Day in the Life of St. Andrew's Pastor

Cairo is a city of 20 million people; it is easy to be overwhelmed in every way. I take the Metro subway into the city as it is relatively less stressful than the city streets. It carries me to St. Andrew’s United Church of Cairo. But, riding the Metro in July is like sitting inside a hair drier. I anonymously ride with the throngs of unknown people with whom I share this city. I have heard it said that the congestion here is like that of the city streets immediately after a rock concert. After a concert, there is a flood of people from the stadium. In Cairo it is as though there is a rock concert ending all the time. Here, forty percent of the population lives on less than $2 per day. During this time of year, you can add to this reality a full measure of Sahara sun and heat. It is constant and oppressive. On some days, I literally can feel the pollution as I breathe. And as I ride along on the train, I ponder how I can respond to the harsh phrase I heard recently about this region I love: “life is cheap.”

In this region where I serve, this statement ‘life is cheap’ can be applied in many places. At St. Andrew’s Refugee Services, refugees are fleeing from Darfur. These Sudanese come to Cairo in the tens of thousands with nothing in their pockets. Within the context of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, I recall the continued plight of our Palestinian brothers and sisters in the Evangelical Lutheran Church of Jordan and the Holy Land (ELCJHL). I lament how the prolonged conflict is weighing down the capacities of all the people who live there. Even in Lebanon lives of the disabled are secondary in light of the decades-long distraction of civil and political unrest. It is easy in these places to feel overwhelmed, undervalued and anonymous.

I am grateful to experience the way in which God’s work and our hands are making people feel valuable and valued. Nobody is cheap. In Lebanon, programs for the disabled provide jobs and a future of hope. Our programs and personnel within the ELCJHL integrate themselves into the life of the local Lutheran programs and ministries, providing a needed presence of faithful accompaniment.

And here in Egypt, St. Andrew’s Refugee Services finds a way, against many odds, to provide an informal school for over 800 refugee students each week. My Metro train arrives at Nasser Station and many of the passengers file out the doors of the train with me. Together, we mount the steps from the tunnel and enter into the city. It is already loud, crowded and hot. An Egyptian man I have seen before greets me with a ‘sabah el kheir, assis’ (good morning, pastor). Only ten steps away is the gate to St. Andrew’s. The buildings in the complex are dirty. This is not only from the pollution and desert dust, but also from overuse. Construction is underway on another classroom for their school. Several people wave at me. Some shake my hand, including one of the Sudanese pastors. He leads one of the congregations who share our sanctuary. In the courtyard, a large group of Sudanese children are kicking a football around as I carefully weave my way through them. As usual, the ball comes to me and I quickly pass it to an open student, careful not to drop the computer bag on my shoulder. The church door stands open. And I walk in.