Steve
Whitney
FTE Ministry
Fellowship Project Report
Original Version: August 30, 2000
This Version:
July 26, 2001
(Click any picture to see a full-size version.)
My Fund for Theological Education Ministry Fellowship project was to spend
seven weeks attending classes and staying with a family in Cuernavaca, Morelos,
Mexico to study Spanish at the Cemanahuac
school, learn about Mexican culture, and learn about the church in Mexico.
I had planned to read quite a list of books before I left, but I only read one
of them, Paolo Freire’s Pedagogy
of the Oppressed. I had underestimated my need to rest and get non-school
things done after the semester ended, and I found it next to impossible to do
serious reading in English while playing catch-up in Spanish. Also, I had hoped
to do some volunteer work with a church while in Mexico, but that too was unrealistic,
given the amount of energy I needed just to
keep up with the language study. Other than those two differences, things went
very much according to plan. In addition to the normal classes, I was
able to attend Spanish grammar clinics after class for the first few weeks,
and for the last three weeks, the school provided a special class on religious
vocabulary which ended up being a Spanish preaching and theology class! My wife
Eleanor and I were able to visit several important archaeological sites, two
small villages, several museums and cultural sites, and the Ballet
Folklorico (the national Mexican dance troupe). On the cultural
side, we visited some of Eleanor’s distant relatives in Mexico City (where
we spoke only Spanish), an orphanage, and three different churches. Finally,
we attended weekly lectures on Mexican history and several other lectures on
such topics as politics, current events, poverty in Mexico, and Mexican cooking
and music.
I learned a number of interesting things about myself in Mexico. The
most obvious one is that I look really different from most of the men
in Mexico. For starters, I seemed to be about a foot taller than the average
height. That meant that I couldn’t stand up in the buses and the
bus seats were too close together for me to fit my knees in. Then I have
light hair and green eyes. Next my clothes were different and I didn’t
wear my hair slicked back like 90% of the men we saw. That and not being
fluent in Spanish led to lots of funny looks when I walked by or got on the
bus. Also, some people smirked at me
when I tried to communicate with them. I’ve been in situations where
I’m in the minority before, but this was every hour of every day no matter
where I went (except the school where English-speaking Americans were plentiful).
It started to affect me. After awhile, I even began to expect it.
I tried to go out and buy a typical shirt, stop wearing shorts, speak only Spanish
in public, and even speak more quietly in order to match the social norms.
But I was stuck with my height and skin color. People were simply going
to stare at me so I began to expect to be stared at. There was literally
nothing I could do. Sometimes I found myself wondering if people were
looking at me because of something I did wrong or just how I look. That
experience helped me to understand better experiences that ethnic-minority friends
have described to me. It’s something I need to think more about.
On the other side, I have had to examine the way that I “evaluate” others when I meet them. Especially during the visit to Eleanor’s relatives, I found myself unable to express who I am to people. Eleanor and I couldn’t even communicate with each other clearly in Spanish. It really felt like I was wearing a paper bag over my head. I could neither know nor be known beneath the bag. I couldn’t make jokes or astute observations. I couldn’t add something meaningful to a conversation unless I could figure out how to fit the linguistic tools that I had into something similar to the idea I wanted to express. Given that, I plan to change how I view others. When I meet people who don’t speak English well, I need to remember the paper bag and be careful not to let that cause me to sell them short. I simply can’t see the full extent of their gifts and abilities. I also believe that I’ll be able to empathize better with people trying to learn English in the United States.
While not a truly new revelation, I saw another facet of a weakness of mine
– the need to be in control. While in Mexico, Eleanor and I couldn’t
decide when to eat, what to eat, or what music we’d listen to (if any).
I couldn’t play the piano or guitar. I couldn’t turn on the
television to shut my mind down – everything was in Spanish! Eleanor
and I could only go places that we could figure out how to get to by bus, and
there was no route map. I also couldn’t express myself precisely
enough to express some needs or get certain kinds of information (like how to
get somewhere on the bus). I really missed my self-determination.
I realize that the kind of freedom we have in the United States is the result
of being a part of the privileged middle class. The people we consider
poor in the U.S. are considered middle-class in Mexico, and the people we consider
middle-class in the United States would be considered rich in Mexico.
In fact Eleanor and I realized that we are very rich by Mexico and world standards.
Mexico does have people that we would consider rich in the United States, but
the number of poor and extremely poor people is very high. 
Most
people didn’t have the option that Eleanor and I had to go to the movies
at Cinemex, the modern 12-screen megaplex (even on half price Wednesday when
admission was about $2.50 US) – that costs almost the average day’s
wage. Few people have private automobiles, and the vast majority of cars
were very old – much older than the car we just got rid of for being unreliable.
I saw many Ford Mavericks like the old 1974 model I had in high school - a cherry
red one is pictured here. Since labor is cheap and materials are expensive,
keeping old cars running just makes sense.
Since kids can't afford to go to the movies or to blow money on fast food (McDonald's was one of the more expensive places to eat) and because labor is cheap, there's lots of live entertainment in El Centro and the Zocalo. We frequently heard live music or saw clown or puppet shows. Kids in Mexico love clowns (or payasos). Inexpensive treats such as corn on the cob (or elote) - with your choice of mayonnaise, cheese, chilies or all three - and snow cones are always available from street venders downtown.
