This paper is an attempt to synthesize the events of my Intercultural Ministry Experience (IME) to the Gulf Coast into some sort of coherent, overarching conclusions of epic proportions. I will attempt to understand how what I experienced will affect my understanding of faith in life and how it will affect my future ministry. This will prove to be a significant challenge as the experiences that I had were not-exactly-consistent, nor am I gifted at recognizing integration in such a short time frame. So, get out your reading glasses, grab a glass of beverage (and maybe a snack), get comfy and read on!
In some ways I am envious of the members of my cohort that went to Vietnam and Cambodia. For certain, they did not have the difficulty that I am having determining the aspects of my IME that were cross-cultural, because in many ways, the culture on the Gulf Coast is not all that different from the Northeast. (According to the group of senior citizens from Mobile that we spent time with, our Northern conception of Southerners is based mainly on folks from the Carolinas, Georgia and the northern parts of the Gulf states.) At the same time, due to my health, the likelihood of me spending significant portions of time in Southeast Asia in a ministerial capacity is extremely low, but my likelihood of encountering and ministering to people from different cultural backgrounds in America is quite high. In this respect, my IME will be much more useful to me than I believe journeying to SE Asia would have been.
Our first night in Mobile generated what I would describe as the biggest cultural difference between the Gulf Coast and the Northeast, and that is the aspect of hospitality. Our host family, Arlin and Velma Schrock, were incredibly gracious. When they said, “Make yourselves at home,” I literally felt like they were inviting us into their family for our stay. Honestly, this made me uncomfortable as my understanding of hospitality in the Northeast recognizes the use of this phrase, but also recognizes that there is an underlying sense of boundaries on that hospitality. In other words, hosts in the Northeast convey hospitality (perhaps unconsciously) as, “Make yourselves at home, but realize that the leather chair in the corner is mine, and the sacred TV hour is from 7:00-8:00 when we watch Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune.” (A few Northerners have confronted me on this conclusion saying, “I certainly do not feel that way,” but my past experiences says that they are either in the minority or their boundaries are more subconscious than they can admit to.) My discomfort arose from expecting boundaries, but not knowing where those boundaries could be found. This challenges me to evaluate my understanding of hospitality, where my unconscious boundaries are and how to live a life of true hospitality. Although not used in the same context, I believe that Jesus’ words in Matthew 5, where he talks about going two miles with the person who asks you to go one mile, can apply here in the sense that I should give beyond what is asked or expected.
This sense of hospitality was extremely noticeable in the conversation we had with Reverend Rose Mary Williams of DeLisle Mt. Zion United Methodist Church. At first, Evan and I anticipated our conversation with her revolving around the fact that she is an African-American woman in the pastorate (something that seems more acceptable in the North than in the South), but instead our conversation revolved around the concept of God’s love for the community being manifest through the obedience of Rev. Rose Mary to her calling from the Holy Spirit. She was very clear that she views the entire community around her as her children, and that God has given her a responsibility for all of them. This is counter to what I think is the understanding of Northern pastors. Yes, often we believe that we have a responsibility to the members within our local communities, but we focus almost exclusively on those who are in our church or those that are not in a church at all. We figure (again, perhaps unconsciously) that those involved in another congregation are cared for and not in need of our services. Or perhaps we pay less attention to them because we do not want to initiate a “turf war” with another church. Not so with Rev. Rose Mary. In honesty, she is in an extremely unique situation. She served the community for many years as a public school teacher prior to receiving her call into the pastorate, and she acknowledges that God used that time to open the entire community up to her. She was not viewed as either a female, African-American or United Methodist pastor or any combination of the three, but was instead viewed as a member of the community who had frequently evidenced care and concern and now just happens to be a female, African-American, United Methodist pastor. Because of her continually cultivated relationship with the community, she has been able to develop a tremendous level of ecumenism in the community for great works such as the local Marsha Barbour Community Center. Additionally, her following of the Holy Spirit and the vision that he has laid on her heart causes people of all race, culture and creed to seek her out for guidance, and yet she is not viewed by other pastors as invading their “turf.” Speaking to Rev. Rose Mary was so uplifting and challenging that I could ask no questions, but could only sit and wonder if I could be that faithful to God and the people he loves. Please, God, may it be so!
