"Swift and Beautiful for Thee: Reflections on feet and community

How ironic that the hymn we sang in church the Sunday I returned was “Take My Life and Let it Be” just before I gave my “Minute for Mission” on the Turkey portion of the trip. Swift and beautiful? Slow and ugly is more like it. No need to go into details, just trust me on this. The biggest anxiety I had expressed to the team in JFK was not that we’d encounter a terrorist but that my feet would fail me and I’d be a burden to them all, not a blessing. My prayer partners were alerted to pray about this need. However, I was the recipient of a small personal miracle in places where large social ones are so desperately needed.

At the end of the first day, I wasn’t so sure of this. The long airplane ride which stiffens the joints, the mad dash through the Istanbul airport pulling all my luggage so as to make the next plane to Izmir (we had already missed the one we were scheduled to take by two hours), and then the immediate scavenger hunt up the steep hills of Izmir upon our arrival: All had punished my feet, which rebelled. My roommates prayed and I took better precautions—applying better moleskin protection, taking some Tylenol ahead of the walks, and using the walking stick my dear friend L had loaned me. From that time on, I had no trouble.

Which leads me to the heart of the matter—community. In fact, S had written to us some weeks ago that one of his goals for us was to be able to die to ourselves so as to put the others first. I certainly experienced that. K and A and S lent me their arms when the terrain was rough (as it often was), no one hurried ahead though the heat and the crowds probably slowed us all down, L and J prayed, T and C and B expressed concern in practical ways. We shared our resources—bandaids, sunscreen, Imodium, shampoo, antibacterial ointment, stamps, water, laughter, prayer, encouragement, whatever was needed. We became a community.

Let me introduce them to you. J, a fellow adjunct English prof, capable administrative assistant to S, lover of China and her family (some of whom teach in China), lover of books, lover of students who go on Treks, keeper of the accounts in three currencies (amazing!!). Under any circumstances we would have become friends. L, my other roommate, a CMA pastor’s wife—how cool is that for this 27-year veteran of the CMA —mother to busy teens who sound like such neat kids, new Urbana administrative assistant, a prayer warrior/social worker who can intuit the needs of the people around her and attempt to address them, an excellent question-asker, a brave first-time traveler abroad, a faithful journaler, a person whose energy never seemed to flag. The three of us just clicked. Later, at St. Simon, C joined us. She is a brilliant and sophisticated teenager, wordsmith, competitive gamesplayer, lover of books and the classical world, a young woman stretching towards independence who with good grace endured the mothering of three of us, and who adored her dad, A, even as she bantered back and forth with him and groaned at his puns. The other woman on the trip was T, wife of K, a gracious and elegant person whose love for those around her shines in everything she says and does. She and K made friends with a bottled water seller in Izmir, made the time to have tea with him and made sure he knew about the little church.

As for the men, S’s passion for students in projects and treks and in the indigenous locales and for the urban poor of the world controls his life, reflecting Jesus in it all. All over Mokattam, people stopped to invite him to tea and to ask about his family. He means what he says about traveling light despite the five!!! books on the Nestorians he managed to cram into his miniscule suitcase. We could not have asked for a better leader. A, who has headed up several organizations in his career, leads by being a servant. He was able to express his admiration for and love of the students (esp. in Mokattam) in ways that built them up, laying hands on them all as we prayed one night, sharing jokes and meals and the children with them. In one way he reminded me of Chuck in his desire to see everything, conquer every tourist attraction, master the maps and joke and pun. K is a world-renowned academic, but his simple care for people was most evident on this trip, whether it was in a clear explanation of a topic, a penetrating question that helped us all see below the surface, his help over broken sidewalks, his offers of hospitality to one and all. Lastly was B, who straddled the distance in age between us parents and our teen. His compelling interests are international students and technology. He used the internationals’ eyes to observe our surroundings, regaled us with stories about them, and carried heavy video equipment to record our trip. He is “giving up” a fine career as an engineer to work with international students fulltime. A motley (at least I am) crew who became a loving community.

In her discussion about the implications of Bonhoeffer and John Paul’s theology for the new millennium, Jean Bethke Elshtain says this about community: “Real community is mediated as we are stirred to love of neighbor through shared love in and through Christ. This actual community never excludes ‘the weak and insignificant, the seemingly useless people, from everyday Christian life in community,’ no, for ‘in the poor sister or brother, Christ is knocking at the door.’” (She is quoting Luther here…Who Are We? 130) . I found it to be so true in Izmir and Cairo.