Hospitality and Worship

Templo Casa De Dulzura is more than just a ministry site served by attendees to Lantern Hill, it is the home congregation for the team at Lantern Hill. The structure is basically a box, a large rectangular building with brightly painted walls (thanks to a recent visit from a group of American teens), and a large raised platform at one end. Front and center is a large podium (pulpit) faded with age and bearing no adornment. A well-worn upright piano sits next to the platform. As I take a seat in the recycled theater seats (comfy, but with the cup holders removed), I notice that along the ceiling line behind the pulpit, I can see daylight coming in between the roof and the walls.

In my mind, I can't help but think of the dozens of "church" meetings I've sat through in my ministry career, where the central focus has been on upkeep to the physical plant (structure), even at the sacrifice of the ministry that the building houses. Hmmm... I wish I had a few of those council members with me today.

What made the whole morning memorable was not the physical space, however (again, hmmm....) but instead the hospitality of the people. Many could not speak a word of American english, but they expressed their sincere welcome and hospitality in ways I have rarely experienced in many American churches. EVERY member spoke to us...granted it is not a large congregation.

The music was uplifting, provided by Lantern Hill founders JJ & Abby, playing alongside Samuel & Gabby, two Mexican brothers who are also the pastors sons. All of the lyrics were sung in Mexican spanish of course, and a young man (9 yeras old) named Julio, stood beside me, pointing out the pages and the lyrics in a hand-made, three ring binder. Fluent in english and spanish, he made the whole experience truly special for me.

In all my posts to this blog it has never been my intention to romanticize any of what I have experienced. But this was yet again one of those situations where I couldn't help but think to myself how much we could learn in the states from our sisters and brothers here in Mexico. Their economic realities dictated that their physical space was NOT the priority, but I woinder if it would be, even if they had a few more financial resources? Instead, their hospitality, passion and Spirit-filled focus was on the sharing of the Gospel, and the various ways they lived that out.

A Day of Rest

Wednesday, we took a break from ministering with our brothers and sisters here in the valley, and took a drive up "Valle de Guadalupe" through some of the richest wine country in all of Mexico! The valley has over 25 wineries, and while we were not poised to stop at them all, we were determined to visit a few.

What an enjoyable afternoon! While this is not the tour that many of my peers in ministry will opt to do with their youth in tow...I'd highly recommend it to couples, families and peers who might opt to study at Lantern Hill, take sabbatical here or come here to write a thesis, for example.

At Vinerio Xanic, we met Erica. Educated in Canada, with a degree in psychology, she was unable to find work in her career field in her native Mexico, so she had turned to working at the winery and along with helping in the tasting room, she had a number of management responsibilities.

Once we shared that in our party were two youth ministers, two young adults close in age to her that were serving at a local mission/servant ministry site, and the missionary who started the site, the conversation shifted dramatically.

Erica’s passion was working with children, particularly children from abusive families situations. Since the ministry at Casa Esperanza focuses on women and their children transitioning out of abusive households, JJ made the invitation to Erica to consider using some of her days off perhaps serving in that community with the Lantern Hill team. She seemed truly flattered and excited by the possibility as she was feeling in her words, “unfulfilled."
The invitation, coupled with the fact that she now sensed she was with a group of seemingly caring “tasters” prompted Erica to begin to share about a recent failed relationship and her sense of loss, battered self-esteem, and desire to be connected to others in significant ways. The whole experience was lovely.

I found myself thanking God that even in the midst of our “chill” day He had presented us with an opportunity to be in accompaniment with a sister in Christ. Erica shared a piece of herself with us enhan the day for us all, and perhaps in taking that risk had opened up opportunities for the children at Casa Esperanza to benefit from her expertise. Finally, it had opened the door for Erica to reconnect with her passion in a healthy and real way. I never cease to marvel at the way the Spirit works through and among us in our daily experiences.

Unlivable

Unlivable...

