“Le Dieu des Paradoxes” – sign over a tap-tap windshield in Port au
Prince.
“God of the Paradoxes” may be
the most theologically astute proclamation I’ve ever seen in Haiti. The tap-taps – vehicles of various sizes,
from pick-ups to school buses – nearly always carry religious proclamations of
some kind, written on the vehicle in some decorative script, often accompanied
by cartoonlike paintings of Jesus or the Virgin Mary. The statements may be specific Scriptural
citations (I saw Psalm 23 today, as well as something from Lamentations, which
seems particularly apropos). Sometimes
they’re encouraging phrases in French such as “La Grace de Dieu” (the grace of
God) or in Kreyol, such as “Bondye Bon” (God is good). Sometimes they’re less religiously oriented –
my personal favorite is, “Just Do It.”
But today, driving out of Port au Prince, we were greeted by a tap-tap
proclaiming, “Le Dieu des Paradoxes.”
That captures a theology of Haiti like nothing I’ve ever seen.
Every time I think I have some
insight about this place, other evidence comes along that contradicts what
seems clear. Haitians’ sense of
nationality arose out of the experience of slavery, rebellion, and
marginalization by the international community; but they reject comparisons
with the African American experience of ongoing struggle against historical
oppression because they call the shots in their own nation. Haiti carries poverty like a millstone around
its neck, but people are gracious and giving, practicing abundant
hospitality. Haiti has a communications
infrastructure that enables a huge percentage of the population to have cell
phones, but there is no infrastructure whatsoever to deal with trash in the
streets (other than life-threatening flooding that washes trash to the few
sewers and then clogs them beyond hope).
Life here is about as difficult as life gets on this planet, but people
understand God to be deeply, profoundly present and good – not to mention
absolutely deserving of our trust.
There’s a tie here to other profound paradoxes that are definitional to
Christianity: the first shall be last
and the last shall be first; blessed (literally in Scripture, “happy”) are the
poor and the mourners, for they shall inherit the kingdom and find joy; it is
in dying that we find eternal life. None
of these statements, about life in Haiti or the life of the kingdom, make a bit
of sense the way we look at things. And
yet, they are profoundly true – true enough that people have staked their lives
on those truths for thousands of years.
God of the Paradoxes, indeed.
9:16 p.m.
As is always the case in Haiti,
our plans have changed. We were
scheduled to offer an early-childhood education seminar tomorrow, as the group
did last year – continuing education for the preschool and kindergarten
teachers at all the Episcopal schools in this part of Haiti (about 35 teachers). Because of Hurricane Sandy, the teachers
can’t travel yet to get into Les Cayes to attend the seminar, so it’s been
postponed until Thursday (after I leave, frustratingly enough). So tomorrow, we’ll go into Cayes to procure some
supplies (a bookcase for the school, Bibles to inscribe and give our graduating
students, a Haitian cell phone, etc.).
We’ll also prepare the teachers’ packets for the seminar and assemble
the teaching materials (felt boards, soil and seeds for a hands-on gardening
lesson, blocks, and books). Then, in the
afternoon, we’ll go out to Port Salut to the beach for an evening of grilled lobster,
Compline on the beach, and a fabulous sunset.
Some parts of the experience of Haiti are pretty nice.
Tonight’s Compline was
wonderful, too. After dinner – and many
hours today of intense conversations about specific details of our mission, how
much we pay teachers, whether they should be paid for performance, the
importance of listening to the teachers about the efficacy of teacher training,
how to take best practices in early-childhood education into a third-world system
rooted in didactic instruction and memorization – after dinner, we sat on the
veranda and reflected on where God had been in our day. Some of us saw God in the resolve of poor
Haitians standing on the roadside in the wake of a hurricane, refusing to give
up as their homes and fields stand flooded.
Some of us saw God in the gifts of the Body of Christ revealed in the
somewhat motley crew that our group of missionaries always is. Some of us saw God in the blessings of the
skills of our driver, Zo, who negotiated fallen boulders, the effects of
mudslides, mountain roads with people standing in them, and rain, and still
managed to get us to Cayes safely. Along
with us, he got all our baggage there safely, too, including 12 duffels of
supplies carefully wrapped up on the top of the van. They were mostly dry – and, remarkably, not thrown to the ground – after a
grueling, jarring four-hour drive.
Finally, some of us saw God in our gathering around the table, hearing
one member apologize to another for an unintentional slight, hearing one member
speak eloquently about the family that’s forming around the table, hearing one
member pour out her heart in frustration over the insoluble realities of
Haitian life. In these, and many other,
ways, God was there. So we prayed
Compline, sang along with a recording of chant from the worship of Taize, enjoyed
a cold Prestige, and are now ready for bed.
Thank you, Lord, for a day of paradoxical blessing.
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