A recurring thing that we heard while we were down on the Gulf was the long-term toll that first Katrina and then the oil spill has had on the Gulf. I was amazed at how many people are trying to look past those things and move on with their lives, which is a real testament to the resiliency of the Gulf Coast residents. But it was not very difficult to get past the, “Well, what can you do but move on?” veneer, and see how these two events have impacted each person down there. Speaking with the senior citizens, you see a lot of looking back to past storms and difficulties and the resultant faith that the community will survive and move on, given enough time. With Kim, an older, Vietnamese oyster-shucker, you hear gratefulness that she is being provided for by BP, but you hear sadness as she describes how that compensation is less than if she were working and worry about how she will pay for her home. For Billy, a shrimper whose boat was severely damaged in Katrina, life has gone on running another persons boat and some occasional work doing cleanup, but he doubts that fishing will ever return to the way it was before the spill, at least in his lifetime. Nelson Roth, the founder of Relevant Ministry (RM, www.relevantministry.org), describes how hearing the wind blowing the tree branches against his house automatically evokes mental images of Katrina. These people have literally weathered the storm, but the storm has not left them unchanged. God be praised for the ministries like RM in the Gulf Coast area that are seeking to help people cope with what has happened and to be able to move on physically, emotionally and spiritually!
Of great interest to both Evan and I was the work at Relevant Ministry in the Gulfport, MS area. Listening to both Nelson and Jeff Hegstrom, the director of RM, you can hear how their hearts overflow with compassion for the people of the Gulf Coast through the pastors and churches of the area. So many pastors, they say, have their hands full trying simply to maintain their church congregations. There is little time for them to deal with their own wounds or to look into community outreach. Pastors are often disheartened and overwhelmed, have become OK with the status quo or, sometimes, become bitter and leave ministry. As a pastor, I can see how this would play out in a community. Pastors in the Northeast can have difficulty managing a church with a few members that are unemployed, some that are experiencing financial, emotional, or relational distress and maybe one or two that are facing housing issues. Imagine what it is like when the majority of your congregation is experiencing one or more of those issues? It would be crippling! Add to that the natural tendency of many pastors to be the “Super Pastor” who is able to handle everything by himself, and you have a recipe for disaster. RM seeks to help the community by rowing congregations of love and support through providing churches with interns who can relieve their pastors of some of the ministry load. In honesty, Jeff and Nelson create such a sense of passion, excitement and necessity-of-mission that I briefly wondered what it would be like to work with them in a long-term capacity. However, I realize that God has me in the position that he does for a reason, and I was able to resist the Siren’s Song, but my desire to try to find ways to help them in their ministry persists. The big question now is, “How?” Perhaps through creating ties with Biblical, or perhaps with Evan being able to create connections with Philadelphia Biblical University we can find ways of getting potential interns in contact with RM.
We did have the great opportunity to experience a true intercultural encounter when we spent Tuesday with Bounpheng Thammavong, or Pheng (pronounced “Ping”). Pheng had been over in the U.S. and Canada for 11 months as an intern from Laos, and was two days from returning when Evan and I arrived in Mobile. It was a great joy to have Pheng give us an intercultural view on his intercultural experience, which was doubly intercultural as he was spending time with Vietnamese immigrants in America! But these things did not faze him. He was caring towards all whom we saw him interact with, and they responded in kind despite any language difficulties thus illustrating that love and care can transcend any cultural boundary. We also learned much about Pheng at a Thai restaurant owned by Laotians, and learned that there are many similarities between the Lao and Thai cultures as Pheng conversed fluidly with our Thai waiter.
