When my father was a small child, a missionary visited his Sunday School class. After the presentation, the missionary asked if anyone wanted to be a missionary someday. My dad was the only one to raise his hand.
He never made it to the mission field. He became a pastor and served parishes in the United States. Since his death, several missionaries from his class told me that there were only two people who faithfully wrote them personal letters while they were in the mission field. One of them was my father. Though his feet never touched the soil of a mission field, he honored his promise from Sunday School days as well as he could.
Last Sunday, as I visited the Kilolo parish as the guest preacher, I was given a great honor. This was my second visit to this congregation. The very first Sunday in Iringa was spent at the Kilolo parish. It was where I was first introduced to the auction of chickens after worship. During worship, they gave me a piece of fabric to make a shirt and announced that I was now a member of the Kilolo parish. I am not only visiting Africa, I am now a member of an African church.
As the congregation greeted me with applause and singing, I couldn't help but think of my dad. Maybe, in some small way, I'm now fulfilling that promise he made so long ago. I am preaching in a foreign land, a former mission field. I am a member of the Kilolo, Tanzania parish. I have travelled where my father could not, preached where he wished he could have, and become a part of the church in a developing country.
Dad, I do this for you. I can't help but think he is smiling and heaving a great sigh of contentment from his heavenly perch. "My son has continued my calling." Maybe this is only the beginning. Who knows what the next generation will do with this calling?
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Friday, February 22, 2008
Sights, Sounds and Smells of Tanzania
I realize that, in this blog, I've only been sharing events I've witnessed while in Tanzania. Yet, everyday, there are similar sights, sounds and smells that remind me I'm in Tanzania. To help give you a sense of everyday life, I'd like to share some of the impressions I regularly experience.
In the quiet, I hear the cawing of the black and white crow.
Car horns constantly honk as traffic moves through the main thuroughfare.
Music is everywhere - church choirs, radios, people singing their own songs.
Several times each day I hear the muezin calling from the mosques for prayer. I have to be honest with you, these muezins will never make it to Mecca. At 5:30 this morning, I was trying to decide whether I was hearing a mosquito buzzing or a call to prayer. I think it was a call to prayer.
I see school children in bright colored skirts, sweaters and slacks, walking briskly to school at 6:30 a.m. and returning home around 3:00 p.m.
I see women in colorful katangas (wrap around skirts) and matching head scarfs.
I hear the constant babble of voices in the market.
And the occasional voice from the vendors as Gary Langness walks by, "Hey Gary, my friend!" I think he's been here too many years.
In the market I see the bright colors of bananas, pinapple, mango, tomatos and onions. The pungent smell of fish, fresh and dried.
I hear the rain as it rolls across the green, rock covered hills around Iringa, blowing its way into town.
I see the mud covered walls of homes in the villages, the grass roofs filtering the smoke from cooking fires inside.
The red brick, long walls of churches, their shining metal roofs gleaming in the sunshine, used truck tires hanging from trees for bells.
I smell charcoal burning in little, round, hibachi-type grills, preparing to cook the daily meal.
I see the red, hard-packed roads with deep ruts and pot-holes, snaking through the countryside.
And I hear laughter, always laughter. Every conversation, whether in Swahili or English, is punctuated with generous laughter.
As one group of visitors from St. Paul was preparing to leave, they joined Don and Eunice Fultz of Bega kwa Bega for a meal and conversation about their trip. Several members of the group wept as they recalled their impressions of poverty and the simple life of the people in the villages. Compared to their wealth and comfortable lifestyle, they wondered what they could do to make a difference.
A member of the Iringa Diocese staff, when it was his turn to speak, gently asked these people not to weep for the Tanzanians. They had everything they needed. Sure, they were poor, but they were happy. Instead, weep for people who have more than they need, because wealth has a way of masking what is truly important in life.
Sights, sounds, smells - and lessons to learn.
In the quiet, I hear the cawing of the black and white crow.
Car horns constantly honk as traffic moves through the main thuroughfare.
Music is everywhere - church choirs, radios, people singing their own songs.
Several times each day I hear the muezin calling from the mosques for prayer. I have to be honest with you, these muezins will never make it to Mecca. At 5:30 this morning, I was trying to decide whether I was hearing a mosquito buzzing or a call to prayer. I think it was a call to prayer.
