From the Rector…
Several years ago, I was on a mission trip to Trinidad. We had hired two bus drivers to transport us during our time there. They were great guys who not only took us everywhere but went out of their way to show us the island and share all that they knew about their country with us. It was obvious they loved Trinidad and were passionate about the food, culture, and natural beauty of the place. They were also curious about who we were—not as Christians per se but as Americans. It became obvious to me that our American culture far outweighed our Christian culture in the eyes of our bus drivers.
Our bus drivers were not well-off individuals. They were hard-working, family men. Though they owned their buses and made a good living, neither had electricity nor running water in their homes. They lived in a rural, mountainous region of Trinidad and drove about forty minutes each way to pick us up in the morning or return to their home at night. They were never late, always early, and never complained. One night after dinner, the kids on the trip wanted to stop at a Häagen Dazs ice cream shop. Our bus drivers had never eaten Häagen Dazs ice cream and I offered to buy them something, encouraging them to pick whatever they wanted. They both choose one scoop of vanilla—the cheapest thing on the menu. I told them if that was what they wanted that was fine, but I was happy to get them anything from the menu. They reiterated that all they wanted was a scoop of vanilla.
As we sat at a table eating our ice cream together, they hesitantly asked me about the cost of things in America. They were using the ice cream as a comparison. I told them this was a bit of a splurge for me, even in America, but sometimes a treat was well worth it. That led into a deeper conversation about money and things—wants vs needs. It was in that conversation I discovered that they didn’t have electricity or running water. Both denied wanting electricity—it would just be one more thing to tend to and pay for—but only one denied wanting running water (the other told me it was a lifelong dream of his to have a water faucet inside his house). They both professed a deep satisfaction for the life they lived. On their way home they would purchase a fish from a lad selling his catch of the day on the side of the road. Their wives, respectively, would prepare that for dinner. They had plenty and their needs were always met. Their homes were small and intimate but adequately furnished though neither of them owned a mirror.
At this point in the conversation, some of the kids from the mission trip had joined us and it was the mirror, or lack thereof, that they found the most interesting. They began to ask our bus drivers questions about how you knew what you liked like, or shaved without cutting yourself, or knew if your hair was done right. I was fascinated that this was the thing the youth—both boys and girls—were intrigued by.
The basic function of a mirror is reflection. When we look into a mirror it immediately receives our image and reflects it back to us—pulling us into a perpetual cycle of receiving and reflecting until we look away. The youth were amazed that not all people found this effort useful or even valuable. But I wonder if our reliance on our own reflection is not something of a challenge to our spiritual life and capacity for community. To gaze upon oneself, even if looking for flaws, is an exercise in receiving and reflecting only that which is already there. We might look away from the mirror, but we remain enamored with ourselves. Our life becomes a reflection of the mirror we look in. Our core values, wants and needs are all influenced by the mirror that reflects our world. If the mirror only reflects what we already know how can we know anything else?
Our bus drivers saw through the mirrors we were holding on our mission trip. They saw through the misplaced values of our American culture and life. They saw that though we thought we were serving Jesus, we were simply reflecting our own image upon a world we hardly understood and did not relate too. That mission trip taught me more about who I think I am as a Christian but am perceived to be by those outside of my American values and experience. That knowledge has given me a different perspective in which to understand the way the world sees me and other Americans. Even when I am polite and friendly toward others, I am always an American. I am not apologizing for that—my awareness of this perception gives me perspective as well. I want to be seen first and foremost as a Christian—not an American—whether I am in Trinidad or at home. And if so, maybe I need to recultivate the way I perceive myself or, at least, start using a different mirror.
Light and Life,
Candice+