The ravine is maybe a quarter mile across, half as deep as it is wide, with steep inclines on either side. It runs a number of miles in each direction, emptying onto a boulevard at one end and disappearing into the rugged mountain range that forms the Baja on the opposite end.

Unlivable...

Each wall of the ravine is a combination of clay and protruding rock, rugged and unforgiving, dusty in the dry season and muddy in the wet season.

Unlivable...?

The Mexican government deems this area, dubbed the "freelands" by the American missionaries as unlivable, and yet it is filled (packed) with the makeshift "houses," if you can call them that, of squatters trying to find work in Ensenada. In fact, thousands live here! It is the poorest of the poor when it comes to city living. I would compare it to the conditions at the "concrete village," in the agricultural areas south of the city.

Unlivable...?

By many American standards, yes. Most of us wouldn't think of living in the conditions we found in the "freelands." Yet, the people come, looking to improve living conditions for their families. The people here work hard...some in the factories, some in the shops and the tourism industry of Ensenada, a growing port city that hosts three cruise ships a week. This is a step up for many, who simply want to make enought to provide housing for thier children. So they construct homes from cardboard, old tires, old RV's, corrugated steel, plywood...basically whatever they can scrape together. Their is no plumbing, no electric, except what they can tap into off the live wires passing overhead to the nieighborhoods just up the mountain. This is after all, an area deemed....

Unlivable!?

Lantern Hill has established a ministry site only blocks from the "freelands," with Mexican partners Javier and Martha. This inner-city location, called Baja 89, is a concrete house that houses Javier, Marta, and their children Junior and Anna on one floor, and a ministry center on the other. Javier's dream is to provide better education for the children of the neighborhood. He is convinced that the only solution for the people of this neighborhood to escape their poverty (many live in conditions just a little better than the "freelands" in the ravine below), is to better educate themselves and not settle for a life of drugs, crime or worse.

Javier and Marta provide the neighborhood with early childhood development kinds of activities, a feeding program on weekends, Bible study, and classes in english as a second language. Lantern Hill is collecting computers for Baja 89, to be used in a computer class starting there, hopefully in 2010. They are a blessing to their community and to those of us who serve alongside them. They are taking unlivable conditions and making them just a bit more livable.

Change is the ONLY Constant

"Panales" (diapers) she said with a smile that filled her face almost like that of a cartoon figure with an oversized grin. She may have been 16 or 17. She was delighted to see us partly because we had just passed out the blankets and baby jumpers that a neighbor had requested during our previous visit to the "concrete village." (see "The Boss," posted here on Nov 1)

We were surrounded by children, maybe 20, some holding our hands, others wanting held or carried, still others who'd run up, touch us and then run away, as if they were initiating some game of tag. It was a very different experience than our visit just five days before. Maybe it was because JJ was making a point to come back more frquently, and they began to recognize his face, or maybe it was because every time someone ask for something specific, we were able to deliver? Maybe she just sensed that we were not just there to drop off goods, but that we genuinely enjoyed the reception we got from she, her neighbors and the children.

We had started our day at Margarita's home, a local women who kept a second-hand shop on her property. She had plenty of blankets and fleece baby jumpers and we could support the local economy by buying from her, while still getting a large supply of what we needed at a reasonable price. It was a win/win...a scenario that does not always present itself in the world of compassionate justice, ministry and service. But today, Margarita had all we needed and we loaded up the truck and headed for "concrete village."

We had planned for this to be the first of several stops, as there were other communities we wanted to visit, but the reception we got was so warm and the feeling so genuine that it just felt right to stay.

"Panales" and "bebe formula" she said...that's what the girl with the big grin needed. She walked along with us, holding her infant of maybe three months, as the children surrounded us, and the women watched intently. She was our translator, as many of the Oaxacan people of this migrant community did not speak Mexican Spanish. Still the women were cautious...they had heard the stories of Americanos who came and took the children from some of these villages and their parents, all in the name of giving them "a better life."