I see school children in bright colored skirts, sweaters and slacks, walking briskly to school at 6:30 a.m. and returning home around 3:00 p.m.
I see women in colorful katangas (wrap around skirts) and matching head scarfs.
I hear the constant babble of voices in the market.
And the occasional voice from the vendors as Gary Langness walks by, "Hey Gary, my friend!" I think he's been here too many years.
In the market I see the bright colors of bananas, pinapple, mango, tomatos and onions. The pungent smell of fish, fresh and dried.
I hear the rain as it rolls across the green, rock covered hills around Iringa, blowing its way into town.
I see the mud covered walls of homes in the villages, the grass roofs filtering the smoke from cooking fires inside.
The red brick, long walls of churches, their shining metal roofs gleaming in the sunshine, used truck tires hanging from trees for bells.
I smell charcoal burning in little, round, hibachi-type grills, preparing to cook the daily meal.
I see the red, hard-packed roads with deep ruts and pot-holes, snaking through the countryside.
And I hear laughter, always laughter. Every conversation, whether in Swahili or English, is punctuated with generous laughter.
As one group of visitors from St. Paul was preparing to leave, they joined Don and Eunice Fultz of Bega kwa Bega for a meal and conversation about their trip. Several members of the group wept as they recalled their impressions of poverty and the simple life of the people in the villages. Compared to their wealth and comfortable lifestyle, they wondered what they could do to make a difference.
A member of the Iringa Diocese staff, when it was his turn to speak, gently asked these people not to weep for the Tanzanians. They had everything they needed. Sure, they were poor, but they were happy. Instead, weep for people who have more than they need, because wealth has a way of masking what is truly important in life.
Sights, sounds, smells - and lessons to learn.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Preacher Tom
For my first six Sundays in Iringa, I've attended worship in different churches every week. I've listened to Don Fultz preach. I've listened to Gary Langness preach. Finally, they said to me, "Tom, it's time to get off the bench and into the game." So today, I preached.
I felt confident going into the day. I had my sermon down cold. It was good. I was going to preach on stewardship. We have been told by the leaders of the Iringa Diocese that Tanzanian Lutherans don't know much about stewardship. So I was going to preach a stemwinder. And I did. I had them nodding and saying "amen," and answering questions. It was a good sermon. They were motivated. They told how they would respond to the question, "What will I do with my abundance?" I felt great.
But what a surprise I had in store for me. During the auction after the first service, the only item to be auctioned was a bag of pumpkin leaves. Pumpkin leaves! Have you ever eaten pumpkin leaves? No need to try.
So I preached even harder in the second service. They were with me the whole time. One young lady even committed to give 50% of all her earnings to the work of the Lord. What a sermon. It was working.
Until the offering. Would you believe, all that was given for the auction was a bag of green beans and a half dozen tomatoes? I guess I needed humbling. I hadn't bowled them over like I thought. It was a zero chicken Sunday. It was good for me.
But in two weeks when I preach again......
A great memory occurred at the end of the second service, almost by accident. The local pastor found out that an elderly lady had come that Sunday to be baptized. He asked if I would baptize her. What a thrill. She was first invited to the church by her grandchildren. A granddaughter brought her forward for baptism. She could hardly stand, but she answered all the questions and in front of the entire congregation, asked to be baptized. What powerful words they were to say her name followed by, "I baptize you in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit." She may remember that she was baptized by some gray-haired white guy. I'll forever remember the joy on her face as she rested in the promises of God. "Lord, now let your servant depart in peace, for my eyes have seen your salvation..."
Who cares if it was a zero chicken Sunday. The baptism was worth the whole day.
The Elusive Chicken!Sunday, February 10, 2008
Odds and Ends
CHURCH
Another Sunday in Tanzania brought a three and a half hour worship in the village of Ihemi. We had three baptisms, communion and all of the other goodies that go with worship. The announcements alone were almost an hour. But it must have been a very good worship. The auction of items given during the offering included firewood, charcoal, a bag of potatoes, a bucket of tomatoes, corn and TWO chickens. That's right, it was a two chicken Sunday! A first in my experience.
FUND RAISING
Last night, Don and Eunice Fultz, Gary and Carol (she arrived on Friday) Langness and I attended a fundraiser for a new church building for one of the local parishes. It started at 7:00 in a beautiful banquet hall. We were told we would eat at around 8:00. We sat at a table, our ears being assaulted by loud music for two hours, before the guests of honor arrived. The guests of honor were that because they were the heavy hitters, the big money. Speeches were made by the dignitaries, including the bishop and the local political leader, more music was played and sung, and then the fundraising began. It's now 10:00. No food yet.
