"The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he did not exist." So says Verbal Kint in the movie The Usual Suspects. Events in Athens, Georgia over the weekend have me thinking about the existence of Satan again.
I spent the better part of six years in Athens from 1976-1982 getting an ABJ in Journalism and a Master of Marketing Research (MMR) degree in the very department from which George Zinkhan had taught since 1994. I've met George several times at various events there, including board meetings for the MMR program. There was to be a board meeting this week that I was scheduled to attend. Now it has been cancelled.
For the most part the media descriptions of Dr. Zinkhan are accurate relative to my experience. Introverted, socially awkward, eccentric, brilliant, disheveled in appearance, odd in behavior. He is exactly the kind of person that, when something like this happens, people say, "Oh, yeah, something was not right with that guy."
But there is a big difference between being eccentric and killing three people in cold blood.
Which makes me wonder for the umpteenth time: does Satan really exist? Because it seems to me at times like this that there is something that enters a person and tells them that some outrageous, barbaric act is really something that is going to help them make things better or set things right. Maybe that's what happened to Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold. Jeffrey Dahmer. It's a long list.
Sometimes I wonder if we don't hide behind science -- especially psychology -- to explain the supernatural. There's no question in my mind that science and in particular psychology are more good than bad. But I think we go too far sometimes when we think we can explain everything from the weather and climate to why events like this murder happen. It can become a vain attempt to wrap our arms around the immensity that is God, and our arms will never be long enough.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Peter 2.0
A while back I wrote about Peter and his incredible metamorphosis over the time from when Jesus called him to his death in Rome years later. Before the Resurrection, we have a number of incidents featuring Peter in a none-too-complimentary light:
- Babbling at the Transfiguration
- Fearfully sinking as Jesus walked on the water
- Humbly refusing to let Jesus wash his feet
- Boastfully declaring he would lay down his life for Jesus at the Last Supper
- Vindictively cutting off the ear of the High Priest's slave
- Later that night declaring three times that he didn't even know Jesus
- Boldly condemning the House of Israel and people of Jerusalem on the day of Pentecost for Jesus' death, and calling them to repentance, baptism, and conversion. The people he called out were the same people the disciples tried to lock out in the upper room ("for fear of the Jews").
- Curing the cripple at the Temple in Jesus' name
- Again condemning the children of Israel, and calling them to conversion
- Arrested by the Sadducees, questioned by "their leaders, elders, and scribes...Annas the high priest, Caiaphas, John, Alexander, and all who were of the high-priestly class." There he boldy testifies to the Risen Christ and forgiveness of sins through Him.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Burning Hearts
Two months ago I started this blog by explaining its name, Emmaus Road, in a post that touched on the Gospel story of the apostles' encounter with the Risen Christ while walking on the Road to Emmaus. That same story is split between yesterday's and today's Gospel readings.
As I noted then, so often we do not recognize Christ's presence at times in our lives, especially times of trial or hardship until those times are over. Yet if we are attuned to the life of the spirit, we have the ability to access Christ's presence anytime, anywhere.
I was reminded last night of what you might call the Emmaus effect -- not being cognizant of how powerfully God is acting and teaching and loving us in our lives until something or someone opens our eyes, and we suddenly see how His works in a string of events has led you to a new and wonderful place.
Last night's eye-opener was re-reading a Valentine card from Pat that I have kept on my dresser, coincidentally since just before I started this blog. That opened my mind to wonderful changes three areas in my life, ranging from the trivial to the critically important, that have occurred recently and over a period of time.
On the trivial side, last year at this time I had just had my tennis rating bumped to 3.5 from 3.0, which was great...except that I lost every single USTA match I had in the Men's and Senior Men's league. All of them. 0 for about 12. We're not talking blowouts either -- about half went to the third set tiebreaker. Choking.
Now I'm not super-competitive, but a losing streak like that grinds you down. And then I only won one match over the summer. So I have done some soul-searching about why I play and how I play, as well as my technique. Mostly I realized that when you've been kicked like that over an extended period, you don't have anything to prove any more, nor do you have anything to lose. So you could say I'm a lot more loose.
So far this year I'm 3-1. So I thank God I am out of the slump. I've watched two different teams choke against my partner and I the way I choked last year. I am empathetic, but most of all I am thankful to be watching it happen to the other guy for a change. I can see now that my losing streak led directly to my new found winning ways, because it changed my heart, attitude, and approach.
The next area was in business, where until recently it had been about six months since I won a new piece of business. I coasted for a while on stuff already in the shop, but through it all there were two huge studies that were approved then cancelled, another even bigger one that we were a finalist for -- then that project was cancelled. We also had a promising client that we just couldn't seem to get anything going with. This also grinds you down -- even worse, because in our company if there's no work there's no income.
Now I've won two large projects in two weeks, and I have two others that are 90%+ probabilities. Looking back, that tough period laid the groundwork for these new successes in numerous ways, and set up our little company for continued prosperity even after this work is finished. More importantly I have a renewed sense of how much every good material thing -- work, projects, income -- is such a gift from God. No matter how smart I am or how hard I work, without God's love and grace and gifts I will not be successful.
Last but most importantly, the card reminded me instantly of perhaps the greatest gift I've been given, and that is my wife, Pat. About eight years ago, we went through a very difficult time in our relationship, serious enough that I questioned whether we really had a future together. It did not look promising.
During that period I prayed as hard as I knew how, and it was probably as close as I'll ever come to knowing what Christ went through the night before he died. I prayed for the survival of our marriage. I prayed for God to change me. In fact I prayed for God to break my heart of stone, and for the first time in my life I prayed that His will for me be done. I prayed and it scared me to death.
My prayers were answered in every sense -- not in a lightning-bolt-from-heaven way, but in an Emmaus Road kind of way. I saw signs along the way, and at times my heart was burning inside me, even though I didn't understand what was happening. He changed me. He changed us.
The note inside the Valentine's card said (in part), "I think things are the best they've ever been between the two of us, and I think it's going to continue that way, too." I couldn't agree more, but last night the thought struck me that in the fall of 2001 I could not have imagined a day in the future when that would be true.
And it occurs to me now that late in the day on the first Good Friday, none of the apostles could imagine a day when they would see Jesus alive again. So that was their state of mind as Cleopas and the other disciple walked along the road to Emmaus "conversing and debating" about the events of the last three days. Then Jesus came to them, not in a lightning-bolt-from-heaven way, but in an Emmaus Road kind of way, and with burning hearts "he was made known to them in the breaking of the bread."
As I noted then, so often we do not recognize Christ's presence at times in our lives, especially times of trial or hardship until those times are over. Yet if we are attuned to the life of the spirit, we have the ability to access Christ's presence anytime, anywhere.
I was reminded last night of what you might call the Emmaus effect -- not being cognizant of how powerfully God is acting and teaching and loving us in our lives until something or someone opens our eyes, and we suddenly see how His works in a string of events has led you to a new and wonderful place.
