Jesus says “anyone who comes to me I will never drive away.” Anyone. ANYone AnyONE. Never. NEVER. Never-ever.

How then dare we consider that we have the right to assess who is or is not worthy to enter the presence of the Lord, to stand before his altar? Anyone who comes will never be sent away. You can hang on to that as if your life depended on it. Your life does.

Day by day global news sources toss fresh evidence into the feeding-frenzy surrounding the clergy sexual abuse scandals currently rocking the Roman part of the catholic, Christian, Church.  Your trouble is not that media no longer protect priests, nor that society lusts after scandal, although both seem true. The damage reaches further than you presently imagine. Trouble, thy name is Legion.

Against this trouble your legions of priests and defenders will not stand. The enemy is within your very walls and admitted though your very own gates.  Your trouble is the trouble of us all, loving the lesser good, per Augustine. Evil exists in the inordinate love of a lesser good.  The lesser good is good, but only as it is good to God. As J. Philip Wogamon has written, “We love the lesser good appropriately only when we love it through our love for God.” The institution (i.e., the organization, offices, and office-holders) of the Roman church is good, but not so good as God, nor so good as the Body of Christ which is partly embodied in Christian churches throughout the world.  By loving the institution as if it were identical with God one in fact loves the lesser good.  Love becomes misdirected, away from its own well-being.  So it is with the Vatican and its defenders: loving the lesser good is taking your beautiful church away from its own well-being, its own salvation.

Like you in the Roman tradition, my branch of the church catholic (the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America) has also unwittingly admitted—even welcomed —pastors and leaders whose weaknesses have coincided with opportunity, to the everlasting horror of us all.  So has every other denomination. Yet none of the rest of us have been torn apart the way that you are being torn. We have very, very, few allegations and fewer lawsuits, while you have entire dioceses driven to bankruptcy. The difference is in how our communities deal with the unspeakable when it happens.  Shine a light, or shroud in secrecy?  Make the difficult admission, or attempt to bluster it away with denial? Secrecy and denial never work, as you are discovering to your confusion and horror.

My brothers, you are even now making mistakes that will eviscerate the credibility of all churches—Roman and otherwise—throughout the world.  You can stop the hemorrhaging, and begin the healing simply and immediately.  The work ahead will be neither easy nor painless, but it can and must be done. A faith-based organization that has broken faith is out of business.

1. Place on leave—immediately—any leader accused of betraying his people. Launch an investigation. Remove from the priesthood any leader confirmed to have abused his office.  Remove from leadership (if not the priesthood) all who knew and did nothing, or who covered-up.  Painful as this is, it is an indispensible precondition for rebuilding trust and faith.
2. Protect the victim’s privacy, and provide immediate follow-up care from a clinically certified therapist. Disclose the priest’s misconduct to the entire victimized congregation openly, honestly.  Provide pastoral care to the entire congregation, and so begin the long road towards healing.
3. Know that if there is one victim there likely will be more. Urge the others to come forward. This isn’t stirring up trouble, the trouble is already there. It won’t be over ‘til the whole truth is out. It will take a generation or more, yet the sooner you begin the sooner you will be through.
4. Require sexual abuse prevention training for all priests, deacons, religious, and all whose ministries place them in contact with children and youth.  Empower laity with the confidence to love and support their priests by holding them accountable.

Your beloved Pope has his Roman legions—battalions of staunch defenders who dismiss the evidence of shattered lives as “gossip”—yet they will not suffice for this battle, merely prolong it.  Now is the time for a kenotic act: a self-emptying as Jesus did, “not counting equality with God a thing to be grasped ” he emptied himself of the prestige and position that rightfully belonged to him. It is time to follow his example, not with individual acts of piety and mortification, flagellation and fasts and the like, but collectively, systemically, and organizationally.  Recall the fast that God chooses, “to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke.”

Our human nature leads us to race to the defense of powers that have sheltered and shaped us, given us identity and purpose. You love your church, but you are called to love God more. Instead of defending power, you are called to race to the defense of the powerless. Loyalty to the church is not the same as loyalty to God. Loyalty to God means loyalty to those whom God so loves.  Look out for the little ones. God will lead you through the rest.

INTRO: Have you ever really splurged for the sake of love?  Maybe it was a gift you gave, or an event you planned.  Have you created no-going back moment that will either take you to a new place, or leave you way, way out on a limb. Ever been there?