As a professional fundraiser (Philanthropic Adviser, you know) I was interested to know how they intended to raise the money. Their goal for the night was around $20,000. This is how they did it. With a video camera displaying its image on a large screen in the front of the hall, bright spot lights and a microphone, the lead fundraiser went around the room, person by person, and asked each person to tell what they were going to give to the project. They started at our table! At 11:45 they still weren't finished, but we had made our pledges, so we left for the night. We still hadn't eaten.
We were told the next day that they raised a little more than $15,000 with more pledges from absent people coming in.
MY WORK
My intentions in coming to Tanzania were to work with Tumaini Univeristy Iringa College on their strategic planning processes. The thought from many bright people who had visited in previous years was that Tumaini was a great school that needed a little help to plan for its future.
Much to my surprise and delight, I found that in the past year great strides had been made in their planning. Dr. Richard Lubawa, a recent PhD graduate of Luther Seminary, is doing a terrific job, leading the planning efforts. I read through the second draft of their strategic plan, being as critical as I could be, and then sat with Richard for a conversation. Believe me, he knows what he's doing. Not only is the current document very good, but they plan to revise and tighten it two more times before they are done. Every suggestion I made, he had considered and made plans to do before I arrived. My work with them was done within two and a half weeks.
Since then, I've been working with the Iringa Diocese on their planning processes, particularly as they relate to their partnership with the St. Paul Area Synod. Bishop Mdegella has repeatedly said that two things that will be required of the Iringa Diocese moving forward are transparency and accountability. He has learned from the partners in St. Paul that they have expectations of the diocese and its organizations to use the funds given wisely and for their highest priorities.
To that end, I have developed, with the diocese, a series of three simple forms to help congregations, secondary schools, hospitals, orphanages, dispenaries and any other form of the Iringa Diocese establish their highest priories. With diocese approval, once these priorities are established, they will be encouraged to contact their partner congregations with an official request
for a specific project. Also, on an annual basis, a progress report is to be made to the partner congregation in St. Paul, updating them on the progress of the project and the use of their funds. I have been meeting with pastors, treasurers and other diocese leaders, teaching them how to plan and how to use these forms.This has been most fulfilling. I can clearly see how this will help organizations in the Iringa Diocese. I trust it will also be very helpful with the partners in St. Paul.
Other than that, I've helped host groups as they visit from the U.S. I've eaten in many people's homes. I've made a great many friends among the Tanzanian Christians here. And starting next Sunday, I will begin preaching in village churches. I think I'm ready.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
Pastor Laiton
Pastor Laiton is the parish pastor at Ndule, a parish about a half hour from Iringa. He was formerly the district pastor, an administrative role responsible for one-seventh of the pastors and congregations in the Iringa Diocese. He and his wife prayed to God that the bishop would decide to return him to a parish instead of his role of district pastor. Pastor Laiton never told the bishop, he just prayed to God. Just over a year ago, God answered his prayer and he was assigned the Ndule parish.
He is JOYFUL in his work! And let me tell you what he does. The Ndule parish has the main church and seven preaching points. He manages a staff of eight evangelists who preach and evangelize in the areas of the eight churches. Since he is the only pastor, communion is only served when he is available, so he moves between preaching points on his motor bike. There are buildings to build for the preaching points, people to serve with pastoral care, meetings of the elders and all of the other administrative and pastoral functions you would associate with being a pastor. That alone is a full-time job.
But he's only getting started. Around the main church building and his home is a two and a half acre plot of land he farms by hand. That means he plants the crops - rows of maize with sunflowers, beans and pumpkins planted between the rows - hoes and harvests the crop, all by hand. He raises a goat (soon to deliver young ones), four pigs (three with piglets), chickens (with tons of little chicks running around), a cow and some sheep. Strategically placed around the shamba (acreage) he has planted fruit trees. He also has a nursery started with other trees and plants to be placed in the proper spots when the time is right.
He's still not done. Some distance from his home is another twenty-two acre plot. This isn't planted, yet, but will be planted, by hand, in more crops. He has a third farm, some two hours away in his home village, where he also plans to plant more crops and raise the cow and sheep.