Last night's eye-opener was re-reading a Valentine card from Pat that I have kept on my dresser, coincidentally since just before I started this blog. That opened my mind to wonderful changes three areas in my life, ranging from the trivial to the critically important, that have occurred recently and over a period of time.
On the trivial side, last year at this time I had just had my tennis rating bumped to 3.5 from 3.0, which was great...except that I lost every single USTA match I had in the Men's and Senior Men's league. All of them. 0 for about 12. We're not talking blowouts either -- about half went to the third set tiebreaker. Choking.
Now I'm not super-competitive, but a losing streak like that grinds you down. And then I only won one match over the summer. So I have done some soul-searching about why I play and how I play, as well as my technique. Mostly I realized that when you've been kicked like that over an extended period, you don't have anything to prove any more, nor do you have anything to lose. So you could say I'm a lot more loose.
So far this year I'm 3-1. So I thank God I am out of the slump. I've watched two different teams choke against my partner and I the way I choked last year. I am empathetic, but most of all I am thankful to be watching it happen to the other guy for a change. I can see now that my losing streak led directly to my new found winning ways, because it changed my heart, attitude, and approach.
The next area was in business, where until recently it had been about six months since I won a new piece of business. I coasted for a while on stuff already in the shop, but through it all there were two huge studies that were approved then cancelled, another even bigger one that we were a finalist for -- then that project was cancelled. We also had a promising client that we just couldn't seem to get anything going with. This also grinds you down -- even worse, because in our company if there's no work there's no income.
Now I've won two large projects in two weeks, and I have two others that are 90%+ probabilities. Looking back, that tough period laid the groundwork for these new successes in numerous ways, and set up our little company for continued prosperity even after this work is finished. More importantly I have a renewed sense of how much every good material thing -- work, projects, income -- is such a gift from God. No matter how smart I am or how hard I work, without God's love and grace and gifts I will not be successful.
Last but most importantly, the card reminded me instantly of perhaps the greatest gift I've been given, and that is my wife, Pat. About eight years ago, we went through a very difficult time in our relationship, serious enough that I questioned whether we really had a future together. It did not look promising.
During that period I prayed as hard as I knew how, and it was probably as close as I'll ever come to knowing what Christ went through the night before he died. I prayed for the survival of our marriage. I prayed for God to change me. In fact I prayed for God to break my heart of stone, and for the first time in my life I prayed that His will for me be done. I prayed and it scared me to death.
My prayers were answered in every sense -- not in a lightning-bolt-from-heaven way, but in an Emmaus Road kind of way. I saw signs along the way, and at times my heart was burning inside me, even though I didn't understand what was happening. He changed me. He changed us.
The note inside the Valentine's card said (in part), "I think things are the best they've ever been between the two of us, and I think it's going to continue that way, too." I couldn't agree more, but last night the thought struck me that in the fall of 2001 I could not have imagined a day in the future when that would be true.
And it occurs to me now that late in the day on the first Good Friday, none of the apostles could imagine a day when they would see Jesus alive again. So that was their state of mind as Cleopas and the other disciple walked along the road to Emmaus "conversing and debating" about the events of the last three days. Then Jesus came to them, not in a lightning-bolt-from-heaven way, but in an Emmaus Road kind of way, and with burning hearts "he was made known to them in the breaking of the bread."
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Catching Up
Well Holy Week has flown by, and now it's afternoon on Easter Sunday. Early in the week I had visions of lots to write about, but life got in the way as it has an annoying habit of doing sometimes. It's all good though -- much to be thankful for, and much to think about.
Wednesday night we attended a Seder Supper at the home of Jim & Abby Donnelly. This is a long-standing tradition with them, and we were blessed to be a part of it this year for the first time. Jim is Catholic and Abby is Jewish, and so they celebrate the Seder with a somewhat ecumenical flair, recognizing both faith traditions while following perhaps the longest standing rituals in human history. According to our friends at Wikipedia:
There were two things in particular I was struck by during the evening. One is just how rich the tradition and the ritual are, full of history and symbolism, and requiring the full participation of every family member and guest. While I was familiar with the Bible story of the Passover and the history around it, I did not realize how deeply interwoven the ideas of liberation and freedom for all people were into the fabric of the tradition.
The other was the immense respect Jim and Abby show for each other's faith tradition and for each other. I was touched by the whole way they handled the connection between Judaism and Christianity, because the Seder is one of the deepest connections between the two faiths. The Last Supper was a Passover Seder Supper, and I see now that in Christ's celebration of liberation in the Seder he was also celebration our liberation from sin through His death and Resurrection.
Thursday night I attended Holy Thursday Mass at St. Paul's. Relative to some I have seen, it was a relatively stripped-down version with no foot washing. And yet hearing the story of Jesus washing the feet of the disciples was moving to me in a new way. I'm still working on the idea and practice of following Christ through serving others. It does not come easily or naturally to me, but I'm working on it. Maybe I should read that story more often.
Pat and I then left for our cabin in Ashe County right after Mass. We have guests using the cabin the following weekend, and it was badly in need of spring cleaning. Friday morning, though, I had an opportunity to pray outside on the deck before the rain came. For me, that is the best place on earth to pray (other than maybe St. Francis Springs) and it was wonderful.
We passed Saturday and Sunday cleaning and doing errands, enjoying each other's company and a few glasses of wine along the way. Another of my favorite things at the cabin is enjoying a good rain storm. The way our cabin is built you can hear every single rain drop, and the effect when the tempo of the rain is just right can be magical, especially if you listen to a good rain song like "Sit & Listen to the Rain" by Whiskeytown or "Riders on the Storm" by The Doors. We listened to both.
This morning we were up and out of there by 9 AM so I could make it back to lector at the 12:00 Easter Mass. More later...almost time for dinner with the family, and I have preparations to make.
Have a happy and blessed Easter season!
Wednesday night we attended a Seder Supper at the home of Jim & Abby Donnelly. This is a long-standing tradition with them, and we were blessed to be a part of it this year for the first time. Jim is Catholic and Abby is Jewish, and so they celebrate the Seder with a somewhat ecumenical flair, recognizing both faith traditions while following perhaps the longest standing rituals in human history. According to our friends at Wikipedia:
Families and friends gather around the table on the nights of Passover to read one of the many versions of the Haggadah, the story of the Israelite exodus from Egypt. Seder customs include drinking of four cups of wine, eating matza and partaking of symbolic foods placed on the Passover Seder Plate. With a Haggadah serving as a guide, the Seder is performed in much the same way all over the world.I had attended one Seder, and not a very Jewish one, at the Catholic Center at the University of Georgia while I was in school there...25+ years ago. While not a family event in the strictest sense (the Donnelly's had invited 15-20 friends...I didn't count), it was nonetheless an awesome celebration. The Donnelly's are both gracious hosts and patient teachers.The Seder is integral to Jewish faith and identity. If not for the Exodus, as explained in the Haggadah, the Jewish people would still be slaves in Egypt. Therefore, the Seder is an occasion for praise and thanksgiving and for re-dedication to the idea of liberation. The Seder goes on until late at night, with the participants reading the Haggadah, studying the meaning of various passages, and singing special Passover songs.