OPENING: Today we get to overhear such a moment. Come with me.

Come with me, to Mary and Martha’s house. The oil lamps burn clear in the velvety twilight. Savory aromas waft in from the ovens. Our mouths water. The guests arrive in gladness. We are at a dinner party, a joyous celebration at the home shared by Lazarus and his sisters Mary and Martha.

They have cause for rejoicing; Lazarus, who died, now lives. As host he who was dead now presides at the table. Jesus sits next to him. His sister Martha, typically, is apparently out in the kitchen working too hard.  Mary, typically, leaves Martha to the kitchen work while she herself basks in Jesus’ presence. Suddenly Mary excuses herself, she’s up to something, anyone can see that determined look in her eye.  There she goes….

ASIDE: As we wait for her to come back, we should understand that Jesus not only restored the life of Lazarus, but in the process spared the lives of his sisters too. In that place women were not allowed to own a home or get a job. Had Lazarus died their home and living would have passed to the next nearest relative who would have been under no legal obligation to keep the house, or provide for the 2 sisters. Homeless and destitute, they would become easy marks for slave traders and worse. Jesus saved Mary and Martha no less than their brother.

Lazarus lives. Mary and Martha are safe. This is good. Yet the attention the resuscitation of Lazarus focused on Jesus caused his enemies to get deadly serious about putting an end to him.  In less than a week, they will succeed.

In her possession Mary has a quantity of immensely valuable perfume called Nard.   She keeps it in a flask, a litran, from which we get our word “litre.”  Nard is made from an Asian herb related to what we know as Valerian.  In the Old Testament Nard perfumes a bride and the bridal chamber on her wedding day.  Some translations say Mary “bought” the nard, others that she “kept” it, perhaps as part of her own bridal dowry. However she came by it, Mary brings out her treasure for this occasion. 

And here she comes. Mary enters the room holding a large flask carved from stone, maybe alabaster.  She makes her way through the group of men reclining in the dining room, going directly to Jesus. That’s bold for a woman to do, she wouldn’t normally be in the room except to serve the food. What! She kneels at Jesus feet, She is opening the flask of nard and, oh this is unbelievable! She is actually pouring it over his bare feet, it’s literally dripping on the floor. Each drop more valuable than gold, and she’s pouring it out like water. Now she takes off her head-scarf, oh my, that just isn’t done, not at all.  Oh my, she is using her unbound hair like a towel to wipe Jesus’ feet. Shocking, that’s the only word for it.  The party goes silent. This woman has just poured away a fortune, enough to support a family for a year, it’s soaking into the floor, leaving behind only the heavy scent that will cling to Jesus for days to come.

II.  Interpretation: That Splurge wasn’t in anybody’s playbook.  The intimacy and the intensity of Mary’s action would make most people stare at the floor and squirm. Guests are wondering “What is she doing? Why isn’t somebody stopping her?” As the heady fragrance fills the house it seems no one knows what to say or do.

Singer-songwriter Billy Joel might croon “Leave a tender moment alone,” but not Judas. He who will be remembered for betraying Jesus with a kiss here objects to Mary’s display of affection.  She just poured out the worth of a YEAR’s work for a minimum wage laborer. Crazy! Judas may have been crooked as a dog’s hind leg, but I can sympathize a little.  In an awkward social vacuum somebody has to say something, right?  Judas’ problem was that he followed the money and lost track of the love.

Jesus didn’t have that problem. If Mary’s gratitude and joy move her to splurge recklessly, who are we to fault her for it? Jesus suggests that Mary’s act has achieved a greater purpose that perhaps she intended, preparing for his burial.  Jesus speaks quite gently to Judas, and to all of us who wonder if Mary’s apparent recklessness sets a dangerous precedent.

When Jesus says, “You always have the poor with you,” he in no way diminishes the imperative of care for the poor.  Years ago, after I delivered what I imagined was an especially stirring sermon against hunger, the president of that congregation rebuked me, saying “Jesus said ‘the poor you shall always have with you,’ it’s not up to us to try to change that.” Maybe Jesus had in mind Deuteronomy 15:11 which commands generosity toward the poor precisely “since there will never cease to be some in need on the earth.” The effect of Jesus’ words is to show us that in faith and in love, there is a place for BOTH devotion and discipline.

The specter of Jesus’ death makes an outrageous splurge like Mary’s strangely appropriate. Like all the best gifts, it emanates from love and expresses understanding about the deepest needs of the other.

