Jesus and the Mutwa Woman

I have found myself oscillating between moods this week. I am wondering if it is the deeper culture shock setting in, or if my antimalarial is beginning to make me psychotic. (One of possible side affects of mefloquin.) Honestly there are days when I am really excited about what we are doing and motivated to get more deeply into lives in our different communities, and other days when I find life here quite oppressive. Right now, I have to admit that I am really struggling with the constant staring and asking for money. I am just beginning to get a taste of just how desperate the poverty is here, as I will illustrate a bit later, but even the way I am addressed regularly by strangers on the street, is hard to deal with. The common Kirundi expression is “Mzungu, imha amahera!” Or if they can speak French they will say Mzungu, donne-moi l’argent!” Mzungu is the word for white person, and it is shouted at us almost constantly when we take a walk, or drive in the car. People, usually children, will shout and point at us to let everyone within earshot know that mzungus are in the area. The exclamatory ‘Mzungu!!” to let all know we are arriving is like an unwelcome celebrity status bestowed on us—as if exuberant fans had spotted Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie walking down the street and wanted everyone to see. I am not sure why, even in the city of Bujumbura, where westerners are not an uncommon sight, we still get this curious reaction wherever we go.

It is probably most troubling to me, because mzungu is my race. And being classified first and foremost by race is uncomfortable. (I should hardly complain about that, given what Africans have had to deal with.) Furhermore, my race is associated with wealth so the frequent rejoinder “Mzungu, give me money!’ as a standard greeting by many strangers, is to be expected, I suppose. But as much as I try to rationalize it, it exhausts me. But not so much because I don’t like to be stared at, as the sinking feeling I get that there is a strange Catch 22 to our entire mission here. Is it possible that the more we try to do to help, the more the dependency on us grows? And the more we are perceived to be the great white cash cows that our NGO’s prove to be? Even income generating and microfinance projects are all based on this principle: “Mzungu, give me money.”

OK, I will step off my high horse a minute and give you another perspective that is still haunting me to this day. Last Sunday Rebecca and I were leaving for church. We were rushing because we were late and I had been asked to help lead the worship. We pulled out of the gate of our house and I got out of the car to close it. As I did a very small boy came up to me and looked pitifully at me and said: “Mzungu, Imha amahera.” Exasperated and harried I said “NO.” and jumped in the land cruiser and shut the door. Just before I drove off, I stared into his eyes for a moment. What I saw as I sped off pierced me to the soul. “I tell you the truth, whatever you did to one of the least of these my brethren, you did unto me.” (Matt 25:40) I realized I was looking at the eyes of Christ in him, and looking back at me, I saw a person in a nice car, well fed, on the way to church to pray and thank God for his many blessings, and how fortunate he was not to be like those poor wretches on the road. --I am honestly filled with self loathing at my callousness and failure to be living a transformed life through the gospel.

I have been thinking all day about Kingdom priorities. We heard a message about Mark 5:21-43. This is the story of Jarius, the ruler of the synagogue coming to ask Jesus to heal his daughter. On the way, an unclean woman with an issuance of blood deliberately, and secretly touches Jesus’ robe to be healed. She is, but Jesus, stops and turns around, and asks her to be identified. Terrified, she steps forward and admits to her action. He says to her: “Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be freed from your suffering.” After this delay, Jesus continues on to Jarius’ house where, because of the delay, they are too late, the girl has already died. Jesus, not to be dissuaded, insists she is sleeping, goes into the room, and taking her by the hand, says: “little girl, get up.” and raises her from the dead.

The message today focused on Jesus’ timing, and the sense one might have that Jesus is not in a rush, and takes the time to be in the moment with each person. Even if it might have seemed he was going to be too late for Jarius. Ultimately Jesus’ timing led to an even greater miracle.

While this is all true, I hear something more radical in this story about Jesus’ priorities related to my experience in Burundi: In Jarius we see a good man, a faithful man, who by the standards of the world is successful. He is the leader of the synagogue, well educated, good provider, looked up to in his community. When his daughter is sick, he goes to Jesus in confidence of his power, and with due humility (kneels at his feet) asks for his help. When he asks Jesus to come, I have no doubt that many people, including the disciples remarked on what an honor it was for Jesus to have such a man as this come and fall at Jesus’ knees for healing. I have no doubt that clearing the way for Jesus to assist him was a job the disciples did with sense of urgency and defference one accords a man of Jarius’ class. “What a great endorsement awaited Jesus if he could pull this off” they might think,--Jarius himself was asking for his assistance!

In the crowd though is another person who needs healing. She is marginalized, and distained like a mutwa (pygmy) woman in Burundi. Everyone knows she is unclean. (Uncleaness was not a private matter at that time.) She was obliged to let all know her status, lest they touch her and be defiled. She would never consider herself worthy of being healed by Jesus, or having Jesus take time for her and certainly not touch her. Her solution is to just secretly touch Jesus, anonymously, not get in the way, but just get a little something for herself, unobtrusively. “He is on an important assignment to save the daughter of the head of the NGO, and could not be delayed for someone like me a wretched mutwa woman.”

But the story tells us something very different about Jesus’ priorities. When the woman touches him she is healed instantly. But Jesus, nonetheless stops the rush to Jarius’ house and asks who touched him. I can imagine that woman’s horror. She is busted and will probably be beaten for deigning to do such a thing. But she knows there is no way out so she comes forward. (Probably to the horror of the crowd and disciples.) But Jesus, seems to want to make a very deliberate point about who is first and who is last in the Kingdom of God, as opposed to what the world sees. I say his stopping was deliberate because the healing had already occurred. So whatever else Jesus is doing, it is not to accomplish that end. It seems very much a teaching point, not only to the woman, but to the crowd, the disciples and Jarius. He stops to give the woman an identity and a blessing! He acknowledges her with love, calls her daughter, and wishes her continued good health! Jesus stops his trip to save the gentleman’s daughter to heal the unclean mutwa and honor her as a dear family member FIRST. Then he continues on his other mission.