The Seder is an intergenerational family ritual. While many Jewish holidays revolve around the synagogue, the Seder is conducted in the family home...It is customary to invite guests, especially strangers and the needy...The Seder as family-based ritual is derived from a verse in the Bible: Vehigadta levincha' bayom hahu leymor ba'avur zeh asah Adonay li betzeyti miMitzrayim - "And you shall tell it to your son on that day, saying, 'Because of this God did for me when He took me out of Egypt'" (Exodus 13:8). The words and rituals of the Seder are a primary vehicle for the transmission of the Jewish faith from grandparent to child, and from one generation to the next.
There were two things in particular I was struck by during the evening. One is just how rich the tradition and the ritual are, full of history and symbolism, and requiring the full participation of every family member and guest. While I was familiar with the Bible story of the Passover and the history around it, I did not realize how deeply interwoven the ideas of liberation and freedom for all people were into the fabric of the tradition.
The other was the immense respect Jim and Abby show for each other's faith tradition and for each other. I was touched by the whole way they handled the connection between Judaism and Christianity, because the Seder is one of the deepest connections between the two faiths. The Last Supper was a Passover Seder Supper, and I see now that in Christ's celebration of liberation in the Seder he was also celebration our liberation from sin through His death and Resurrection.
Thursday night I attended Holy Thursday Mass at St. Paul's. Relative to some I have seen, it was a relatively stripped-down version with no foot washing. And yet hearing the story of Jesus washing the feet of the disciples was moving to me in a new way. I'm still working on the idea and practice of following Christ through serving others. It does not come easily or naturally to me, but I'm working on it. Maybe I should read that story more often.
Pat and I then left for our cabin in Ashe County right after Mass. We have guests using the cabin the following weekend, and it was badly in need of spring cleaning. Friday morning, though, I had an opportunity to pray outside on the deck before the rain came. For me, that is the best place on earth to pray (other than maybe St. Francis Springs) and it was wonderful.
We passed Saturday and Sunday cleaning and doing errands, enjoying each other's company and a few glasses of wine along the way. Another of my favorite things at the cabin is enjoying a good rain storm. The way our cabin is built you can hear every single rain drop, and the effect when the tempo of the rain is just right can be magical, especially if you listen to a good rain song like "Sit & Listen to the Rain" by Whiskeytown or "Riders on the Storm" by The Doors. We listened to both.
This morning we were up and out of there by 9 AM so I could make it back to lector at the 12:00 Easter Mass. More later...almost time for dinner with the family, and I have preparations to make.
Have a happy and blessed Easter season!
Friday, April 10, 2009
Holy Week, Part 1
It's been a busy Holy Week already.
Wednesday afternoon I attended the 12:10 Mass at the Franciscan Center in downtown Greensboro. I had not been to Mass there since last Lent, but it was a joy as always. I estimated there were about 100 people crammed into the little storefront at 215 N. Greene Street. What a tight little community it is, composed of people I imagine from every parish in Greensboro. I saw a number that I recognized from St. Paul's, including Sue Fullam from the Honduras trip and my friend Maureen Musci who sits in our little "neighborhood" at 5 PM Sunday Mass. At communion I noticed there were quite a few non-Catholics as well who received a blessing in lieu of communion.
As I looked over the community, it struck me as different somehow. There were many elderly people, which is not unusual for a daily Mass, but also a number who were sick or crippled, people from the streets, well-to-do people and professionals. Not many young people -- everybody here had some serious mileage on them. But I could not help but be struck by the atmosphere of unusual love and tolerance and trust and welcome.
Fr. Louie Canino celebrated the Mass as usual, and in truth most of these people come here for him, both because he loves each one of us so much, and because he feeds us spiritually -- a veritable banquet. Each Wednesday Fr. Louie travels to Greensboro from the St. Francis Springs Prayer Center in Stoneville just to celebrate this Mass.
Wednesday's Gospel centered around Matthew's account of Judas' betrayal of Jesus. In his homily Fr. Louie asked the community to share any times in their lives when they had suffered a great hurt. I was astounded by the response. Over the next ten minutes or so perhaps 20-25 different people shared the gravest hurts of their lives, the kinds of things people only share with family and close friends. "The death of my husband," "my son's addiction to drugs," "my husband's battle with PTSD," "the death of my son," "betrayal by a trusted friend," "the death of my wife"...and on and on. It was a litany of human suffering.
Fr. Louie then related their suffering that Jesus must have felt during his Passion. Not just the physical suffering, which was immense, but emotional hurt of His betrayal and denial by His disciples, and the fact that he was left to suffer these things utterly abandoned. It's hard to miss the physical suffering in the accounts of the Passion, but I had never considered how much greater was the emotional hurt.
Christ gave us an example of how to process this kind of hurt, Fr. Louie said:
Wednesday afternoon I attended the 12:10 Mass at the Franciscan Center in downtown Greensboro. I had not been to Mass there since last Lent, but it was a joy as always. I estimated there were about 100 people crammed into the little storefront at 215 N. Greene Street. What a tight little community it is, composed of people I imagine from every parish in Greensboro. I saw a number that I recognized from St. Paul's, including Sue Fullam from the Honduras trip and my friend Maureen Musci who sits in our little "neighborhood" at 5 PM Sunday Mass. At communion I noticed there were quite a few non-Catholics as well who received a blessing in lieu of communion.
As I looked over the community, it struck me as different somehow. There were many elderly people, which is not unusual for a daily Mass, but also a number who were sick or crippled, people from the streets, well-to-do people and professionals. Not many young people -- everybody here had some serious mileage on them. But I could not help but be struck by the atmosphere of unusual love and tolerance and trust and welcome.
Fr. Louie Canino celebrated the Mass as usual, and in truth most of these people come here for him, both because he loves each one of us so much, and because he feeds us spiritually -- a veritable banquet. Each Wednesday Fr. Louie travels to Greensboro from the St. Francis Springs Prayer Center in Stoneville just to celebrate this Mass.
Wednesday's Gospel centered around Matthew's account of Judas' betrayal of Jesus. In his homily Fr. Louie asked the community to share any times in their lives when they had suffered a great hurt. I was astounded by the response. Over the next ten minutes or so perhaps 20-25 different people shared the gravest hurts of their lives, the kinds of things people only share with family and close friends. "The death of my husband," "my son's addiction to drugs," "my husband's battle with PTSD," "the death of my son," "betrayal by a trusted friend," "the death of my wife"...and on and on. It was a litany of human suffering.
Fr. Louie then related their suffering that Jesus must have felt during his Passion. Not just the physical suffering, which was immense, but emotional hurt of His betrayal and denial by His disciples, and the fact that he was left to suffer these things utterly abandoned. It's hard to miss the physical suffering in the accounts of the Passion, but I had never considered how much greater was the emotional hurt.
