New Sport

I tried a new sport this weekend. I call it underwater cycling.

This is the rainy season, so after a week of no rain last week, things were brewing for a big storm. It hit on Saturday afternoon when I was riding my bicycle on the other side of town to pick up a couple of things from a market. I spent an hour or so sheltering in the market and enjoying making small talk with the various stall holders. When the rain finally slowed to a light shower, I decided to buy a raincoat (poncho-style...all the rage here!) and head home.

A couple of blocks from the market the main road was completely submerged. In the middle of the road was between 10cm and 50cm of water but towards the edges it was over a metre deep. In the half-metre sections, every time I pedalled my foot and ankle disappeared under the flowing currents. Trucks weren't able to travel much faster than me but they did make bigger waves. As the water splashed up I wondered whether I should have bothered with the 50 cent poncho at all. It was interesting to see that for once the usual hierarchy of transport didn't seem to apply. Motorbike engines got flooded, cars got stuck and I even saw a mighty 4X4 SVU being pushed.... Compared to pushing a dead-weight motor, cycling was a pretty good option.

I managed to avoid any major potholes (sheer luck as I couldn't see anything under the murky water!) and quite enjoyed the adventure of getting home. I don't think that I'll be able to incorporate underwater cycling into a regular routine but it was fun to be out there enjoying the chaos.

In Pol Pot Times

The Khmer Rouge period (1975-79) is commonly spoken of as the "Pol Pot times" in Cambodia. While I have read a little about this period of Cambodia's history, I haven't yet spoken to many Khmer people about it. Part of the reason is that I don't have the linguistic ability to talk about it in Khmer. (I don't mind speaking in clumsy Khmer about the weather, purchases at the market or fashion trends. However, I don't want to insist that a person communicate what may still be painful memories in short, slow phrases that I may or may not understand.) There is also the issue of trust. When the closest relationship ties have been tested, if not broken, I don't expect a person to necessarily trust me by sharing their experiences from these years. So, I don't ask. But still a few people initiate conversations beginning with the phrase,"in Pol Pot times..."

Here are a few examples:

Often when we sit down for an especially delicious me, dad will comment that "in Pol Pot times" there were many days of hunger. He recalls the times when a couple of cups of rice were mixed with 20 litres of water to feed 30 people.

Last week I was studying a text about the Sugar Palm tree (one of the national symbols of Cambodia). It explained the various uses for the palm. For example, the wood may be used to make a small boat, the fruit is used in cooking and the leaves sewn together to build a house. The sweet liquid can be consumed fresh or boiled down to make sugar. The text also described the branches of the palm as having sharp thorns "like the teeth of a saw". This promted my language tutor to add one more use for the Sugar Palm. She said, "in Pol Pot times the branch of the sugar palm was used to cut people's head's off."

One night this week a few of my adopted family members were chatting at the front of the house at dusk. One common thread is to comment if a particularly interesting form of transport goes by. This night it was a Jeep. Dad blurted out, "Sohpeah- (that's me in Khmer) you know what this kind of car is good for?" I shook my head, "No, I don't". Dad motioned with his hands as if he were using a machine gun and said, "Killing Pol Pot."Pol Pot is dead. He knows that. But "the Pol Pot times" still affect people today.

blogging again

I was surprised yesterday to see how many days it has been since I last blogged. So I'm picking up the pen again... perhaps making up for some lost time. Part hobby. Part therapy. We'll see where this journey leads next.

John 9- Teachings from a Blind Beggar

I read about an exercise last week that was conducted in workshops used to train community development workers. The participants were assigned a character and asked to arrange themselves in order from least to most important (in terms of their influence within a community). The characters, all around the same age, included: an achar (Buddhist layman), a disabled fisherman, a village leader, a rich rice farmer, a widow who owned the grocery shop in the village and a widow who rok si (a general term meaning to make money informally).

I read that the exercise was always completely quickly. The resulting order in all four workshops was virtually identical, with the rich rice farmer of most importance, followed by the village leader, the achor, the widow in the grocery shop, the widow who rok si, the disabled fisherman. In every case, the disabled fisherman went immediately to the position of least importance.

The rice farmer was perceived to have power due to his resources and ability to give credit. The village leader had power as a result of his position...and his central role in the village. The achor had power as a "good" person. The widow who owned the grocery shop was positioned next because she was known and therefore trusted by those in the village. The widow who rok si was looked down on because she was traveling in and out of the village. (This was regarded as inappropriate behaviour for a woman.) The disabled fisherman was regarded as least important because of his disability and his assumed lower capacity to earn an income.

I thought about this exercise last weekend when the pastor mentioned the healing of the blind man in John 9 in his message. I wondered about the social ordering in Jesus' day and whether the man born blind would have been considered as "least important". I thought about what this encounter might teach me.

We know that the blind man in John 9 was limited in his capacity to earn an income. The only economic power he had came through recognising his dependence on others. His only option was to beg.

I wonder, though, whether the blind man and the character of the disabled fisherman in Cambodia have one further thing in common- one deeper reason for their powerlessness? The question the disciples asked Jesus is revealing, "Why was this man born blind? Was it a result of his own sins or those of his parents?" In Cambodia the question might be phrased, "Whose bad karma made this man disabled? Which life- this one or past- accounts for his suffering today?" I think both the blind man and the fisherman are rejected by people because they are already seen as having been cursed by the gods.

Jesus tells the disciples that they have misjudged the situation entirely. "He was born blind so the power of God could be seen in him." In the first miracle, Jesus makes some mud, puts in on the blind man's eyes and tells him to wash in the pool of Siloam. The man does and comes back seeing. But John 9 is more than a miracle of healing. It is a miracle of empowerment.