He does go on to heal the little girl as well, but his timing, to the eyes of those of us who are used to privilege might seem to be late, even if he did raise her from the dead. I also noticed that Jesus calls her little girl, but does not use the more intimate word daughter, that he used with the other woman.

I think of my son. If he gets sick here in Burundi, I would certainly be able to get access to one of the great doctor’s here. I could probably phone ahead and have him waiting for me at the polyclinique. I could rush him in the landcruiser and would probably even be moved up to the front of the line when I got there. I am a mzungu. I have here, even now, even 60 years after colonialism, the entitlement of wealth and race; or (if I flatter myself) at least the respect of those around me for the work I am doing here. What if I did have to wait in line behind everyone else, how would I feel? Cheated? Disrespected? Outraged?

When I read the story, I see myself as Jarius, with my sick child, going faithfully to Jesus, knowing he can save my son. I can imagine how Jarius must have felt when he saw what the love of Jesus really looked like. All those people that the good, pious, Jarius probably avoided noticing, or maybe helped from afar, through a local charity--the outcasts, peasants, street kids, widows, were all ahead of his child for Jesus healing touch, and his patient blessing. Jarius’ daughter was ultimately saved, but I wonder if Jarius had a change of heart from seeing the master’s priorities. “He who is first shall be last, and he who is last shall be first.” I don’t have answers, but I am finally starting to ask the right questions I think.

I do know that I want to have his eyes and heart for the forgotten here, but I think I need to start by not being in too much of a rush to get to church.

That was probably a bit long winded to make a point about the challenge of being here, constantly surrounded by so much need, that we often do not even see. We were having a conversation with the Carr’s last week (our Scottish architect friends who are building an orphanage.) Val commented to us on her concern that the orphans may need to learn to eat a different way with a new dining room, that is not all sharing one plate of food. When she asked the local supervisors of the project, they just laughed and said basically, their eating style would not change. “Every family in Burundi eats off of one plate. You learn to share and not be greedy that way.” Honestly I had never thought about just how little I understand this culture and the way it is so shaped by poverty. Again I think of the way we eat at our table here. Each of us with our own plate and more food than we could ever eat in one meal in each of the serving dishes. I laugh at my own ignorance in thinking that somehow, because we are eating rice (or plantain) and beans, we are somehow identifying with the poor in this country. But we always have as much as, or even more than we want!


I do want to include some actual news here as well:

Rebecca’s dad continues to improve from his surgery. We were even able to see him briefly on Skype tonight. He looked in good spirits, although, clearly he has had some serious surgery on his jaw. He could speak though, which was good.

We had a very difficult bit of health news here. There is a couple who has been part of our small group here. They have been gone for several months for some rest and relaxation in Thailand. When they came back this week we were told the shocking news that during a routine doctor visit, they found a mass on the woman’s lung which appears to be stage 2 lung cancer. This week they had to pack up their lives here and head back to the US for her to begin treatment. We are still reeling from the news and did what we could to pray for them and help to get them off. But it was so completely unexpected! Please keep her in your prayers. Her name is Delia.

We also went up to Bura Sera to see Jodi. We had several interviews for a performance appraisal of her position and her work with the partner. Her work at the Batwa school inspiring to see and she has so much ambition to help build their capacity. When I talked to the directors they told me the biggest challenge is to keep teachers for the school when salaries are so low. The tuition for these kids is about 5 dollars per year. The teachers payroll, for all teachers, for the whole school is $15,000 per year. They depend on grants and giving to raise the teachers’ salaries. It is hard to get. It is aggravating to me that many granting organizations are happy give to build a new school or to provide school supplies but bristle at the idea of paying teachers’ salaries. I think that should be the main priority. A good teacher can teach under a tree, but a new school building with no one being paid to teach in it, is not educating anyone. Jodi is working hard to find grants for this school whose unique mission is to educate these most marginalized children in Burundi.

We got back from Bura Sera on Saturday evening (in a torrential downpour that made the road incredibly difficult to drive on). We stayed at Jodi’s house but did have dinner with the priests in the seminary. It was great to see them although to be there during Lent meant we did not get to sit down with many of them for a meal because they were fasting. They actually fast for breakfast and lunch during Lent and only eat dinner—the priests as well as all the seminarian students. They then take the money they save from the food they are not buying to give food to the poor. What I find amazing about this is that no one around here is rich, yet they are so willing to be sacrificial to help those who are even less fortunate than they are.

Today we went to church, then had a day at Club du Lak T. We met up with the Carrs again and tried a new Ethiopian restaurant that opened up here. It was delicious and we have really been enjoying the Carr’s company. I have also appreciated seeing in them a model of generosity that I like. They do not pretend in any way to be poor but are deeply generous. The kids go regularly to the orphanage to teach children how to play with Playstations the Carr’s bought them. In their home they are always inviting many of the orphans (teenagers) over to play at their house on their trampoline. They really enjoy sharing the good things they have with other. I think I am really appreciating that way of being here more than those who are rich and feign a certain attrition to identify with the poor. “In defference to your need, I will pretend to be needy while I live here and do without things I can afford and will go back to someday when I leave.”

I think I see that to live out God’s Kingdom priorities here, for us Mzungus, is to try to embrace Jesus’ deep generosity manifested in his respect, and kindness to those who were truly suffering. I don’t want to hide my wealth, but rather learn how to share from the heart, my time, my money, my home, my culture, my savior, with openness and true joy.

I am not there yet, but my eyes have been opened.