But this day, we were simply listening, playing with the children and learning how we might be most helpful to this emerging community. That's often the course of this ministry...lots of listening, waiting and relationship development, which within a vastly different culture is a painstakingly slow process at times. Today it seemed we were making headway. An 11 year old boy ask for a backpack with supplies for school, and a small boy named Joy asked for a ball.

We said goodbye, double-checked our list of supplies and promised we'd be back in a few days with the needed materials.

Today we returned...with baby formula, diapers and food, a backpack for the young man, and a brightly colored ball which was put into immediate use. Again the children came, but this time the village seemed emptier. The girl with the oversized grin was no where to be seen. Inquiring with one of the other women we learned she, her family and at least two other families had left the day before, headed for southern Baja, hundreds of miles away, sensing there might be more work there.

Within days other families will likely fill the spaces vacated by the girl with the tender smile and her children. Other families chasing the promise of more work at a higher wage in the flower fields outisde Ensenada. The diapers and baby formula will not go to waste and the ball was a big hit. The young man got his backpack, and we established a list of needs for our next visit. But today we took an even bigger step forward. We asked one woman what she and the other parents might really want for their children, and the response came back, "more education," particularly to help them to learn Mexican Spanish...critical to their ability to enter the schools here in the valley. They might be receptive to us sending staff to the village a few times a week to offer a course in Mexican Spanish, which may also help some of the adults.

One step at a time...one day at a time...filling one need at a time...sometimes the patience seems to pay off. But, if there is one thing that remains constant in the mission field of the Baja, it is change. Who knows what we'll encounter next week? For tonight, as the temperatures drop again, my thoughts and prayers are with the teen mother with the large grin, her baby, young Joy and the others who even at this hour are likely making their way to a new village, a new opportunity, and a new life...for now.

What do you mean I have to put my toilet paper in a can?

Beside every toilet at the Lantern Hill retreat center is a smal plastic waste can with a bag liner. It's for used toilet paper...yep used. A first night reality check for most Americans who come here to serve, who are used to simply flushing their toilet paper. It's one of a number of sacrfices that retreat groups make that are early reminders that things are just different here. At Lantern Hill, groups are encouraged to turn off lights, to make sure to shut off water in showers and sinks when lathering up or brushing, and to limit the amount of packaging and trash brought here from America. Drinking water doesn't come from the faucet or even the front of the fridge, but is pumped from large plastic containers that are refilled almost daily.

Participants quickly begin to see these things as minor inconveniences or sacrifices when compared to what they witness in many of the communities where Lantern Hill serves alongside the people. As in many developing nations, there are large communities with limited electrical service, and some without any. Some have limited drinking water, while others have no potable drinking water and are forced to drink from the same water with which they bathe, do laundry and use for all other purposes. Some communities have no indoor plumbing, instead relying on outhouses or even makeshift "banos" using old blankets or sheets as privacy screens.

The truth is, what many of our retreat groups might consider a sacrifice is a luxury for many of the communities where we serve. It is a stark reminder of the many blessings we take for granted in America, and a marvelous practice in using less.

"You Wait Here, I Have Tractor"

The plan was to explore a few new agri-communities JJ had heard about from a friend. One was definitely a community established by the Pentecostals, with a church building that seemed to double as a community center, rivaling any structure in the valley in size. A large American flag flew outside the compound, and the sign read "saving the children." We stopped at the large house near the church, but learned the pastor did not live on site...probably a good thing, since as Lutherans we would likely not be welcome.

The next community was in sight, but a good distance from where we were. The dirt roads all begin to look the same at times, and you can drive towards something but end up at dead ends with great frequency. But this time we were well within range, in fact we could have walked to the back door of the closest house, but the road came to another dead end. We backed up and drove along the edge of a nearby farmers field, finding ourselves up to the wheel wells in loose silt and dust.