We learned a great deal about people in Mexico while living with them. As in the States, there are no hard and fast rules, but people in Mexico seemed much more willing to share their experiences, their limited money, and their possessions. Many students told us stories about being included in family gatherings and celebrations of the families they stayed with. Sadly, as in the United States, those with the least to give were the most generous. Those who had the most feared losing it and grasped it tightly.
An example of someone with little wealth but much to offer was one of our Spanish teachers, Maria Luisa, who invited us to attend the Iglesia Cristiana (literally “Christian Church”). In Mexico, there seem to be “Catholics” and “Christians.” Her church was a non-denominational Christian church. We had already attended a mass at the Cathedral of Cuernavaca and found it to be similar to the Roman Catholic Mass in the United States, though the reverence to the bishop was more than I expected - everyone bowed to him as he processed up the center aisle. This church, on the other hand, was very different. To begin with, it wasn’t in a grand building. The church was in an unincorporated rural area of Morelos. It was in a concrete block shell of a building with a corrugated fiberglass roof to keep most of the rain out and a small raised platform in the front. There were probably upwards of 60 people in the church (this was the new afternoon worship), all sitting in resin patio chairs on the dirt floor, and it was hot in there. The man who led the music kept reminding us that God was more powerful than the heat. ¿Amén? After the opening praise music, complete with children dancing with purple streamers, people knelt on the dirt floor in their church clothes to confess their sins to God, weep, and beg forgiveness. I was humbled. What did these people in this village have to confess? Then when it came time to welcome people who were visiting or attending for the first time, they had each visitor stand up and introduce him or herself. Next every person in the church came over to welcome each visitor - every person, including the small children. They all wished us welcome or God’s blessing: ¡Dios te bendiga! I could go on and on, but suffice it to say that I was very impressed and moved. (We felt it would be rude to take a camera when we had been invited to that church as guests so we have no pictures to share.)
My encounters with Christians in Mexico have altered my theology. The Protestant churches I visited were all theologically “conservative,” emphasizing the importance of a personal relationship with God and the comfort of God's love. However, I wonder what a “liberal” church - one that encourages service from its members and personal responsibility for societal issues - would look like in a place where people have very little money or time to give. Does a theologically liberal church even make sense there? I continue to struggle with the labels of liberal and conservative theology, believing that the two ideas are compatible and, in fact, both necessary. (Pictured is the Presbyterian Church I visited, Iglesia Presbiteriana Filadelfia.)
Perhaps more striking is the change in my understanding of God and human suffering. Two of my instructors explained to me that God did things in their lives to cause suffering in order to achieve a greater good. The most striking example was the story of a young single woman who got pregnant. Because of her father’s shame, she bound her stomach to try to hide the pregnancy and the child was born with a number of problems. The baby died after a few days. Martha (left) believes that God blessed the young woman by taking her child. She couldn’t afford the child, the family wasn’t supportive, and the child was ill. “Los hijos son prestados” (the children are lent [to us]), she said. Isn’t it better that the baby be in heaven with God? I would have dismissed such an idea out of hand after my systematic theology courses. “God doesn’t cause things like that, but God can work through such tragedies when they happen.” But as an observer in someone else’s culture, I simply listened. Now, I find myself wondering, “Who am I to decide what is good for someone and what isn’t? Why couldn’t God do something that looks wrong to us for our greater good? Who am I to tell the potter not to break a piece of me off when that’s necessary to complete the vessel?” This will definitely require further thought.
I also learned a great deal about excellence in ministry. Very little of it came from the large church establishment, which seemed to be a negative influence on the people. The examples of excellence in ministry that I can learn from came from lay people who shared their faith with me without reservation, from Maria Luisa who invited us to her church and then rode the bus for forty minutes in each direction with her young daughter to come and meet us to show us where the church was, from a cleaning woman who asked me about how to interpret the Bible wanting to get closer to God, and a whole room full of people who welcomed Eleanor and me to their church despite the abominable way most of the American students seem to behave in Cuernavaca, lending credence to stories of rich, rude Americans.
Emilio Álvarez (pictured to the left), my Spanish teacher for a week, has been the head of the Mexican Pentecostal church for three Mexican states and has taught at the Mexican equivalent of a United States seminary, preparing future pastors. He shared with me much of his philosophy of ministry and pastoral care as well as his view of Mexican culture. The story of his own ministry was an inspiration to me, including the amazing and Spirit-filled mission work he has done to bring the gospel to those who have never heard it. It must have been the grace of God that allowed us to come together. The week that I spent with Emilio was transformational for me.
Finally, this experience will definitely change the future course of my seminary education. I started out knowing very little Spanish. While I can now communicate in a very basic way, I need much more work to be able to communicate complex ideas, to understand full-speed speech, or to preach in Spanish. This trip has confirmed my passion for ministry with people from Latin America. I plan to try to find volunteer opportunities during this school year that will allow me to practice and improve my Spanish, to start a Spanish-speaking table at our community lunch once a week, and potentially, depending on how those things go, to find an internship with a bilingual church – as long as I don’t have to sacrifice the opportunity to develop the basic ministry skills that I would learn in an English-speaking church. (Note: I didn't end up doing a bilingual internship, but having some ability to speak Spanish has been great for my ministry in the church, in the hosipital, and in the community. I did, however get a chance to do some work in a Spanish-speaking church the next summer.)
Read my report from the next year's trip.
Share your feedback, experience, or comments on the Mexico trip report in the guest book
This page was last updated on 07/26/01 .