III. Application: Mark Skinner reminds us that the gospel writer has another point to make. For John, Mary’s splurge and Judas’ response contrast true and false discipleship, as well as true and false love.  John creates a clear opposition between Judas and Mary. He is false; she is true.  His critical stinginess contrasts with her lavish devotion.  John warns against mistaking discipline for discipleship. John shows us an example of loving devotion that is nothing less than the costly, precious gift of one’s whole self—down to every last strand of hair.

That’s what makes this a real Splurge. There are things we call splurges things we buy because we feel down, or angry, or merely overlooked. At those moments Retail Therapy eases the pain, for a moment.  There are splurges we make because the people who seem to be in a position we want to be have that kind of boat, own a vacation condo there, are seen at those sort of parties and events.  Mary, by contrast, doesn’t care what anybody thinks. She holds nothing back.

Have you been there? Have you created no-going back moment that will either take you to a new place, or leave you way, way out on a limb? If you have ever really put yourself out there, with nothing held back, you were probably terrified.  What if she doesn’t want me?  What if he thinks I’m ridiculous?  What if the almighty board members laugh me out of the room and ruin me?

If you have ever put yourself out there you know what it’s like. But you did it. Even though you were terrified, you moved from fear to love. Whether it was love of a single person, or love of a cause or an ideal, you splurged and put yourself on the line. In this scripture Jesus prepares for the greatest splurge of all time. Mary’s small splurge with the perfume helped him get ready.  In Jesus’ life and death God went all out, held nothing back. God splurged.

If you have ever put yourself out there for love, you know the risks. Maybe it will be laughed off.  Maybe it will be rejected. Maybe it will be ignored. Maybe the beloved will shrug with disgust and walk away. That’s precisely the risk God took when pouring out his  life for us. It’s the risk God took when, in the person of Jesus, God took up a cross and allowed himself to be hung on it until dead.  It’s the risk God still takes, with each and every one of us, every day.  To be loved like that can change a person’s life in a million wonderful ways. We want that love…But honestly, being loved like that can also be pretty hard to take.  Since God has put everything on the table, we dare not show up with less than out whole selves, right? But  most of us naturally shy away from putting our whole selves on the line. Most of us shy away from saying God, I am totally yours, every moment, every breath, every dime, all yours.  It still scares me sometimes. I’m still moving from fear to love.  But here is the truth:  In God there is no fear. In God there is only love, and it is for you.

God’s put it all out there, nothing held back: what are we going to do? It’s our move.

By gracious pow’rs so wonderfully sheltered,
and confidently waiting come what may,
we know that God is with us night and morning,
and never fails to greet us each new day.

Yet is this heart by its old foe tormented,
still evil days bring burdens hard to bear;
oh, give our frightened souls the sure salvation,
for which, O Lord, you taught us to prepare.

And when this cup you give is filled to brimming
with bitter suff’ring, hard to understand,
we take it thankfully and without trembling
out of so good and so beloved a hand.

Yet when again in this same world you give us
the joy we had, the brightness of your sun,
we shall remember all the days we lived through
and our whole life shall then be yours alone.

By gracious pow’rs so faithfully protected,
so quietly, so wonderfully near,
we live each day in hope, with you beside us,
and go with you through ev’ry coming year.

Text by Dietrich Bonhoeffer (1906-1945), translated by Fred Pratt Green (1900-2000). This hymn appears as #626, By Gracious Powers, in Evangelical Lutheran Worship, published by Augsburg Fortress, Minneapolis MN

We need that, lest the overwhelming expanse of time, like an infinite wilderness, swallow us without a trace. The American west was like that once, unimaginably vast expanses of land stretching further than the eye could see in every direction. To make it manageable the powers-that -were devised a system of sections and quarter-sections, acres and homesteads, to make the near-infinite approachable, usable, attainable.

For all our vaunted longing for freedom, we long for limits as much or perhaps more. Infinite time and space makes us all anxious. We cannot take our bearings from immensity. so it came about that the ancients chose to parcel out time on the basis of the cycles of celestial orbits, creating years and months and weeks for our use. God has created the infinite out of God’s own immensity; it fell to humanity to create time.