Minutes later we were on our bellies digging dirt out from under the rear chassis of the truck and looking for options to dig ourselves out. No shovel, no car jack, no four wheel drive...the options were slowly slipping away. Not so hot, the sun shone brightly and it was just windy and dusty, and after a few minutes of digging on our bellies, dust had found it's way into every inch of our being. As we sat on the bumper beginning to laugh at ourselves, the moment, and our condition, we were approached by a local farmer and his three dogs. An older man, he offered suggestions and even tried to help push us out, but he was a bit too frail, if not persistent.

Moments later, a second farmer drove by in a large pickup truck, and stopped to help. In broken english, not aware that JJ spoke rather fluent Mexican Spanish, he simply said "you wait here, I have tractor." Within minutes our new amigo was back with a tractor and a chain that was quickly secured to our bumper hitch. He had us out in a matter of seconds. We offered him 200 pesos for his help, which he insisted he would not accept, finally relenting to JJ's persistence.

I couldn't help but thinking after our experience, caked in dirt, while enjoying a taco at a local taqueria, if this would have happened in the states how might our experience have been different? We likley would not have been chassis deep in loose dirt to begin with, but that aside, would two separate farmers have come to our assistance? Would they have taken the time necessary to truly help us? Would they have had the time to run back and get their tractor, come back and pull us out at 11:00 AM in the morning? Would they have declined our offer for a reward? I'd like to think yes...but at the very least given the pace of our society, I wonder if anyone would have come along at all, and if so if they would have even had the time to help us in the manner that these men did.

It is another simple example of the consistent hospitality and grace I have experienced from the people of this region. Maybe even more importantly, another reminder that in our zeal as Americans to find the next front on which we will serve, we were humbly served by those with whom we minister on a daily basis. I continue to be blessed by the fact that despite the many complexities of doing ministry in this place that God continues to teach us in the simplest ways.

Trench Warfare

"One day we showed up and the trench was filled in," JJ explained as we walked across the stone filled remnants of the trench dug by a work group the previous summer. It was designed to catch the winter rains and funnel the water to a holding area, to alleviate the need for the women and children of Casa Esperanza to purchase additional water for bathing, cooking and laundry. "But that's what happens here. Depending on who's in charge, you never know what to expect," he continued.

The trench is symbolic of a bigger problem for the Lantern Hill team, as they strive to build relationships with a variety of communities in need in this argriculturally rich, but economically impoverished region of Mexico. In almost all of the "campos" where they have begun to form relationships, there are already Christian missionaries serving on behalf of primarily large evangelical fundamentalist congregations.

Initially, the thought of having additional Christian partners to alleviate some of the workload, assist with the growing needs of the community, or offset some of the financial burden is alluring, until they realize our theology doesn't align with their own. In some cases doors close altogether, while in others our role is limited so as not to "negatively" influence the people with our Lutheran Christian theology.

Some of the local migrant farm workers, who have been exposed to what they know only as the "Christian" church, which is different in these parts than the "la iglesia catholica" (Catholic church), have come to call the missionary approach as "Jesus for food." It is their way of describing the evangelical fundamental approach of bringing a large pot of rice and beans to an agricultural squatters community, sitting down and handing out bowls to the people in exchange for listening to their testimony about Jesus, for example.

For the most part Lutheran Christians have been absent from this region of the Baja, until Lantern Hill arrived. Our approach has been different. We enter a community, establish relationships with the people while helping with their needs when we are able. In many cases that means going to other local people, vendors, and shopowners to help supply basic items or services for survival. We strive always to witness the love of Christ, and to allow the Holy Spirit to act through us in serving and accompanying the people.

The communities where we serve have come to know us as "gringos" who do not ask for anything in return for helping to fulfill the basic needs and wants of the people, but instead as brothers and sisters in Christ, who seem to do what we say we will do, and who seem to want genuine relationship with the migrant workers and their families.

