Showing posts with label Storytelling. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Storytelling. Show all posts

Sunday, January 23, 2011

Week Two

Reading Reflections:
Hispanic/Latino Theology pp. 73-103
            This week’s reading continued the theme of storytelling. Chapter four, “In the Image and Likeness of God” by Ana Maria Diaz-Stevens, focuses on the role of literature in Hispanic theology. Literature is framed as storytelling, and Diaz-Stevens asserts that “storytelling…transcends the personal worldview to reflect the values upon which a society is either maintained or transformed” (86).  Throughout the chapter, she discusses several works of Hispanic literature that have contributed to Hispanic theology, such as Don Quijote (92). She emphasizes the power of la palabra (the word) in Hispanic culture, explaining that words have “the power to cause movement and change” (90). She goes so far as to say that through their words, Hispanic authors have illustrated “a new way of being Hispanic” (101). Words have a tremendous capacity for transforming the world and building peace, if used wisely. And most of all, words, if heard, can be a source of unity: “everyone must articulate his or her own story so that out of many voices will come one harmonious story of humanity” (90).
Chapter three, “The Lesson of the Gibeonites” by Francisco Garcia-Treto, focuses on the dialogic nature of Scripture, particularly in the story of the Gibeonites in Joshua 9 (74). Even though God commands Israel to “utterly destroy” the people of the land, “[making] no covenant with them and [showing] them no mercy,” (Deut 7.2), the Gibeonites manage to trick Joshua and “obtain a covenant that protects them, albeit reduced to the status of ‘hewers of wood and drawers of water’ for the congregation of Israel’” (75). In this story, the biblical text clearly displays a dialogic nature. God’s command to Israel does not get the last word; rather, the creative (and deceptive) Gibeonites are given a voice that ultimately tricks Joshua into disobeying the command of God! This is a matter of survival for the Gibeonites, and they do “[succeed] in subverting the genocial project the Deuteronomic Yahweh promulgated” (83). This redefines the dialogue between Israel and the “outsider” (83). In Joshua 9, the one “first defined as an undesirable alien to be exterminated from the promised land, has been heard and once heard can no longer be denied humanity or the consequent right to exist” (83, emphasis mine). Once the voice of the Gibeonites is heard by Israel and given a place in the biblical narrative, it transforms the relationship between Israel and the “other,” the “outsider” (83). While the status granted to the Gibeonites in Joshua’s covenant is alarmingly low, it is a status of life, of humanity. This is the fruit of dialogue; to hear the voice of the outsider, of the other, is to affirm their humanity and walk with them on the path toward becoming “strangers no longer” (42).

Journal Article Reflections:
            This week, I read one article in The Latino Journal and two articles in El Interprete. The article in The Latino Journal focused on the reapportionment of congressional seats in relationship to Latino population. According to the article, Hispanic voters make up 15.2% of eligible voters in states that gained seats, while they make up only 5.4% of eligible voters in the states that lost seats. Thus, “Hispanic voters are nearly three times more prevalent” in the states gaining seats. The article also pointed out that there are more Hispanic U.S. citizens under 17 (15.5 million) than the total non-citizen population (12.8 million). While this article did not specifically focus on Hispanic ministry, in order to serve the Hispanic population in the U.S., it is important to understand these political dynamics. In the short term, it will be interesting to see how Hispanic voters will use their increased collective power in Congress. And in the long term, it will be fascinating to see how the 15.5 million Hispanic U.S. citizens under the age of 17 will impact both local and national politics as they become eligible to vote.
            The article I most appreciated this week was “Grupos pequeños: El eslabón perdido” in El Interprete. This article focused on the “missing link” in our United Methodist churches today: small groups. It discussed John Wesley’s use of small groups, or “classes,” early in the Methodist movement. These groups served as a means of grace, as well as a way to live the life of both personal and social holiness that Wesley taught. This theme fit well with the other article I read in El Interprete, “Mi pasión es la enseñanza,” in which Irma M. Garza, a member of IMU El Buen Pastor in the Rio Grande Annual Conference, described the joy she has found in teaching Disciple Bible Study and ESL classes at her church. Irma herself was an ESL student when she came to the U.S., so this story is an example of the power of small groups in the local church setting. Small groups not only create space for people to receive God’s grace, they also provide the opportunity to those people to give back to their church family and community as Irma is doing. Both of these articles in El Interprete reminded me of the thing I love the most about the Wesleyan life of faith: the connection between personal and social holiness, and the abundance of opportunities to make and live that connection. As it says in the Book of Discipline of the UMC, “We proclaim no personal gospel that fails to express itself in relevant social concerns; we proclaim no social gospel that does not include the personal transformation of sinners” (BOD 49). While the UMC does not always succeed at proclaiming this relevant gospel, the firm foundation of tradition has been laid. Stories like Irma’s are glimmers of hope that the “missing link” of social holiness in our church is not really missing— it just needs reconnected and renewed.