Christ gave us an example of how to process this kind of hurt, Fr. Louie said:
- First you have to own it -- not gloss over it or deny it, but truly own it.
- Then you have to be angry. While we often think of anger as bad or negative, it's OK to be angry about something that really is bad. It's healthy and healing.
- After that you must grieve for what's been lost.
- Finally you must make it redemptive -- you have to find a way to bring forth goodness and growth from your hurt in order to move forward again.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Peter
I think that of all the saints and various characters in the Bible, Peter is the one with whom I identify the most. That is not quite the same as saying he is my favorite, just that he is like me in some important ways.
For in Peter we have the Patron Saint of the Enneagram Six (a counterphobic one at that), a man whose "issues" from a psychoanalytic perspective always seem to revolve around fear vs. courage (see walking on water) and disbelief vs. faith. The story of his personal growth over the course of the gospels, and especially from the Passion of Christ through his death in Rome, is truly inspiring to me. The same Peter who denied Christ three times is transformed by the experience of Jesus' death and resurrection from a blustery, boastful, fearful man to one animated and made fearless by intimate knowledge of the Risen Christ.
In Tuesday's gospel, Peter makes a boast that will break his heart (and Jesus') in the early morning hours of Good Friday:
Peter in one brief encounter ricochets between refusal to let Christ wash his feet to wanting Him to wash him all over. He is our stand-in, representing our lack of comprehension of what Christ has done and is doing for us.
And in John's account of the Passion for today, Peter is featured in two separate incidents. When the mob comes to arrest Jesus, Peter lashes out in his zeal to protect Jesus:
Then comes Peter's denial in the courtyard of the praetorium where Jesus was being questioned by Pilate. He denies twice that he even knows Jesus, and then:
It's no accident that Peter is featured prominently in so many of the stories leading up to Jesus death and resurrection, through the early part of Acts of the Apostles. I believe Luke in particular saw Peter as kind of a Biblical Everyman, the embodiment of both the foibles and weakness of humanity and the immense power of redemption through the Resurrection of Jesus Christ. In the Gospels Peter acts out all of the boastful, cowardly things we are capable of. I don't like what I see of myself in the pre-Resurrection Peter. But I can't deny how much like Peter that I am.
But in Peter's experience we also see the immensity of Christ's love and forgiveness, of the power of redemption through the Resurrection. The one incident that encapsulates this is the disciples' encounter with the risen Jesus on the shores of the sea of Tiberius after the Resurrection. After Jesus helps them catch the 153 large fish, and shared bread and fish with them on the shore, he has a remarkable conversation with Peter:
The notes in the New American Bible tell us "In these three verses there is a remarkable variety of synonyms: two different Greek verbs for love (see the note on John 15:13); two verbs for feed/tend; two nouns for sheep; two verbs for know. But apparently there is no difference of meaning." It's as if Jesus is saying we are to love Him in every sense of the word, take care of His people in every sense, that his people (sheep) are all people, not just a few.
Through all the aspects of Peter's personality and relationship with Jesus, we have an extraordinary and very human example to follow.
For in Peter we have the Patron Saint of the Enneagram Six (a counterphobic one at that), a man whose "issues" from a psychoanalytic perspective always seem to revolve around fear vs. courage (see walking on water) and disbelief vs. faith. The story of his personal growth over the course of the gospels, and especially from the Passion of Christ through his death in Rome, is truly inspiring to me. The same Peter who denied Christ three times is transformed by the experience of Jesus' death and resurrection from a blustery, boastful, fearful man to one animated and made fearless by intimate knowledge of the Risen Christ.
In Tuesday's gospel, Peter makes a boast that will break his heart (and Jesus') in the early morning hours of Good Friday:
Peter said to him,Last night at Mass we heard the story washing the feet of the disciples in the gospel of John, and once again Peter is a featured character:
"Master, why can I not follow you now?
I will lay down my life for you."
Jesus answered, "Will you lay down your life for me?
Amen, amen, I say to you, the cock will not crow
before you deny me three times."
He came to Simon Peter, who said to him,
"Master, are you going to wash my feet?"
Jesus answered and said to him,
"What I am doing, you do not understand now,
but you will understand later."
Peter said to him, "You will never wash my feet."
Jesus answered him,
"Unless I wash you, you will have no inheritance with me."
Simon Peter said to him,
"Master, then not only my feet, but my hands and head as well."
Peter in one brief encounter ricochets between refusal to let Christ wash his feet to wanting Him to wash him all over. He is our stand-in, representing our lack of comprehension of what Christ has done and is doing for us.
And in John's account of the Passion for today, Peter is featured in two separate incidents. When the mob comes to arrest Jesus, Peter lashes out in his zeal to protect Jesus:
While Peter's heart is in the right place, he once again does not understand what has to take place. Not only that, but he reacts in a decidedly un-Christ-like way. In that he represents and anticipates so many of the abuses of the Church and others in using violence ostensibly in defense of Christ.
Then Simon Peter, who had a sword, drew it,
struck the high priest's slave, and cut off his right ear.
Then comes Peter's denial in the courtyard of the praetorium where Jesus was being questioned by Pilate. He denies twice that he even knows Jesus, and then:
One of the slaves of the high priest,Luke's account is heartbreaking at this dramatic moment:
a relative of the one whose ear Peter had cut off, said,
"Didn't I see you in the garden with him?"
Again Peter denied it.
And immediately the cock crowed.
- When a maid saw him seated in the light, she looked intently at him and said, "This man too was with him."
- But he denied it saying, "Woman, I do not know him."
- A short while later someone else saw him and said, "You too are one of them"; but Peter answered, "My friend, I am not."
- About an hour later, still another insisted, "Assuredly, this man too was with him, for he also is a Galilean."
- But Peter said, "My friend, I do not know what you are talking about." Just as he was saying this, the cock crowed,
- and the Lord turned and looked at Peter; and Peter remembered the word of the Lord, how he had said to him, "Before the cock crows today, you will deny me three times."
- He went out and began to weep bitterly.
It's no accident that Peter is featured prominently in so many of the stories leading up to Jesus death and resurrection, through the early part of Acts of the Apostles. I believe Luke in particular saw Peter as kind of a Biblical Everyman, the embodiment of both the foibles and weakness of humanity and the immense power of redemption through the Resurrection of Jesus Christ. In the Gospels Peter acts out all of the boastful, cowardly things we are capable of. I don't like what I see of myself in the pre-Resurrection Peter. But I can't deny how much like Peter that I am.
But in Peter's experience we also see the immensity of Christ's love and forgiveness, of the power of redemption through the Resurrection. The one incident that encapsulates this is the disciples' encounter with the risen Jesus on the shores of the sea of Tiberius after the Resurrection. After Jesus helps them catch the 153 large fish, and shared bread and fish with them on the shore, he has a remarkable conversation with Peter:
- When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, "Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?" He said to him, "Yes, Lord, you know that I love you." He said to him, "Feed my lambs."