To some extent the human mind can and does imagine near-infinite regression and progression in time and space. To the extent that we can apprehend an intimation of infinity, it paralyzes us. Instead we learned to organize the surrounding territories of existence into portions. Hours and days, miles and light-years all arise out of our desire–our need–to find a handle on the experiences we commonly refer to as “reality.” Another polite convention, perhaps, but indispensable to life together. I for one embrace it wholeheartedly, as a necessary fiction. With these colorful threads we may stitch together our time and space inways that allow us to establish the daily rituals by which we circumnavigate our own existence.

Some among us have divined that these threads may actually be constitutive of…well, everything. String theory, a developing branch of theoretical physics, postulates that subatomic particles are one-dimensional strings. All that we can know of our universe is woven of these one-dimensional strings.  The theory combines quantum mechanics and general relativity into a quantum theory of gravity, the Philosopher’s Stone of theoretical physicists, that which could give us vantage point for surveying all that is, was, and will be. Since string theory is widely believed to provide a consistent theory of quantum gravity many hope that it correctly describes our universe, making it the “theory of everything” our best minds long to grasp.

Whether or not these “strings” thread together the whole of existence I do not know. What I am pretty sure about is that the threads of my life (and I guess yours too) are the things that give enough definition to my days that I can function. Breakfast time, bead time, business hours, all these threads hold together the moments and meanings of life so that we can not only grasp the world around us, but feel a sense of control too. Strands of deep aubergine  dreams thread through the small hours of the morning.  The merry spirit of an unexpected guest weaves a line of yellow at midday. The hem of  our public lives we bind with threads of  degree programs, tenure, seniority, retirement, in thousands of colors and weights.

The cut-offs are arbitrary. The lines, the strings the threads little more than mutually agreed upon conventions not too dissimilar from imaginative child’s play in which the playmates agree that one corner of the living room is the store, another the doctor’s office, and still another the school.   So too with wishing you a Happy New Year. Today is as good a day as any other to stitch a line in time, a marker to help us find our bearings.  From threads such as these we weave our lives, in patterns beautiful and terrible, but most often unremarkable. the wonder comes in that they are the moments and places that bind us together in a shared experience of time and space and place, the vessel in which we receive the gift of love, not as a thin one-dimensional string, but as the very ground of our being.  A distinguished academic, in his last days in the existence we commonly call “ours,” whispered to his loved ones that the experience was one of being “suspended in grace…and dependent on love.” These are the real threads of our existence, holding together our days and our deeds, seamlessly linking heaven and earth, the here and the hereafter.

Threads. Strings in theory, time and space as real as we can know it. Sheer gift, all of it.

The children and their mothers were expecting us. They smiled, knowing Pastor Agabus and the elders of Majami’ar Almasihu (LCCN) had come to see them, bringing visitors. The van eased to a stop in the remote village of Polchi, an hour’s drive off the nearest paved road. When the visitors stepped out of the van the shrieking began. In the arms of her mother one terrified toddler screamed, “Make them go! Make them go!” The more her mother and the other women tried to calm her, the harder she cried. The last time people with pale colored faces visited Polchi this little girl was not yet born. Never in her life had she seen such a strange thing. Without television, magazines, storybooks, or newspapers there was little chance of her ever seeing a photograph of European-colored skin. So, sensibly, she screamed.

This small moment illustrates the value of the accompaniment model of global mission. When Pastor Agabus Malanchan and the congregation elders Thomas, Joseph, and Felix first reached out to the villagers their familiar faces and shared language (Hausa) aided the work of introducing Jesus among both “traditionalists”, people who follow the traditional tribal religions, and adherents of Islam.

In Gada’Yula, another mission outpost we visited, the villagers had many questions for us. What does the God of Jesus have to say about revenge? What about anger? What does Jesus mean when he says that to be angry is the same as murder? In Hausa and in English Pastor Agabus and I strove to offer faithful responses to pastoral concerns as old as Cain and Abel. When I made reference to a Bible story the flash of recognition on their faces told me we were one people: we live by the same stories, we struggle with the same sins, we seek the same wisdom. We are one.

In that moment I experienced live theological truth. Since I was a teenager I’ve believed in “the mystery of God’s purpose for the fullness of time, the unity of all…in Christ.” (Eph.1:10) Now I have experienced it in person, in the against-all-odds fellowship of people who themselves might once have screamed at the sight of me, or I of them. The glory of God shimmers, just a little, in the oneness of God’s own people.

NB: Current upload speeds range between 20-30 kpbs. The accompanying pictures (worth at least a thousand words!) will have to wait.