Vocational Discernment:
            This week was filled with many opportunities for vocational discernment— conversations, classes, and much time in prayer. In Peacemaking Seminar this week, my understanding of career and call were challenged in ways that had me thinking all week long. You asked me to think about where I draw the lines consistently in my life and how I intentionally live in solidarity with those whom I feel called to serve. And you talked about being called to serve the Hispanic community as something that transcends a career— something that I could (and will) live out even if I am not employed specifically in Hispanic ministry. This struck me as revolutionary, that my call could be about living in a certain way rather than doing a certain job. As I spent time in prayer about this, I realized that in my attempt to discern my vocation, I have been neglecting my call. I have spent far too much time discerning what God wants me to do and not enough time discerning who God wants me to be. And honestly, it seems to me that if I know who I am called to be, what I am called to do will flow naturally out of that. Last week when I listed all the possibilities I see for my vocation, I did so with the hope that by the end of the semester I would figure out which one was the “right” option. But after this week, I have a new hope: that by the end of the semester, I will have a better understanding of the person I am called to be in Christ. And through the lens of that calling— that identity—I pray that I “may discern what is the will of God— what is good and acceptable and perfect” (Rom 12.2).

Monday, January 17, 2011

Week One

Reading Reflections:
Hispanic/Latino Theology pp. 15-72
In the first three essays of Hispanic/Latino Theology, an overarching theme I noticed was storytelling. So, a question I would like to focus on as I reflect on my reading for this week is: how can the ritual of storytelling be used as a tool for building peace and community in the Hispanic context? The first essay, “Aliens in a Promised Land” by Fernando Segovia, focused on the importance of the U.S. Hispanic American population embracing and raising its voice, specifically in the field of theology, in order to become “strangers no longer” (28). For Segovia, until the voice of the Hispanic people is heard, they will remain strangers in the “promised land” of the United States (28). He also describes the unique voice of U.S. Hispanic American theologians as one of “devotion and commitment…to the highest ideals of our new country and the deepest yearnings of our home countries” (30). It is from this perspective and context that U.S. Hispanic American people must embrace their identities, raise their voices, tell their stories, and become “strangers no longer” (42).
In the second essay, “Judith Ortiz Cofer’s Silent Dancing” by Elena Olazagasti-Segovia, the role of storytelling in Ortiz Cofer’s childhood is highlighted; for Ortiz Cofer, it was the “family ritual: the telling of stories” that taught the young Puerto Rican girl “what it was like to be a woman, more specifically, a Puerto Rican woman” (54). In this instance, storytelling is used within a culture to maintain and celebrate identity and tradition. The third essay, “Kingdom Building in the Borderlands” by Daisy L. Machado, describes the way in which the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) has “adopted and legitimized” the United States’ “melting pot” philosophy as it has done mission and ministry in the borderlands (64). Machado asserts that the church needs not to “remake a people in the image of the missionary,” but rather celebrate and affirm the culture of the borderlands (72). Ultimately, storytelling (or rather story-listening) is the means through which Machado envisions the people of the borderlands being included and affirmed in the life of the church. The church must listen, “so that their voice will no longer be ignored or denied its right to speak their story” (72).
What is clear from these readings is that storytelling plays a powerful role in the Hispanic context, and I would argue the human context in general. However, what is equally clear in these readings is that the power of storytelling lies in the willingness of the other party to listen. While storytelling can enable Hispanic people to become “strangers no longer” (42), if those in the center refuse to listen to the stories coming from the margins, the storytellers remain marginalized and oppressed. While storytelling can celebrate and pass on traditions within a culture, if the next generation will not listen, the melting pot will ultimately prevail (54). And while the church creating space for the stories of those in the borderlands to be heard is really an act of creating space for the people themselves, if the church turns a deaf ear to the unique context of these individuals, efforts to include them in the life of the church will continue to fail (72). Storytelling alone has no power; rather, it is the willingness to listen, to hear, and to celebrate these stories and the lives behind them that enables storytelling to create a new reality for “both the center and the margins” (30).