- He then said to him a second time, "Simon, son of John, do you love me?" He said to him, "Yes, Lord, you know that I love you." He said to him, "Tend my sheep."
- He said to him the third time, "Simon, son of John, do you love me?" Peter was distressed that he had said to him a third time, "Do you love me?" and he said to him, "Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you." (Jesus) said to him, "Feed my sheep.
- Amen, amen, I say to you, when you were younger, you used to dress yourself and go where you wanted; but when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go."
- He said this signifying by what kind of death he would glorify God. And when he had said this, he said to him, "Follow me."
The notes in the New American Bible tell us "In these three verses there is a remarkable variety of synonyms: two different Greek verbs for love (see the note on John 15:13); two verbs for feed/tend; two nouns for sheep; two verbs for know. But apparently there is no difference of meaning." It's as if Jesus is saying we are to love Him in every sense of the word, take care of His people in every sense, that his people (sheep) are all people, not just a few.
Through all the aspects of Peter's personality and relationship with Jesus, we have an extraordinary and very human example to follow.
Monday, April 6, 2009
What Now? A Challenge for the Team and Our Supporters
Now comes the hard part.
Even though it's a big step going on a mission trip, and the trip itself is intense, the fact is that what happens after you come home is the hard part. Now you have seen the way life is for God's people in a faraway place where the material blessings of this life are fewer and harder to come by. You have seen how, in spite of these hardships and how vastly different their lives are, the people in Honduras are still just people, just like us in so many ways. God loves them as much as He loves you, and His light shines through them in such a special way. You cannot help but be affected, to be changed profoundly by the experience if you are open to the call of the Spirit.
Back now for more than a week, "normal" life creeps back into comfortable routine. We have our favorite foods (less rice and beans!), our big TV's, the Final Four, all our friends, our shiny cars and good roads, spring weather, school and work, and our families. Back at Shimishal, a new team is there working alongside Arnoldo, Fernando, Amada, and the rest. All those children are still in their orphanages. Families still struggle to make ends meet, to clothe and feed their families and keep a roof over their heads. The nuns at those orphanages still depend on the support of others, trusting absolutely in God to provide through others the things they need to raise the children in their care.
What will you do differently now that you've been there, now that you know? Will you tell your friends and your family about what you saw, the people you met, the work that's been done and the huge amount of work yet to be done? How the people there need our support, our prayers, as well as our efforts on future teams? Will you witness for them at your church and your office? Will you speak for them? And will you come back?
The emotion of our time there fades bit by bit, and our memories dim with the passage of time. It gets harder to remember names and faces. This is human, and understandable. But I hope you will keep in a little corner of your heart the love that was poured out on you so abundantly by the families at Shimishal and by your teammates.
When I started writing this, I thought I would suggest some ways for you to keep alive the experience of our mission together. But on further reflection I've concluded that each person's response is deeply personal, and in the same way that we each shared our particular gifts while we were there, our response will also reflect the gifts we have received from the Holy Spirit.
What I will do instead is share three things that I will do. First of all, I will lead another trip next March. Several of you asked me to lead another one, and so I will. Leading the trip was a challenge, but one of the most rewarding things I've done. I have requested March 5-14, 2010, which lines up with spring break for many universities in North Carolina. Second, as part of that trip, I have built in an extra day for the team to work at Hogar de Ninas in addition to the five days at the Habitat job site.
Lastly, I am committed to raise $4500 to help Sr. Dimora Lopez hire a full-time custodian at Hogar de Ninas. It was clear in our conversation with her that cleaning and maintenance is a tough issue for her. The vast majority of donations she receives are earmarked for a specific purpose like food, computers, etc. As a consequence she has no money for repairs or maintenance to the building, and trust me, it needs it.
If you are a team member who would like to help, or if you were at all moved by my story on the orphanage Hogar de Ninas, please send whatever support you can to:
Even as I commit to these small acts of follow-up, I wonder if it is enough of a response to what I saw and felt those nine days. But maybe that's just part of what makes coming back so hard.
Even though it's a big step going on a mission trip, and the trip itself is intense, the fact is that what happens after you come home is the hard part. Now you have seen the way life is for God's people in a faraway place where the material blessings of this life are fewer and harder to come by. You have seen how, in spite of these hardships and how vastly different their lives are, the people in Honduras are still just people, just like us in so many ways. God loves them as much as He loves you, and His light shines through them in such a special way. You cannot help but be affected, to be changed profoundly by the experience if you are open to the call of the Spirit.
Back now for more than a week, "normal" life creeps back into comfortable routine. We have our favorite foods (less rice and beans!), our big TV's, the Final Four, all our friends, our shiny cars and good roads, spring weather, school and work, and our families. Back at Shimishal, a new team is there working alongside Arnoldo, Fernando, Amada, and the rest. All those children are still in their orphanages. Families still struggle to make ends meet, to clothe and feed their families and keep a roof over their heads. The nuns at those orphanages still depend on the support of others, trusting absolutely in God to provide through others the things they need to raise the children in their care.
What will you do differently now that you've been there, now that you know? Will you tell your friends and your family about what you saw, the people you met, the work that's been done and the huge amount of work yet to be done? How the people there need our support, our prayers, as well as our efforts on future teams? Will you witness for them at your church and your office? Will you speak for them? And will you come back?
The emotion of our time there fades bit by bit, and our memories dim with the passage of time. It gets harder to remember names and faces. This is human, and understandable. But I hope you will keep in a little corner of your heart the love that was poured out on you so abundantly by the families at Shimishal and by your teammates.
When I started writing this, I thought I would suggest some ways for you to keep alive the experience of our mission together. But on further reflection I've concluded that each person's response is deeply personal, and in the same way that we each shared our particular gifts while we were there, our response will also reflect the gifts we have received from the Holy Spirit.
What I will do instead is share three things that I will do. First of all, I will lead another trip next March. Several of you asked me to lead another one, and so I will. Leading the trip was a challenge, but one of the most rewarding things I've done. I have requested March 5-14, 2010, which lines up with spring break for many universities in North Carolina. Second, as part of that trip, I have built in an extra day for the team to work at Hogar de Ninas in addition to the five days at the Habitat job site.
Lastly, I am committed to raise $4500 to help Sr. Dimora Lopez hire a full-time custodian at Hogar de Ninas. It was clear in our conversation with her that cleaning and maintenance is a tough issue for her. The vast majority of donations she receives are earmarked for a specific purpose like food, computers, etc. As a consequence she has no money for repairs or maintenance to the building, and trust me, it needs it.
If you are a team member who would like to help, or if you were at all moved by my story on the orphanage Hogar de Ninas, please send whatever support you can to:
Lisa ReynoldsIMPORTANT: Please make the check out to Habitat for Humanity of Greater Greensboro, and put "Hogar de Ninas" on the Memo line of the check. It wouldn't hurt to put a note in there with the check saying that it's for Hogar de Ninas to make sure.
