It has been a pretty incredible final week in India. We were able to spend some time traveling all over the country side near Coonoor: seeing the sights of Lamb's Rock and Dolphin's Nose. These are big tourist attractions but they grant sprawling views of the widening tea valleys and distant waterfalls that are worth the crowds and the wait. Most of the week I spent preparing for my final project: A sermon on the text John 12:31-36, with liberation theology emphasis, using some exegetical methods we learned from Indian scholars while we took classes here. I can't really complain about this homework assignment as I got to prepare it by walking around the market, sucking on ripe mangos as I thought about sermon topics and stories, or as I sat at the local tea cafe typing up my final manuscript. All went well and I am glad to report that, sermon already delivered and recieved, that I have officially survived my first year at Princeton Theological Seminary.
My favorite memory from this week is probably from meeting a poetically dualistic man at the nearest Chai (tea) Hut next to St. Andrews Center. It is literally a little road side stand that sells bags of fresh tea leaves, dried to perfection and mixed with local spices and herbs. I stopped by to buy a big bag of masala to bring home with me and stayed with a friend to drink a cup of hot and fresh tea for 7 rupees (about 13 cents) and chat with the proprietor. His names was Chandra and he lived in two worlds. The very name Chandra means "moon" in Hindi (one of the national languages of India) and "sun" in Tamil (the local language of Coonoor). He was a Hindu-Christian, trying fervently to embrace both faiths but struggling with the balance. He explained to me how he was born and raised Hindu and loves the traditions of the gods, narrative, colorful tales, and hospitality steeped within that culture. I shared with him my own experiences with my love for those things of Hinduism, in addition to how much the Upanishads have impacted my own spiritual growth. He recieved a tamil Bible as a gift and while reading it found so many links between Jesus peace making antics that he found it to align really well with his own Hindu mindset. So he began to embrace both worlds in tandem, a feat I respect and admire. However, his interactions with Christian missionaries in Coonoor have disappointed him in the actual practice of Christianity in India. "They drive their fancy cars and spend all of their money in the market place while simply getting up to preach on sundays. They dont treat the poor or work for peace the way Jesus did," he said. So instead he sends 100 rupees a month to a televangelist in Chennai to pray for his family. I shared with him why I was in Coonoor, and some of the things that I believe concerning the Sacred. We had a really pleasant and meaningful conversation about Hinduism and Christianity and the need in the world for authentic ministry. He asked if while I was here this summer, if I would come and pray for him and his family once a week. I said that of course I would, only if he didn't attempt to pay me. And he agreed to take me to his Hindu Temple for a fire walking festival later in this summer. I think this is the start of a beautiful relationship, full of learning, prayer, and of course, tea.
I saw the Taj Mahal today, a beautiful tomb and mosque. There is something intriguiging to me about that combination and the toruism that surrounds it. In just a few hours I am off to Istanbul, Turkey with John and Carson and then onto the UK, Iceland, and eventually the great foreign land of Alabama.
Light and love and chai,
Brittany/Muskaan
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
India Week 2
This week we traveled to Kerala, one of India's southern most states. Kerala, affectionately deemed by the locals as "Gods own country" is everything you think India should be. Think Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom meets the market place in Aladdin. Kerala is that majestic Jungle that Rudyard Kipling always wrote about. There are emerald green rivers that wind thorugh palm forests, and along them small huts and shacks dot through the greenery with their bright colored sarees drying out on the lines. Floating atop the calm water are large bowl shaped wicker boats that seem to saunter more than cruise and the trees swell with coconuts and pineapple. The air is sticky and warm and it always has a forboding sense of rain. It is elephant country as well, so naturally, we spent part of our day riding elephants. I elected to do it the Indiana Jones way: bareback, no seat belt, hands up like a roller coaster. The villages of Kerala are some of the most ancient in the country (and the people in them too-I met a man who was 102 today!) and the children are simply ecstatic to greet the visitors and take photos with them.
We spent most of our time in Kerala under the care of Mar Toma (or the church of St. Thomas). In the Acts of Thomas, an uncanonized but ancient religious text, the apostles draw lots to determine their destinations for evangelization. Thomas draws the short lot: India, and thus goes to hide in a cave to avoid his destiny. In the story, Jesus comes back down from heaven and sells Thomas into slavery, and he is thus sent to India. As a result, Thomas converts the Indian King of Kerala and plants an early form of Christianity in India. The church that exists here now clings to this tradition in an Eastern Orthodox way and currently Kerala holds one of the largest Christian populations in India. We visited some of their seminaries, met with their priests and bishops and even got to sit in on a few lectures. Later in the day we were taken to this fairly ritzy upper veranda room that over looked the River Bomba to meet what is known as the "Metropolitan of Mar Toma" which is essentially, for the St. Thomas Eastern Orthodox Church-the Pope. We all sat around him as he smiled his toothless, 93 year old smile, and told us what he wanted us to know about India and Christianity. Before we left he asked us where we thought that God was, and then he answered his own question with a giggle, "God is in the market place. We think that God is in the church, so we go there and simply find the priest. We mistake the priest for God. But God is in the market place, so go and buy bananas."
The love affair has begun. Thank you for all of your prayers and support so far.