While the missionary leaders of some communities simply do not want the "Lutherans" involved, others have been receptive, albeit a times extremely catious. So we continue to try to build bridges in an effort to assist our partners in Christian service and ministry, and ultimately the migrant workers, their families, and the Mexican people with whome we serve. At times while that means having a few trenches filled in, and having a few doors close, if it means assisting with the needs of the people while witnessing Christ's love and God's Grace in a new and more freeing manner, it's worth it.

The Emerging Need

Oaxaca is thousands of miles south and inland from the Baja. Home to 16 native tribes, many of whom do not even speak Mexican Spanish, the poverty for many is so severe that the appeal of migrating to work in the agriculturally rich farms outside Ensenada is a step up in income. Here, a worker might earn as much as $3-$5 pesos a day if they are willing to put in 12-16 hours harvesting asparagus or fresh flowers by hand. With a twelve month growing season, a seven day work week, and only a few national holidays, one can earn a wage that will help provide at least one meal a day for a workers family.

Since most farm workers have come as far as 2,000 miles to this area south of Ensenada to find work in the farm fields, many have traveled with only the clothes on their backs. Farmers (land owners) will set aside a small portion of their land where the workers might "live" in small dwellings erected from whatever scraps of wood, tires, plastic or other materials they can find roadside, or in half-finished buildings begun by ambitious landowners, but abandoned when they ran out of money. These "campos" or communities might include ten to fifteen families of all ages, often with two or three generations living in one dwelling.

This is the ministry context for Lantern Hill (LH). The team connects with these various communities, offering everything from basic needs like food and clothing, to child care, education, and sometimes even medical assistance. At Casa Esperanza for example, a shelter for battered women and their children, Lantern Hill has begun a jewelry co-op, where women are given the opportunity, supplies and guidance to create jewelry that is then marketed and sold here and in the U.S., to provide a better wage, as well as dignity and proide to the women of this community. The children from Casa Esperanza participate in an after-school program offered by the LH staff, increasing their oportunity for a quality education, social interaction and recreation.

Similar partnerships have emerged at Agua Viva, one of the agri-communities that also has a a children's home, school, day care and feeding program. At Templo Casa De Dulzura, a Mexican church where the team currently worships, Sunday School areas have been added, the church was painted and other improvements accomplished in cooperation with the congregation. Baja 89 is an inner-city site in Ensenada, offering early childhood development, a feeding program, and an offering of English as a Second Language classes. At the concrete village, a truly emerging community, early connections are being made and the team is still identifying needs (see an earlier post on this blog).

The goal for LH has always been to listen first, and then to accompany where applicable. Accompaniment is never easy and takes more time, but is infinitely more helpful to the people with whome we serve, and to establishing lasting relationships. We strive to not only answer the question, "how can we help?" but also "why is this happening?" Putting groups that travel to serve at Lantern Hill into situations where they can not only serve alongside the people, but wrestle with the ultimnate question of "why" this is happening, is critical to this ministry.

The Boss

The wind was gusting. causing dust funnels that almost blinded us, as if the dust created by the truck traveling along unpaved roads wasn't enough. I commented how the temperature seemed to be dropping, even cold for a fall day in Mexico. Soon we came across pools of water puddling in the dust that kept the swirl of dust at bay for a brief time. They flowed from a cinder block edifice on one side of the road, that looked like an unfinished garage that had been abandoned while another shipment of block arrived. Lines of clothing were strung across the back side of the structure, the garments straining against the wind, freshly washed but caked with the dust that seemed to be everywhere.

We drove up beyond the end of the unfinished wall and into a courtyard of sorts, more resembling a compound. Three women stood hunched over a metal basin in the middle of the compound washing clothes, as the water slopped out the sides of the basins and ran streaming down the gulleys they formed in the caked red earth, eventually pooling in the puddles we had seen just beyond the concrete wall. The only finished wall of the structure lied just ahead of us, and formed the rear wall of what seemed to be eight to ten cells, would be the best description. Each had a door, and a cutout for a window, smoke billowing from some. The scent of cooking fires was evident as we excited our truck.