I. Sandals and Politics
Kris Perry left early this morning to return to Abuja where she will meet the rest of our group. Her skill with logistics cannot be praised enough! In her absence Marcus and I walked beyond the gates of the Dogon Dutse compound to the nearby intersection where many shopkeepers offer their wares. Marcus bought sandals, after a lengthy deliberation. He had never seen so many types of flip-flops/sandals, ever.

The shopkeeper shared with us his keen interest in politics. First he wanted to know “How is your Barak doing?” We talked about the hopes of Americans and Africans, then he asked us, point blank, “Why is that Bush not in jail? What are you doing about that?” Our due-process answers failed to satisfy his sense of outrage over what he perceives as years of election fraud and war crimes. He seemed to feel personally betrayed by George W. Bush. I understood better when he turned to identifying what he most appreciates about the United States: freedom under the rule of law. Bush, whom he saw as flouting the rule of law, undermined the very thing the shopkeeper sees as most precious, laws that apply to all people, regardless of status or wealth. The shopkeeper, who I will not name for his safety, went on to identify Nigeria’s worst problem: “everyone is out for themselves.” “In the US,” he stated, “People will die for their country. In Nigeria, no one will die for their country, or anyone else, but only for themselves. This is our biggest problem, it keeps us from being free.”

Having thus acquired both shoes and wisdom, we turned back towards the guesthouse. The goats grazing in the used-car sales lot considered us, then continued nosing about in the drainage ditch. After crossing the road without loss of limb (no small accomplishment) we picked up a package of crisp banana biscuits, a locally made treat. Yesterday evening we joined Dorthea Hustoft Hamman in the parsonage to make a pan of all-American brownies for a school function. Most of the brownies will make it to school for Culture Day, but not all. > Grin<

II. Close to the Ground: Beauty and the Bugs

Marcus and I share a keen interest in the natural world. Together we have photographed stunning flowers, fruits, and intriguing insects. Our entomological favorites? How about that 8” millipede? Personally I was attracted to the green mantis-like leaf insect. Yet watching an army of ¼” ants carrying off a vanquished foe more than 4x their size intrigued us, as did the 4” slug on the wall of our cottage.

We’ve discovered we really like the giant white Nigerian yams, the ivory-colored sweet potatoes, and the golden potatoes served up as “chips” (French fries). We consider the flavor of the local rice far superior to the stuff we have at home. Spicy tomato sauce over mashed yams now makes our mouths water. At breakfast we enjoy toast with homemade peanut butter. For treats—bitter lemon soda and pineapple-flavored soda are new favorites. Diet Coke is hard to find, and expensive. Pastor Benjamin found some and gave it to us as a welcome gift. Kris and I sip it sparingly.

III. Collegiality Observed

A month ago one of the area pastors lost his wife to heart failure, leaving him with five children (ages 1, 6, 10 12, and 19), a fast-growing congregation, and two “satellite” mission stations to attend in the midst of his grief and loss. Last night six of his pastor-colleagues from throughout the region travelled for ours in order to spend an evening with him, comforting him, praying for him, supporting him. Would that such love and support were available for all our pastors.

Even in the center of a 4-million citizen urban area, there is beauty

In traffic

October 25, 2009

Enjoying a fund-raising dinner at Hillcrest School last Friday night gave richer meaning to the term “multi-cultural.” Here in the heart of north-central Nigeria the students and parents prepared a delicious Southwestern Fiesta. Yes indeed, Danes, Brits, Canadians, Nigerians, Cameroonians, and Americans served tortilla chips with salsa, fajitas, rice, and non-alcoholic sangria. The proceeds of the Tex-Mex feast support the sophomore class raise money for their class trip to Turkey.  The global village learned Texas line-dances together, did the Macarena, and took a swing at colorful piñatas suspended from the basketball hoops.

One small set-back occurred late Saturday night.  My pajamas were chewed to shreds.

Fortunately, I was not in them at the time. It seems the guard dogs who roam the grounds after 10:30 PM each night took a fancy to my blue ‘jammies, plucking them right off the clothesline here at the Dogon Dutse Guest House, an urban retreat operated by the Lutheran Church of Christ in Nigeria.  From the looks of things the pups thought my pajamas made a fine tug and chew toy.  Note to self: no more laundry on the line overnight.

Canine security comes as a surprise for some guests. The presence of 6-8 large dogs roaming the compound means none of us leave our cottages after 10:30 PM.  There is a reason for their presence.  The on-site director who runs the Guest House and pastors the congregation had an armed intruder in his home a few months ago. The threat of sectarian violence still lingers from last November, when the compound was under assault and had to be evacuated.