Journal Article Reflections:
            This week, I read three articles in El Interprete. At first, I was attracted to the articles “Desarrollo de lideres para hoy y el futuro” and “Un lider en formacion” since they shared the theme of next generation leadership development, an emphasis of the denomination and especially of my conference. So, I was curious to read more about the work being done specifically in the area of Hispanic next generation leadership development. I enjoyed the articles, and it turns out that many of the same buzz words and initiatives are being employed across cultural and linguistic divides as the United Methodist Church seeks to move forward and train up its next generation of leaders.
            However, the article I most enjoyed was “Un regalo de esperanza en la vina.” This was an article about the experience of two United Methodist pastors in Tulare Country, California who spent a day serving in the vineyards alongside farm workers. What originally sparked my curiosity about this article was the connection between farm workers and grapes, specifically thinking about connections to grape juice and communion. Before I even read the article, I found myself pondering the ethics of our use of grape juice as “the blood of Christ,” which has been produced by Hispanic farm workers likely under extremely difficult working conditions. Unfortunately, the article had nothing to do with the ethics of communion beyond my initial thoughts. However, the article was about the simple gift of presence— the presence of the pastors working alongside the farm workers, and the impact their willingness to be present had on the farm workers. Toward the end of the article, one of the pastors shares that the workers said to him, “Pastor, ahora usted es uno de nosotros” (“Pastor, now you are one of us”). Those of us in ministry must become one with those whom we serve— not only listening to their stories but living the stories alongside them. This is the model of the incarnation itself, that in Christ the people of God did not hear a sermon, see a commercial, or receive a flyer in the mail; rather, they experienced the “simple historical presence of Logos himself enfleshed in their (our) midst, so they could let their story be incorporated in his” (Early and Grimsrud 53). In the same way, it is through our presence—and Christ’s presence through us—in the fields and on the border that the stories of the Hispanic community will be heard and our Hispanic sisters and brothers will be incorporated into the stories of our churches.

Vocational Discernment:
            Over the course of the past year at Bluffton, my vocational aspirations have broadened greatly. While I came to Bluffton specifically wanting to serve in Hispanic ministry, at this point when asked what I want to do after college, I answer, “peace and justice ministry.” Of course, Hispanic ministry fits quite neatly into the category of peace and justice ministry. But my experiences at Bluffton have broadened my understanding of my call and vocation. I view this as a positive, since I see many possibilities for careers within the field of peace and justice ministry. These include Hispanic ministry in the U.S., mission work in Mexico, border justice/peace work, prison ministry, restorative justice work, church conflict transformation/mediation work, and advocacy work. In addition to these careers in peace and justice ministry, I could also see myself teaching in a university setting, though this is a relatively new development partially brought on by recent comments of people who know me well. So, as of the first week of the semester, these are my vocational thoughts…I look forward to much exploration and discernment throughout the course of the semester!

Bibliography
Early, Christian E. and Ted G. Grimsrud, eds. A Pacifist Way of Knowing: John Howard Yoder’s Nonviolent Epistemology. Eugene, OR: Cascade, 2010.