Habitat for Humanity of Greater Greensboro
P O Box 3402
Greensboro, NC 27402
Even as I commit to these small acts of follow-up, I wonder if it is enough of a response to what I saw and felt those nine days. But maybe that's just part of what makes coming back so hard.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
In Praise and Thanksgiving for Infrastructure
There's been a lot of stuff in the press during the debate over the stimulus plan about our aging/crumbling infrastructure in the U.S. Maybe it really is in bad shape, and maybe I'm not the person to say. But I have now seen crumbling infrastructure up close and personal, and by comparison ours looks pretty doggone good.
In fact, I am saying a little prayer of thanksgiving for the blessing of our great infrastructure that is so invisible to us. We really don't understand how good we have it some very basic ways. So let me briefly catalog some things we can be glad we don't have to deal with.
And don't get me wrong, this is not a knock on the country, people, or government of Honduras. It's a developing country with a lot of pressing problems and not a lot of money to solve them. Luis mentioned to us that people come there all the time acting like Honduras is the ecological equivalent of Chernobyl, and it's not.
But here is a short list of things I noticed, and why I am thankful.
Roads -- to be honest, the roads are better in Honduras than I expected them to be, but that does not mean they have a great road system. The typical Honduran highway we saw was about three lanes wide, with no lane dividers. Traffic signs are almost non-existent -- speed limit signs only in towns, no signs indicating how far it is to the next town, inconsistent signage on how to get from Point A to Point B, etc. In places there were areas of extensive potholes, and in a couple of places the road had completely washed out and was just gravel and dirt for 100 meters or more. The bottom line is that getting around can be s-l-o-w: the trip from the San Pedro Sula to Santa Rosa de Copan is about 160 km or 100 miles. It took us about 3 1/2 hours.
Effectively there is no enforcement of traffic laws. Sure, the Policia Nacional set up checkpoints randomly, but it's not at all clear what they're looking for, and it's definitely not speeders. People drive insanely, particularly when it comes to passing, and unfortunately a lot of people die as a result. We even saw the aftermath of one fatal accident. I told the team it was just better not to watch when we were passing somebody. We here in the States can complain about speed traps and the like, but today I am thankful we have excellent roads and decent enforcement of traffic laws.
Water -- Everybody knows you can't drink the water. What does that mean? It means that you always need to be acquiring agua purificada -- purified water -- which I imagine is a big business. You can't use tap water to clean your food or make ice. When you take a shower you have to be careful not to swallow any, and you can't even rinse off your toothbrush with it. At Shimishal where we were building, the city supplies water by truck once every three days. People store water in black plastic cisterns on their roofs that double as solar water heaters. You can certainly live this way and live well, but it is inconvenient to say the least. I've been thankful since we got back that I can drink straight from the tap here.
Sewer -- Related to the water issues are the issues with the sewage system. Flush toilets are everywhere, so it's not like you're camping or anything. Occasionally you come across a toilet that has to be flushed by pouring in water from a bucket, but that's no big deal. However the only things that can go in the toilet are water and human waste. Every bathroom has a little trash can next to the toilet for your toilet paper. It's not as gross as it sounds, but it is an adjustment.
Electricity -- There apparently is no electrical code in Honduras, and if there is, it must be either very basic or not enforced. If you look carefully, you see a lot of things that would just never fly in the States. Looking up at the telephone poles carrying the power lines in Santa Rosa, you can see literally dozens of lines on each pole, almost like every house has its own line from the power station. At the Red Frog Tavern in Copan Ruinas, there was a bundle of power lines about a foot off the railing of the balcony. The wiring from the poles to the houses and within the houses (Habitat houses excluded) is equally dodgy. And at our hotel in Copan Ruinas, hot water was supplied by devices affectionately known as "widowmakers" -- on demand water heaters at the shower head. What looked like a 220V line came out of the wall and ran along the pipe to the shower head. The line was connected to the widowmaker using twisted wire and electrician's tape. Also, the power went out twice while we were in Copan Ruinas, and the impression I got was that it was a regular occurrence. Probably somebody taking a shower. ;-)
Solid waste disposal -- Garbage collection as a service or even a concept does not seem to be widely known or practiced. There is no sanitary landfill. You have to arrange for the disposal of your own basura (garbage), and a lot of it gets burned -- plastic, paper, batteries, cans, bottles, whatever -- and sometimes in unlikely places like along the side of the road. Most of Honduras is truly beautiful, and even pristine looking, but parts of San Pedro Sula, Santa Rosa, and even the small towns and individual houses had lots of litter around them.
So as you go through your day today, be aware of and thankful for the many BASIC services we have here that improve our health and quality of life, and remember that it's just not like that in many parts of the world.
In fact, I am saying a little prayer of thanksgiving for the blessing of our great infrastructure that is so invisible to us. We really don't understand how good we have it some very basic ways. So let me briefly catalog some things we can be glad we don't have to deal with.
And don't get me wrong, this is not a knock on the country, people, or government of Honduras. It's a developing country with a lot of pressing problems and not a lot of money to solve them. Luis mentioned to us that people come there all the time acting like Honduras is the ecological equivalent of Chernobyl, and it's not.
But here is a short list of things I noticed, and why I am thankful.
Roads -- to be honest, the roads are better in Honduras than I expected them to be, but that does not mean they have a great road system. The typical Honduran highway we saw was about three lanes wide, with no lane dividers. Traffic signs are almost non-existent -- speed limit signs only in towns, no signs indicating how far it is to the next town, inconsistent signage on how to get from Point A to Point B, etc. In places there were areas of extensive potholes, and in a couple of places the road had completely washed out and was just gravel and dirt for 100 meters or more. The bottom line is that getting around can be s-l-o-w: the trip from the San Pedro Sula to Santa Rosa de Copan is about 160 km or 100 miles. It took us about 3 1/2 hours.
Effectively there is no enforcement of traffic laws. Sure, the Policia Nacional set up checkpoints randomly, but it's not at all clear what they're looking for, and it's definitely not speeders. People drive insanely, particularly when it comes to passing, and unfortunately a lot of people die as a result. We even saw the aftermath of one fatal accident. I told the team it was just better not to watch when we were passing somebody. We here in the States can complain about speed traps and the like, but today I am thankful we have excellent roads and decent enforcement of traffic laws.
Water -- Everybody knows you can't drink the water. What does that mean? It means that you always need to be acquiring agua purificada -- purified water -- which I imagine is a big business. You can't use tap water to clean your food or make ice. When you take a shower you have to be careful not to swallow any, and you can't even rinse off your toothbrush with it. At Shimishal where we were building, the city supplies water by truck once every three days. People store water in black plastic cisterns on their roofs that double as solar water heaters. You can certainly live this way and live well, but it is inconvenient to say the least. I've been thankful since we got back that I can drink straight from the tap here.
Sewer -- Related to the water issues are the issues with the sewage system. Flush toilets are everywhere, so it's not like you're camping or anything. Occasionally you come across a toilet that has to be flushed by pouring in water from a bucket, but that's no big deal. However the only things that can go in the toilet are water and human waste. Every bathroom has a little trash can next to the toilet for your toilet paper. It's not as gross as it sounds, but it is an adjustment.