October 27, 2009

Nowhere in West Africa—or perhaps the entire continent—will you find another institution like the Theological College of Northern Nigeria (TCCN).  This one of a kind institution began as a non-denominational seminary in the late 1960s. Today 13 distinct denominations own and operate the college, joined by two other denominations (Anglicans and Presbyterians) as associate members of the organization.  Together tthese 15 faith “families” learn and challenge one another theologically. While TCNN educates many pastors for parish service, even more students go forth to serve in government and industry. The governor of the heavily Muslim Plateau State, for example, is a TCCN graduate, as is the director of the state television station. In this way TCNN intentionally integrates faith and daily work, equipping faithful Christians to be in relationship with professional associates of many faiths, bearing witness and fostering unity in society as well as in the churches. Brilliant!  Might ELCA Lutheran adults actively seek out spiritual formation if it were as pragmatically focused as this?

Speaking opportunities come unexpectedly in Nigeria. After chapel at TCNN I discovered myself giving an impromptu greeting to the faculty and student body. That immediately gave way to an unexpected gathering of all the Lutheran students on campus.  The burning issue they wished to discuss was the ELCA’s vote on sexuality issues last August.  Some of the students feel a sense of betrayal that the very people who brought the Gospel to Nigeria are now departing from it.  “Martin Luther,” he confidently asserted, “ must be rolling in his grave!” That speaker fervently offered Biblical citations to match what we hear from some of our brothers and sisters in the United States.  How difficult it is for any of us to see through the “eyes” of another, to understand as we have been understood.

In the last two days my fellow travellers and I have begun exploring health care issues, one of our interests here.  Earlier this year the United Nations Foundation asked Lutherans to work on an anti-malaria initiative. In August 2009 the ELCA Churchwide Assembly adopted it overwhelmingly. Minneapolis is one of the pilot synods charged with developing strategies and partnerships to reduce the incidence of malaria world-wide. Today we have heard one leader describe it as a modest problem, acute in some places, but generally manageable. He also acknowledged that getting people to use bed-nets in rural areas where many people share one tiny hut is difficult. A long-time resident of Nigeria who has suffered several rounds of the disease herself likens it to the common cold: get a fever, take chloroquine, get over it. Except for pregnant women. Malaria and maternity do not mix. Infants born of mothers with malaria seldom survive. Later in the day a congregation president from here in Jos returned to follow-up on a conversation we had yesterday. He sees malaria not only as perhaps the most serious health issue in Nigeria. His urgent concern is to halt the spread of the disease. He speaks not only for the sufferers,  but also considers how powerful a witness to the love of God it would be if the churches could make a meaningful contribution to malaria prevention.

Wednesday, October 22

The Dogon Dutse (“high and rocky”)  guest house compound seems like an island of relative serenity in the midst of a bustling city ruled by fearless motorcycle riders and daring drivers, vying to get ahead of one another on the road. Scores of satellite dishes turn their faces to the African sky like bleached sunflowers. Beside them clothes lines flutter with banners of t-shirts and polo shirts marked with the logos of teams and businesses from abroad. I am told local business people purchase used clothing by the bale from Goodwill and other US charitable organizations, then re-sell it in the markets of Nigeria.  By contrast, the exquisitely colored local fashions are carefully made and beautifully tailored. Women and men alike look regal in their brilliant costumes.  I caught a glimpse of a Nigerian TV ministry earlier today. In it the preacher was talking about how important it is for husbands and wives to dress pleasingly for the sake of one another. 

Tuesday, October 21

Three-thirty AM an all is well.  Here in Jos, Nigeria that means the roosters are crowing, the watchdogs in charge of the compound are barking their commentary while the local Muezzin calls followers of Allah to prayer. Slug-a-bed that I am, none of these voices compel me to rise further than this keyboard. I am too comfortable beneath my mosquito-net canopy. More to the point, breakfast (read: coffee) will not be served for hours yet.

Everywhere a charcoal haze from thousands of outdoor cooking fires flavors the air. I’ve learned that even the super-rich who build palaces for themselves with massive gourmet kitchens still build an outdoor kitchen. The women refuse to cook indoors when the activity (and the flavors) so obviously belong to the outdoor cooking fires. It is comfort, tradition, and…delicious!