Pheng took us to a Laotian Buddhist temple near Bayou La Batre. While Evan, Pheng and I wandered around the small temple that was there and Pheng told us what he knew of Buddhism in Laos, one of the monks came out to speak with us. It was so beneficial to have Pheng there as the monk spoke virtually no English. We discovered that the monk was responsible for constructing most of the statuary found on the property and that he had constructed everything out of tools that he had made. When asked why he was here, the monk responded that he had a passion for teaching people about Lao culture, but that it was extremely difficult for him here since he spoke so little English. He was discouraged and wanted to go home, but he was being told that he was extremely valuable to the temple and would be needed longer. Our monk could not explain all of the statuary that he had built, which, in our opinions, would be the equivalent of a pastor not being able to explain the symbolism in baptism or communion, and thus very odd. It was also interesting to hear that Buddhists (at least from the monks experience/knowledge) do not engage in proselytization. (Also, according to Pheng, this question “gave us away” as Christians to the monk.) It was also interesting to hear the difference between Lao Buddhism and Vietnamese Buddhism as expressed through Thich Nhat Hanh and my research for our presentation on religion. Our Lao monk (who would follow Theravada Buddhism) was much more about pressing on into the afterlife/Nirvana than Vietnamese Buddhists (who follow Mahayana Buddhism), which are much more concerned about the interaction of humanity with the land and the purification of the land.
Pheng took us to visit Kim, the elderly, Vietnamese woman who made her living as an oyster-shucker that was mentioned above. She was such an incredibly sweet lady, who welcomed Evan and I as warmly as she welcomed Pheng. Despite not being able to communicate clearly, we were able to get glimpses into her life. Her life would be described by our standards as one of poverty and dysfunction. She lives in a fairly run-down trailer with a wood-pallet walkway that is sparsely appointed and relatively dirty. She lives there with her son and their flea-bitten dog. The son, who is a welder that speaks practically no English, is out of work because there is little-to-no ship building/repair going on since the fishing boats are not in regular service. Her daughter lives down the road, but there is little interaction between Kim, her daughter and Kim's grandchildren as Kim and her son-in-law do not get along. Kim, as mentioned before, is out of work and is being compensated by BP, but not nearly as much as she makes working. Kim, sitting on the sofa holding onto Pheng’s hand, told us about her health before meeting Thi, a young Vietnamese man who has served as an interpreter for and missionary to the local Vietnamese community. She was constantly ill, stooped over when she stood, shuffled when she walked and was unable to work. Thi came and introduced Kim to Jesus, and they prayed for her and she was healed! As I said in my blog, I am not sure if the healing was immediate or happened over time, but that does not matter nearly as much as Kim understanding and accepting that Jesus was for her and that he loved her and gave himself for her. Now, Kim practically bounces around the room. I love how throughout the conversation Kim would point to a picture of Jesus by the door and say, “He number 1. Number 1!”
The last thing that I want to mention about the Bayou is the Sunday evening that we spent with the Vietnamese community. It was an interesting evening. To start things off, J.D., Evan and I drove around Bayou La Batre trying to find Kim’s house so that we could take her to the Bible study if necessary. Evan and I were praying that God would be gracious and give us the ability to help J.D. find the house, which he had not been to before and we had only been to once. Lo and behold, God was gracious and answered our prayers when we found the entrance to Kim’s street next to the billboard with “the creepy Jesus picture” (Evan’s wording)! After ensuring that Kim had a ride, we headed over to the community center in the Bayou for the Bible study. Evan and I waited and spoke with Tran, a young Vietnamese lady who was going to help J.D. with translation, while J.D. ran out to pick up some of the Vietnamese teens who were coming by. Tran was very similar to the students that J.D. brought to the Bible study in that she was more American than Vietnamese. She spoke fluent English, dressed like any other American her age and was interested in American things (she kept telling us that if we had time we should go to Biloxi and gamble a little or go to Pensacola to see the beaches). Perhaps this is because she came over from Vietnam when she was very young. After a bit, the adults went into a room for a Vietnamese Bible study, while Evan and I stayed with the three Vietnamese youth, Phi, Laura and Liu, and a group of kids and a pastor from a church near Daphne, AL. It was interesting watching the group dynamic: the three Vietnamese students were obviously the ones on the outside even though they were on their home turf simply because they were in the minority. Based on how the Vietnamese students handled that (withdrawal until they were gradually coaxed out), I wonder if feeling like the outsider is typical for them even in their everyday life? I feel more compelled to believe this because, outside of “special” places like Asian food stores or restaurants, you did not see many Asians despite the Bayou having a significant Asian population (granted, I spent a total of 3 days in the area, so I am by no means an expert, but others who have been in the area longer affirmed the insular nature of the Asian communities).