Electricity -- There apparently is no electrical code in Honduras, and if there is, it must be either very basic or not enforced. If you look carefully, you see a lot of things that would just never fly in the States. Looking up at the telephone poles carrying the power lines in Santa Rosa, you can see literally dozens of lines on each pole, almost like every house has its own line from the power station. At the Red Frog Tavern in Copan Ruinas, there was a bundle of power lines about a foot off the railing of the balcony. The wiring from the poles to the houses and within the houses (Habitat houses excluded) is equally dodgy. And at our hotel in Copan Ruinas, hot water was supplied by devices affectionately known as "widowmakers" -- on demand water heaters at the shower head. What looked like a 220V line came out of the wall and ran along the pipe to the shower head. The line was connected to the widowmaker using twisted wire and electrician's tape. Also, the power went out twice while we were in Copan Ruinas, and the impression I got was that it was a regular occurrence. Probably somebody taking a shower. ;-)
Solid waste disposal -- Garbage collection as a service or even a concept does not seem to be widely known or practiced. There is no sanitary landfill. You have to arrange for the disposal of your own basura (garbage), and a lot of it gets burned -- plastic, paper, batteries, cans, bottles, whatever -- and sometimes in unlikely places like along the side of the road. Most of Honduras is truly beautiful, and even pristine looking, but parts of San Pedro Sula, Santa Rosa, and even the small towns and individual houses had lots of litter around them.
So as you go through your day today, be aware of and thankful for the many BASIC services we have here that improve our health and quality of life, and remember that it's just not like that in many parts of the world.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
What I Did on Spring Break, or How to Build a House Out of Dirt
Most of the material used to build the houses we worked on in Santa Rosa de Copan came from the actual ground they were built on. It's a pretty fascinating process, and it saves the Santa Rosa affiliate about 25% of the cost of each house vs. using cinder block -- kind of a buy-four-and-get-one-free deal.
Most of the dirt came from digging foundations. Every foundation is dug manually in a sort of hand-to-hand combat using shovels (la pala), pickaxes (la piocha) and a heavy iron digging bar (la barra). Keith and Andrew dug more than one foundation, and that is hard work. The two of them seemed drawn to the toughest jobs, but I never heard a peep of complaint from either.
The footer consists of boulders about the size of a basketball set in layers of concrete. The boulders are quite large when they come off the truck and have to be broken with a sledgehammer.
Then we carry them in wheelbarrows or by hand and place them around the foundation...
...then place them carefully into the footer...
...and cover them with concrete carried by hand in buckets. Lather, rinse, repeat until it's up to the proper height, and presto! A foundation for a new home.
From there it all starts with dirt. But not just any dirt -- it has to be screened to get out big rocks, sticks, and trash. All of the dirt used to make the houses comes from the building site. Basically you just shovel dirt through screens like the one below. It takes a staggering quantity of clean dirt to build one of these houses.
Screened dirt is piled up in measured amounts (X number of wheelbarrow loads) and mixed with lime, cement and a small amount of water. The pile is mixed on the ground entirely by hand, and the resulting mixture looks like damp dirt. I expected the adobe mix to be much wetter, but it's really just damp.
This mix is then packed into block presses which compress the mix under extreme pressure using only manpower and leverage.
When the blocks come out, they are very fragile and are carried by hand to a flat surface where they dry in the sun. It takes about three days to cure the blocks before they are ready for building. In the picture below, team members stand blocks on end after they have dried for a day lying flat. This makes room for more block, and exposes more surface area to the air for drying.
When the blocks are dry, they are carried by wheelbarrow to the house where they'll be used. To lay the blocks to form walls requires lots and lots of mezcla (mortar) which is mixed by hand from screened dirt, sand, water and cement mix. Mixing a big batch of mezcla is one of the first things done every day, and it is hard work. Evidently so hard, in fact, that both Andrew and Bob are totally pooped.
The blocks are laid just like cinder block, with steel rebar running vertically in all corners and wall junctions for reinforcement. Thick steel wire goes in the mortar joint between every third course to tie the walls together. Below Molly and Fernando start a new course of block on an interior wall, while Megan demonstrates how to fill in mortar joints.
After twelve courses of block are laid, we pour a band of steel-reinforced concrete around the top of all the walls. This band also forms the header above all of the doors and windows. This requires rebar cages made of dozens of square wire forms that become the ribs of the cage, holding together four steel rebar rods that are each about ten meters long. Below Molly, Pat and Sue use the bolt cutters to cut wire for the ribs into uniform lengths. Below that, Judy helps one of the Hondurans build a rebar cage.
The cages are then bent to fit the walls and attached to the vertical rebar. Below, Steve and Gerard attach a cage to a wall we built, and Fernando gives the thumbs-up to indicate that everything is "cheke leke" with this cage.
The masons build wooden forms along the top of the wall around the cages to hold the concrete. These cages have to be very stout due to the weight of the concrete, and must hold tight to the wall so that the concrete doesn't leak out. Here one of the masons fits a piece in a bathroom window on the bottom of the form. There was not a single power saw on the entire site, so every board was cut with a hand saw.
After the forms are set up, we mix up an enormous batch of concreto to pour into the form around the rebar cages. Actually I think it took at least two enormous batches to do the trick for each house. Here Matt, Keith, Andrew and Bob are standing around looking like they just mixed that concreto, though probably the Hondurans did most of the work. ;-)
We shovel the concrete into 5-gallon buckets and hoist it up top to pour into the forms. Nacho Libre demonstrates how it's done. He's always stylin' with the do rag or something else on his head...such a slave to fashion.
After the concrete band has hardened, the masons add a couple more courses of block, then build the gable ends of the house to hold the roof.
The roofers then come and put on steel rafters and a corrugated metal roof. (Sorry, no visuals, though I did see it done).
The inside and outside finish on the walls is concrete stucco. Before applying the stucco, however, the walls have to be roughed up to hold the stucco mix. Nacho and Bob got the short straw and did that job for a day or so, which completely covered them in dust. It was one of the nastiest jobs of the week, but they stuck with it and never complained. Below Nacho shows off his mad guns while using the battle axe to rough up the walls.
Here is the finished product, with painted stucco walls, a poured concrete floor, and a few homeowner flourishes added for effect. Each house has two bedrooms, one bath, and a greatroom/kitchen, in a tight little package of 400-450 s.f.
Most of the dirt came from digging foundations. Every foundation is dug manually in a sort of hand-to-hand combat using shovels (la pala), pickaxes (la piocha) and a heavy iron digging bar (la barra). Keith and Andrew dug more than one foundation, and that is hard work. The two of them seemed drawn to the toughest jobs, but I never heard a peep of complaint from either.
The footer consists of boulders about the size of a basketball set in layers of concrete. The boulders are quite large when they come off the truck and have to be broken with a sledgehammer.
Then we carry them in wheelbarrows or by hand and place them around the foundation...