My translation (New Living) introduces the second miracle with a rather casual "...as it happened, Jesus healed the man on the Sabbath." This caused a deep division amongst the Pharisees as to whether Jesus was really sent by God. Their essential question was, "would a man sent by God challenge the ways we have interpreted God's rules?" I'm challenged by these same things. Would God dare to work in ways that I had previously not thought likely? Does my view of God allow for the unexpected, the unpredictable...things that may even cause offense?

The blind man is hauled before the Pharisees to give an account of what has just happened. It is interesting to see the man become increasingly bold. He begins with a simple retelling of the account. He finishes by teaching the Teachers. The blind beggar becomes more than an object of pity. He has a story. He speaks it out. He interprets what has happened to him. He even dares to teach.

I have to admit that I like his message: "God...is ready to hear those who worship him and do his will... if this man were not from God, he couldn't do it." This guy teaches me that God is close. God is ready to hear. God is wanting to engage with the poor and the powerless. God is waiting to respond to a heart that loves and a spirit that is surrendered.

The source of both of these miracles is an encounter with God through Jesus.

Some (perhaps most) of the Pharisees didn't get it. They seemed to view power as a zero-sum equation. Let me explain. The Pharisees had power due to their rank, their place in religious ceremonies and their teaching influence. If someone from a lower rank was elevated, they couldn't accept it. ("Do you dare teach us?") The Pharisees could not affirm the empowerment of the blind man without seeing it as a threat to their own. Therefore, they couldn't accept the first miracle of healing, nor hear the man's teaching. They remained blind by their narrow views of how God is supposed to work and they try cover the truth of God's miracle with their curses, "Sinner!"

Jesus had no such hassles. His power was from God and was therefore unlimited. He was able to freely heal and miraculously empower others'. When the Pharisees try to end the matter by throwing the man out of the synagogue, Jesus goes to find him again. Jesus felt no threat to his power by empowering others.

It is tempting for me to finish here- with Jesus as the rightful hero and me passively applauding. But I can't. For we who follow Christ have been charged with continuing His work. Coming back to the disabled fisherman again, we don't know whether he lacked physical resources. "Give the man a fish?" Perhaps he had a dozen. "Teach a man to fish?" He already could. "Give him the tools to fish with?" All very important. "And preach the good news." Huh?

Yep. Preach the good news that Jesus stops in his steps for people ranked Of Least Importance. Preach the good news that while Respected Teachers might shower curses on a man who speaks the truth and throw him out of the temple, Jesus seeks him out again. Preach the good news that Jesus heals and empowers.

God lifts the lonely, the poor, the beggars, the outcasts. And we have the power to do as Jesus did- to turn things upside down if that is what it takes to see the least lifted to their rightful place.

I need to remember that this is not dependent upon me having been given Very Important Titles of power by other people (whether Pastor, Teacher, Good Person, Minister, Elder, Missionary, Prophet...) This power simply comes from being in relationship with God and being open to God touching others through the Spirit of Jesus.

I need to remember that power is not a zero-sum equation. When the poor teach me I want to hear and say, "Yes, Lord...I believe."

back to school

Think for a moment about the subject you most disliked in high school. Can you remember back that far? Maybe there was one subject that you never really connected with? Maybe a class in which you never quite performed in the way you wanted to? One teacher that you just didn't get on with? Maybe some subject that didn't ever capture your interest.

Arguably, my best failed subject in high school was Japanese. I didn't mind it at first. In Year 8 we had a teacher who did games, posters, drawings, objects, role plays and lots of repetition. I remember being engaged in learning during her class and not having to do much homework to keep up. Year 9 was different. A new teacher. I was bored. We had five people sitting at our cluster of desks so I figured if there were 10 words for homework why didn't we just learn 2 words each and collaborate for the regular quizzes? I faithfully learned my 2 words per lesson and expected the same diligence from my peers. This worked quite smoothly until the end-term exams when our group was separated. We were expected to complete the paper individually. I remembered a little, guessed some more and ended up with a score in the high thirties (36% I think).

Today isn't the first time I have debriefed from this experience. I was dragged out of another class not long after for a meeting with the school counsellor. She wanted to know why I was doing so well in some subjects and so poorly in others. Japanese, for example... Was I having any emotional struggles? No. Were there any problems at home? No. The questions continued with long reflective pauses followed by single word answers. Finally I said, "Maybe there is a reason for my difficult in language learning." The counsellor perked up. She leaned forward in her chair. I thought her attempted empathy was as obvious as the pattern on her K-Mart polyester blouse. I continued, "I think you should know that I've just recently found out....I'm not Japanese." Our session was quickly dropped and at the end of the year, so was Japanese.

I'm fairly sure there's no Khmer blood in me either but this time there is a reason for me learning the language. I try to follow my Year 8 teacher's example sometimes and play-learn. I try to make my Year 9 teacher happy by learning some vocab. I'm not naturally brilliant at it and sometimes it feels like I suck completely but I'm having a jolly good crack at this work of learning Khmer. If it gets to the stage where I'm summoned before the school counsellor again...I'll let you know.

No Dramas

Imagine for a moment you are a mum with a full-time job and three teenaged children. You also have two guests staying in your home- one of whom is a young girl who has just recently lost both of her parents. It is 6:30am. You have to be out of the house in half an hour. You have just stepped under the shower only to realise.... no shampoo.

Such a scenario might be the start of a bad day somewhere in Sydney. This morning "mum" simply called out to dad from the bathroom. "Dad" picked up a small note (about 10 cents US) and walked to the front door. Dressed only in a pair of shorts, he called across the road, "Seller, seller! We need some shampoo!" Happily, I was already dressed, so I saved dad from having to do the walk of shame in his boxers.... I took the 10 steps or so across the street, picked up the shampoo with change, gave it to dad and he passed it onto mum.

...Just one of those easy things about living in my street.