Children seemed to peer from every opening, some actually wandering out into the daylight to see the two Americanos who had suddenly appeared in their community. A few played in the courtyard, glancing at us as we stepped into the open, then returning to their preoccupation with the water streaming from the wash basins. Almost all were dressed in jeans and t-shirts, bearing American symbols well known to me, but thick with the dust that seemed to be everyhwere now. All were barefoot.

A man stood nearby, a short man in stature he smiled warmly as we approached because he recognized my friend as someone he could trust. They spoke briefly in a broken Mexican dialect, as this man known only as Hefe, the Mexican word for boss, was a native of this country. Coming from a tribe of people who did not even speak the language the Spaniards brought here, but a language all their own, he struggled to communicate with us but was friendly and hospitable just the same. A woman approached, who I found out later had never spoken to my friend before, but this day was in a talkative mood. She spoke a bit more Mexican, and was also friendly and talkative, although she never made eye contact with either of us.

The concrete village, as the team at Lantern Hill has come to know this place, houses about 150 people (probably half are children), in a space the size of a small American warehouse, or three bay American garage. The only difference is that our garages are fully enclosed, while the concrete village is a project never completed by the landowner, with a full wall on one side, a half wall on another and two exposed sides, forming a courtyard of sorts where most of the routines of daily life, liking washing and cooking are lived out in community.

Oaxacan people have migrated here to work in the farm fields nearby and squatted in this compound with others to form a community that helps nurture and support one another. The poverty here is as severe as I have seen it in Mexico, which by comparison to other developing nations is pretty similar. The people work hard, spending 12-16 hour days in the fields working for $3 or less per day. The village is a place of refuge, shelter and cover from the wind, dust and cold that has set in this day, as fall conditions descend on the Baja.

Jefe, the "boss" holds the title simply because he is the oldest man in the compound, and as such too old to get work according to local landowners, so he cares for the women who are not working and the children during the day, while others farm the fields. What we learned this day is that the need right now is for clothing for babies and warm blankets. As we depart, I can't begin to imagine how cold it must be there that night, as the temperature spurred on by the high winds, drops into the 40's.

We are in the earliest stages on forming relationships and a sense of trust between Jefe, the people of the concrete village and ourselves, so we will return with blankets and clothing, purchased from a local woman who sells second hand clothing and who lives at or near the poverty level herself. We'll share some more conversation in hopes that as the relationship builds, more opportunities for accompaniment will emerge. In the meantime, I pray that the wind dies down and the warm temperatures return soon.

I found Jesus here

Lantern Hill is a Lutheran servant ministry site and retreat center, south of Ensenada, Mexico. Located on the edge of a large agricultural farming community, the retreat center sits on a small peninsula about 3 football fields wide, and is flanked by the mountains that form the Baja Peninsula on one side, and the Pacific Ocean on the other. I chose this location as the place to start my sabbatical from my work as Director of Youth Ministry for our synod (a regional designation/name) of the Lutheran Church. I came to serve and learn from my friends who started this ministry, and from the native people, many of whom are living at or near the poverty line, who have migrated to this area of Mexico to find work. But I also came to rest and renew myself personally and professionally. Over the next few days, I will humbly try to reveal the story of this place, my time here, and my reflections about the experiences and people I am encountering. The one thing I am reminded of every time I come here is that as Lutheran Christian "missionaries," we are not bringing Jesus to the people of Mexico...Jesus is already here, and I see Him in the faces, hear Him in the voices, and experience Him in the hospitality of the people every time I am here. Like the disciples who encounter Christ on the road to Emmaus on the day of Jesus' resurrection, I hope I can just walk along and listen intently to what Jesus is trying to say to me while I'm here.