I would be remiss to not reflect on our time with Robert Thrower, an ordained Southern Baptist minister and Poarch Creek Indian medicine man. What an enigma to meet a man who has been ordained and served as a pastor, evangelist and prophet for 20 years and has been a medicine man for 9 years. Of course, the big question that arose was, “Are these two beliefs compatible?” I cannot give a “yes” or “no” answer, but I can say, “Well, maybe.” To hear Robert describe his practice is to hear someone who performs traditional rituals interpreted through a Christian lens. “Sacred” plants and other items are symbolic and not at all magical. Its like using bread and wine/grape juice for communion: you could use Oreos and milk and still have the same service, or you could skip the elements altogether and simply remember the sacrifice that the Christ made on our behalf. But having something tangible, something of significance makes it easier to engage and remember. So, by Robert’s description, a traditional ceremony asking the Great Spirit for guidance is an elaborate prayer to God that involves external symbols and, sometimes, a lasting reminder such as a rock. Is this synergism or heterodoxy? Perhaps, and I think that seeing Robert’s practice in action over time would give better sight into this, but only having 3 hours of interaction with him reveals something that looks orthodox, but still leaves a little twist of apprehension at the end.
What does all this mean for me in my ministry? First, I think my experience will really affect how I view minorities in my immediate surroundings, whether they are cultural, racial, spiritual or whatever. There are dynamics of being in the minority that I can never understand, nor should I try to pretend like I do. I have to not only strive to TREAT people like they are equals, but actually LIVE like they are equals. I also have to avoid doing so in a Colonial-type of way where I view myself as the blessed benefactor who is there to share with them out of my abundance. No, instead I need to realize that I am no different; that what each of us have is what has been given us by God for his purposes. Understanding that I function as an agent of God’s kingdom is what I need to strive for.
Second (but related to the first) is that I need to review how I perceive and live out hospitality. Am I so discomfited by genuine hospitality because I have been lying to myself for many years about my willingness to share of my possessions and myself? I think the shameful answer here is, “Yes.” I think that I have unconsciously (but sometimes consciously) held back on what I had to give because I wanted to be sure that there would be enough for me and my comfort as a middle-class American. Why? The only true answer to this is self-centeredness. “I” come before “you,” which is totally not the way of Jesus. The things I labeled “mine” I need to relabel “his.”
My third takeaway stems from the previous in that I need to not only give of my things, but also of myself and develop stronger relationships with those that I wish to impact for Jesus. I am not starry-eyed enough to imagine that I can have deep relationships with each and every person I wish to impact. I know that is impossible, but I can open myself up to the relationships that God would have grow deeper. I think that I have gotten so sick of developing friendships and then having to walk away from them due to circumstances that in many ways I have become very cautious as to what relationships I allow to develop. Who am I to judge which relationships will last and which will not? I can barely see past my nose! God sees all the way into infinity, and I need to stop hindering his work by interfering with my limited sight.
Lastly, I have seen many differences in religious preference and ministerial philosophy on this trip. There are aspects in each interaction where some reservations or doubts arose, but I can also say that in each interaction the desire, or intent, to serve the Kingdom of God was there. Whether that intent was borne of the Spirit or borne of the flesh, I cannot judge, nor is it my place to. All I can do is pray that God will be at work in these different contexts, that his name will be glorified and that his kingdom will come quickly.
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