Love and Light,
Britt/Muskaan
We spent most of our time in Kerala under the care of Mar Toma (or the church of St. Thomas). In the Acts of Thomas, an uncanonized but ancient religious text, the apostles draw lots to determine their destinations for evangelization. Thomas draws the short lot: India, and thus goes to hide in a cave to avoid his destiny. In the story, Jesus comes back down from heaven and sells Thomas into slavery, and he is thus sent to India. As a result, Thomas converts the Indian King of Kerala and plants an early form of Christianity in India. The church that exists here now clings to this tradition in an Eastern Orthodox way and currently Kerala holds one of the largest Christian populations in India. We visited some of their seminaries, met with their priests and bishops and even got to sit in on a few lectures. Later in the day we were taken to this fairly ritzy upper veranda room that over looked the River Bomba to meet what is known as the "Metropolitan of Mar Toma" which is essentially, for the St. Thomas Eastern Orthodox Church-the Pope. We all sat around him as he smiled his toothless, 93 year old smile, and told us what he wanted us to know about India and Christianity. Before we left he asked us where we thought that God was, and then he answered his own question with a giggle, "God is in the market place. We think that God is in the church, so we go there and simply find the priest. We mistake the priest for God. But God is in the market place, so go and buy bananas."
The love affair has begun. Thank you for all of your prayers and support so far.
Love and Light,
Britt/Muskaan
Friday, April 29, 2011
India Week 1
Hey all!
After a 16 hour flight, an midnight bus tour of Mumbai, a 3 hour flight, and a 4 hour mountain bus ride: we have arrived safely at our destination in Coonoor, India. A hill-top mountain town that overlooks a valley sprinkled with rows of tea gardens. It feels and looks like the Jungle book. Flowers are blooming everywhere, the air is cool and sweet, and every now and then you will spot a monkey or a wild buffalo. India as an experience to say the least. Here is an excerpt from one of my first journal entires that should give you a glimpse of my experiences so far:
"It is disturbing to me, my window. How I can press my hand against the glass and feel the sticky heat of Mumbai clinging to the pane while I, alone, stay cool in my perfectly air conditioned hotel room. It is strange to be amongst all this marble, leather, electronic gadgetry and glass; only seven stories above a vast slum. They are all there, living. The tan and swollen bellied slum dogs crawling and scaaping at every surface. the shoeless and shirtless adolescent boys playing cricket in the rubbish yard. The silver haired woman, red sari twisted up between her legs as she sqwats and whipes wet laundary against a concrete slab. The endless buzzing and honking of mumbai drivers. And me, here, on my hotel room floor. I want to play cricket with the young chums, I want the old shiva to teach me the grace of laundary by hand. But I am instructed to stay inside, where the air is manufactured and my pockets can't be picked. But how am I to learn without my feet and my hands involved? I refuse to solely let observation be my relationship with India. I want a love affair."
We are blessed, my friends. And I did play cricket and have harvested tea leaves with the locals. India and I are doing a waltz, well actually we are doing one of those little Indian jig dances where you pet the dog, screw in the light bulb and squish the bug. It has been marvelous so far. But, we are blessed, and so much of the world is not. This realization is my existence here. I will try to post once a week but the so-called wireless internet is sporadic at best and mostly nonexistent.
Know that I miss you and love you and that I am stronger with this Indian air.
Light,
Brittany/ Muskaan (the Hindi name my friend Salome gave me: It means "smiling spirit")
After a 16 hour flight, an midnight bus tour of Mumbai, a 3 hour flight, and a 4 hour mountain bus ride: we have arrived safely at our destination in Coonoor, India. A hill-top mountain town that overlooks a valley sprinkled with rows of tea gardens. It feels and looks like the Jungle book. Flowers are blooming everywhere, the air is cool and sweet, and every now and then you will spot a monkey or a wild buffalo. India as an experience to say the least. Here is an excerpt from one of my first journal entires that should give you a glimpse of my experiences so far:
"It is disturbing to me, my window. How I can press my hand against the glass and feel the sticky heat of Mumbai clinging to the pane while I, alone, stay cool in my perfectly air conditioned hotel room. It is strange to be amongst all this marble, leather, electronic gadgetry and glass; only seven stories above a vast slum. They are all there, living. The tan and swollen bellied slum dogs crawling and scaaping at every surface. the shoeless and shirtless adolescent boys playing cricket in the rubbish yard. The silver haired woman, red sari twisted up between her legs as she sqwats and whipes wet laundary against a concrete slab. The endless buzzing and honking of mumbai drivers. And me, here, on my hotel room floor. I want to play cricket with the young chums, I want the old shiva to teach me the grace of laundary by hand. But I am instructed to stay inside, where the air is manufactured and my pockets can't be picked. But how am I to learn without my feet and my hands involved? I refuse to solely let observation be my relationship with India. I want a love affair."
We are blessed, my friends. And I did play cricket and have harvested tea leaves with the locals. India and I are doing a waltz, well actually we are doing one of those little Indian jig dances where you pet the dog, screw in the light bulb and squish the bug. It has been marvelous so far. But, we are blessed, and so much of the world is not. This realization is my existence here. I will try to post once a week but the so-called wireless internet is sporadic at best and mostly nonexistent.
Know that I miss you and love you and that I am stronger with this Indian air.
Light,
Brittany/ Muskaan (the Hindi name my friend Salome gave me: It means "smiling spirit")
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