamentals needed for the older crew. Well, as the preseason responsibilities were dolled out among the very few people offering to coach, not only did I become a head coach, but I also have taken responsibility for Alex' team.
Resourcefulness Lesson Two: Who said experience is needed; just get out there and play. I have been thinking about 11-year-old youth in the US going out for baseball. Obviously, the exposure to baseball media and player leagues is much more developed and at a much earlier age. 11-year-old youth in the US would try out for a new season with a good level of experience.
Cairo is different, as five of my thirteen players have never touched a baseball before. Two brothers share a glove. An assistant coach has never played before; at least he has his own glove! Need I go on?
During warm ups on Wednesday night, I was teaching among the players who were doing a soft-toss drill. I turned to walk down the line of players and one of the new inexperienced youth hit me with a ball square in the forehead. I knelt down briefly to the sound of accented-English words of 'I'm sorry', feeling for the quick swell of a lump, with the sound of 'thump' echoing in my head. Thankfully, there was no goose-egg or bruise for church services yesterday. Pastor Peter's appearance does not need to be the center of the story on Palm Sunday.
Resourcefulness Lesson Three: Be prepared for surprises. One of the new players is good...really good. He has good athletic ability and knows how to stay down on the ball. He throws with high arcs (very high) but is relatively accurate. And, he almost gave me another lump on my head during batting practice last week. His parents have emailed me to say how much is enjoying the sport. Nothing feels better than getting a surprise from an unexpected place.
I think there are some good lessons for living here, no matter where you might reside or if you play baseball. It is a trick to live fully and richly with what I have. I can always learn to do this better. At least I can play baseball while I do it.
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