Worlds Within Worlds Within Worlds

The class that we are taking right now is World’s Living Religions- focusing specifically on Islam and Animism manifested in Mali. We’ve been on some crazy field trips- seen some crazy things. We’ve met the chief of the most powerful animistic tribe in Mali, talked with the priest of a Sunni Mosque, and shaken hands with the priest in charge of sacrifices to fetishes. Fear and power are so closely linked in the world of fetishes and animism. Ritual and precision govern the religion of Islam. If I had to choose two words for Christianity, I’d camp on grace and love. When I think about my own life though, I’m not sure that these two words would be used to describe the way I live.

This week has been a hard one for the team. I notice that as we spend more time here, we draw more into ourselves. I’ve been reading far too many books. It’s my way of escaping and coping with life. When you read about someone else, you don’t have to think about yourself. It’s silly really. People always talk about going to Africa and holding cute little babies and playing with kids. Well here I am, in Africa, in a village full of kids, and I’m too self absorbed to get out of my cocoon and face the world. I’m thinking too much and not living enough. I want to embrace God, embrace life, embrace his people. But I need to stop saying this and just go do it.

Highlight of the week: slaying The White Rooster. Yup, that’s right. Every morning at the lovely hour of four, this terrible bird sits outside my window and serenades me. Well, last week fried chicken appeared on the menu and three people were chosen to do the deed of killing, plucking, and dismembering the unlucky fowl. I just so happened to be one of them. At first I was a little uncertain- I mean killing isn’t really my style. Then I saw that among the four birds was my buddy- the White Rooster. I didn’t get to kill him, we actually had a fight over who would get to do it. Apparently he visits everyone’s windows in the morning. But I did get to kill his brother. It was quite the experience and all the Malians got a big kick out of watching us.

I’ve been wrestling with a lot of questions this week- about my God, about life, about myself. So instead of facing it, I ran away into a book. I found this in a collection of Puritan Prayers and Devotions. It’s funny how when you don’t have the words or means to formulate your feelings into thoughts someone else who was born worlds apart from you relays it so accurately that it speaks to a part of you that you often forget exists.

“The Valley of Vision”

Lord, high and holy, meek and lowly,
Thou hast brought me to the valley of vision,
Where I live in the depths but see thee in the heights;
Hemmed in by mountains of sin I behold thy glory.

Let me learn by paradox
That the way down is the way up,
That to be low is to be high,
That the broken heart is the healed heart,
That the contrite spirit is the rejoicing spirit,
That the repenting soul is the victorious soul,
That to have nothing is to possess all,
That to bear the cross is to wear the crown,
That to give is to receive,
That the valley is the place of vision.

Lord, in the daytime stars can be seen from deepest wells,
And the deeper the wells the brighter thy stars shine;
Let me find thy light in my darkness,
Thy life in my death
Thy joy in my sorrow,
Thy grace in my sin,
Thy riches in my poverty
Thy glory in my valley.