He has plans to plant a group of banana trees in a year and a half. So he starts now. First, he digs a hole about one and a half meters deep and fills the bottom with manure. Next he fills it with water, because the manure holds water better than soil. He also builds a trench to the hole so that rain water will fill it with more moisture. In a year and a half, he will finally plant the banana trees which will be able to withstand drought, because they have their own water supply.
When he was asked if he gets any sleep, he said he sleeps about four hours a night. And remember, he is JOYFUL in his work!
At a one-day seminar for pastors, Bishop Mdegella told all of them that they each need to have two acres of land to plant crops near their church. In addition, they all need to plant one acre of fruit trees. The food they grow to eat or sell will supplement their meager salaries. Tumaini University, through its agriculture institute, is setting up demonstration plots for theology students. That way, while they are studying to be pastors, they will also learn how to be good farmers.
The new head of secondary schools told me that as much as 65% of the tuition paid by students to attend one of the diocese secondary schools "goes right back into their stomachs." He is proposing each school get a farm, employ the students to help farm it and harvest the crops to feed the students. One five hundred acre farm on good soil and managed well, would likely produce enough corn and vegetables to feed the students at all seven secondary schools.
What impresses me about Pastor Laiton, the bishop's request of pastors and the plans for secondary schools, is that they are all lead to self-sufficiency. All are deeply appreciative of the work we do with them from the St. Paul Area Synod. But our work here is a two-way street. There is so much we can learn from them. They are bright, industrious, innovative, hard-working people who can teach us many things about life and ministry. It is a gift to be here.
He is JOYFUL in his work! And let me tell you what he does. The Ndule parish has the main church and seven preaching points. He manages a staff of eight evangelists who preach and evangelize in the areas of the eight churches. Since he is the only pastor, communion is only served when he is available, so he moves between preaching points on his motor bike. There are buildings to build for the preaching points, people to serve with pastoral care, meetings of the elders and all of the other administrative and pastoral functions you would associate with being a pastor. That alone is a full-time job.
But he's only getting started. Around the main church building and his home is a two and a half acre plot of land he farms by hand. That means he plants the crops - rows of maize with sunflowers, beans and pumpkins planted between the rows - hoes and harvests the crop, all by hand. He raises a goat (soon to deliver young ones), four pigs (three with piglets), chickens (with tons of little chicks running around), a cow and some sheep. Strategically placed around the shamba (acreage) he has planted fruit trees. He also has a nursery started with other trees and plants to be placed in the proper spots when the time is right.
He's still not done. Some distance from his home is another twenty-two acre plot. This isn't planted, yet, but will be planted, by hand, in more crops. He has a third farm, some two hours away in his home village, where he also plans to plant more crops and raise the cow and sheep.
He has plans to plant a group of banana trees in a year and a half. So he starts now. First, he digs a hole about one and a half meters deep and fills the bottom with manure. Next he fills it with water, because the manure holds water better than soil. He also builds a trench to the hole so that rain water will fill it with more moisture. In a year and a half, he will finally plant the banana trees which will be able to withstand drought, because they have their own water supply.
When he was asked if he gets any sleep, he said he sleeps about four hours a night. And remember, he is JOYFUL in his work!
At a one-day seminar for pastors, Bishop Mdegella told all of them that they each need to have two acres of land to plant crops near their church. In addition, they all need to plant one acre of fruit trees. The food they grow to eat or sell will supplement their meager salaries. Tumaini University, through its agriculture institute, is setting up demonstration plots for theology students. That way, while they are studying to be pastors, they will also learn how to be good farmers.
The new head of secondary schools told me that as much as 65% of the tuition paid by students to attend one of the diocese secondary schools "goes right back into their stomachs." He is proposing each school get a farm, employ the students to help farm it and harvest the crops to feed the students. One five hundred acre farm on good soil and managed well, would likely produce enough corn and vegetables to feed the students at all seven secondary schools.
What impresses me about Pastor Laiton, the bishop's request of pastors and the plans for secondary schools, is that they are all lead to self-sufficiency. All are deeply appreciative of the work we do with them from the St. Paul Area Synod. But our work here is a two-way street. There is so much we can learn from them. They are bright, industrious, innovative, hard-working people who can teach us many things about life and ministry. It is a gift to be here.
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