...then place them carefully into the footer...
...and cover them with concrete carried by hand in buckets. Lather, rinse, repeat until it's up to the proper height, and presto! A foundation for a new home.
From there it all starts with dirt. But not just any dirt -- it has to be screened to get out big rocks, sticks, and trash. All of the dirt used to make the houses comes from the building site. Basically you just shovel dirt through screens like the one below. It takes a staggering quantity of clean dirt to build one of these houses.
Screened dirt is piled up in measured amounts (X number of wheelbarrow loads) and mixed with lime, cement and a small amount of water. The pile is mixed on the ground entirely by hand, and the resulting mixture looks like damp dirt. I expected the adobe mix to be much wetter, but it's really just damp.
This mix is then packed into block presses which compress the mix under extreme pressure using only manpower and leverage.
When the blocks come out, they are very fragile and are carried by hand to a flat surface where they dry in the sun. It takes about three days to cure the blocks before they are ready for building. In the picture below, team members stand blocks on end after they have dried for a day lying flat. This makes room for more block, and exposes more surface area to the air for drying.
When the blocks are dry, they are carried by wheelbarrow to the house where they'll be used. To lay the blocks to form walls requires lots and lots of mezcla (mortar) which is mixed by hand from screened dirt, sand, water and cement mix. Mixing a big batch of mezcla is one of the first things done every day, and it is hard work. Evidently so hard, in fact, that both Andrew and Bob are totally pooped.
The blocks are laid just like cinder block, with steel rebar running vertically in all corners and wall junctions for reinforcement. Thick steel wire goes in the mortar joint between every third course to tie the walls together. Below Molly and Fernando start a new course of block on an interior wall, while Megan demonstrates how to fill in mortar joints.
After twelve courses of block are laid, we pour a band of steel-reinforced concrete around the top of all the walls. This band also forms the header above all of the doors and windows. This requires rebar cages made of dozens of square wire forms that become the ribs of the cage, holding together four steel rebar rods that are each about ten meters long. Below Molly, Pat and Sue use the bolt cutters to cut wire for the ribs into uniform lengths. Below that, Judy helps one of the Hondurans build a rebar cage.
The cages are then bent to fit the walls and attached to the vertical rebar. Below, Steve and Gerard attach a cage to a wall we built, and Fernando gives the thumbs-up to indicate that everything is "cheke leke" with this cage.
The masons build wooden forms along the top of the wall around the cages to hold the concrete. These cages have to be very stout due to the weight of the concrete, and must hold tight to the wall so that the concrete doesn't leak out. Here one of the masons fits a piece in a bathroom window on the bottom of the form. There was not a single power saw on the entire site, so every board was cut with a hand saw.
After the forms are set up, we mix up an enormous batch of concreto to pour into the form around the rebar cages. Actually I think it took at least two enormous batches to do the trick for each house. Here Matt, Keith, Andrew and Bob are standing around looking like they just mixed that concreto, though probably the Hondurans did most of the work. ;-)
We shovel the concrete into 5-gallon buckets and hoist it up top to pour into the forms. Nacho Libre demonstrates how it's done. He's always stylin' with the do rag or something else on his head...such a slave to fashion.
After the concrete band has hardened, the masons add a couple more courses of block, then build the gable ends of the house to hold the roof.
The roofers then come and put on steel rafters and a corrugated metal roof. (Sorry, no visuals, though I did see it done).The inside and outside finish on the walls is concrete stucco. Before applying the stucco, however, the walls have to be roughed up to hold the stucco mix. Nacho and Bob got the short straw and did that job for a day or so, which completely covered them in dust. It was one of the nastiest jobs of the week, but they stuck with it and never complained. Below Nacho shows off his mad guns while using the battle axe to rough up the walls.
Here is the finished product, with painted stucco walls, a poured concrete floor, and a few homeowner flourishes added for effect. Each house has two bedrooms, one bath, and a greatroom/kitchen, in a tight little package of 400-450 s.f.
Progress
When we showed up two years ago at Shimishal, the neighborhood was barely begun. We started four or five houses that year and made progress on several others. Here's what it looked like in March 2007:
The house in this picture was the furthest along of any of them, and even by the end of the week it was not yet ready for a roof. There was maybe one more house to the right of those shown here that had some block work down, and maybe a couple more with foundations poured.
A year later the 18 original houses were essentially complete but still unoccupied. That year the Greensboro team worked on digging the water lines to each house, while the Durham team of which I was a part constructed the sewer lines. By the end of our stay, the main street looked like a network of trenches from WWI. It was still a bit like a ghost town.
There were maybe 20 or so of us on that team, a handful of masons, a backhoe operator (my man Walter Machado) and an ever-changing handful of homeowners.
This year the change from the prior year was dramatic. All of the original 18 houses were occupied and the streets were filled with people -- especially kids. Homeowners had made extensive improvments, including workshops, walls, clotheslines and gardens. Homes were
decorated, painted, furnished. The place was alive. Indeed those humble structures had been transformed from casa (house) to hogar (home).
The finished house shown here is the same one in the very first picture above from 2007.
On the construction site to the back of the original 18 houses, at least a dozen are under construction. The place is aswarm with activity. Where before there were maybe 10 Honduran laborers to our 20 or so team members, now there are at least as many Hondurans as team members. And since, on average, the Hondurans probably do about twice as much work in a day, the amount of progress is visible from one day to the next. There is a feeling of tremendous energy and enthusiasm about the place. We can all see now very clearly where this is going and how these good people are going to benefit. This is a good place. It is now a real neighborhood.
The house in this picture was the furthest along of any of them, and even by the end of the week it was not yet ready for a roof. There was maybe one more house to the right of those shown here that had some block work down, and maybe a couple more with foundations poured.
A year later the 18 original houses were essentially complete but still unoccupied. That year the Greensboro team worked on digging the water lines to each house, while the Durham team of which I was a part constructed the sewer lines. By the end of our stay, the main street looked like a network of trenches from WWI. It was still a bit like a ghost town.There were maybe 20 or so of us on that team, a handful of masons, a backhoe operator (my man Walter Machado) and an ever-changing handful of homeowners.
This year the change from the prior year was dramatic. All of the original 18 houses were occupied and the streets were filled with people -- especially kids. Homeowners had made extensive improvments, including workshops, walls, clotheslines and gardens. Homes were
decorated, painted, furnished. The place was alive. Indeed those humble structures had been transformed from casa (house) to hogar (home).The finished house shown here is the same one in the very first picture above from 2007.
On the construction site to the back of the original 18 houses, at least a dozen are under construction. The place is aswarm with activity. Where before there were maybe 10 Honduran laborers to our 20 or so team members, now there are at least as many Hondurans as team members. And since, on average, the Hondurans probably do about twice as much work in a day, the amount of progress is visible from one day to the next. There is a feeling of tremendous energy and enthusiasm about the place. We can all see now very clearly where this is going and how these good people are going to benefit. This is a good place. It is now a real neighborhood.
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