Sometimes Easter weekend passes and I don't really notice it much, except I get an extra Friday off. This year, however, I did a little more reflecting. And if you're reading my blog, I assume to some degree you want to hear my reflections, so here it goes.

I think Peter kind of gets a bad rap. I mean sure, he said he'd die before denying Jesus, and then a few hours later he denied Him three times. But, if I were Peter (and obviously I'm not, so this is speculation), I would feel like Jesus abandoned me first. I think Peter was genuine, but he had different ideas of what Jesus' revolution was really going to look like. And when he takes out his sword and cuts off the guards ear, he is demonstrating what he had in mind. He's ready to fight with Jesus to the end. The problem is, Jesus isn't fighting. Instead, He voluntarily lets Himself be captured, tried, and ultimately killed. I think Peter was really ready to follow Jesus, it's just that following Jesus took a shocking and dramatic shift in a few hours. If it were me, on that "good" Friday, I would feel like Jesus denied me. My point is that I don't think we should demonize Peter for what happened, because I think almost all of us would have done the same. And in the end, Jesus seemed to move past it pretty quickly. Maybe so should we.

This led me to think about "good" Friday, and how utterly awful the disciples must have felt. I mean, I cannot imagine the despair they must have experienced, as they must have gone from incredible excitement to complete hopelessness so quickly. I really think it's important to remember that time, between the crucifixion and the resurrection. Now, we know the end of the story and all, but there is something profound about the fact that this suffering and despair is part of the process of our faith. Of the "founding fathers" of our faith, you can say two simple things: Jesus suffered, and the disciples felt hopeless.

Someone once mentioned to me that perhaps the Catholic faith is overly fixated on the dying Jesus. Not that they don't believe in the resurrection or celebrate it or anything like that, but just that Jesus is often depicted and worshipped in his suffering state. I'm not really in a position to judge for certain whether or not that is a bad thing or even whether or not it is true. I did get to go to a small mass in my neighborhood on Friday, and I do feel like the suffering Jesus is more prominent in the Catholic tradition. Perhaps it goes to the simple fact that Jesus suffered at the hands of powerful people, and people in the third world find solidarity in that. In any case, I felt like the service was appropriate, and I enjoyed it.

With these thoughts in mind, I left for the campo Saturday night with the local Mennonite church. We met up with another Mennonite church out there, and together we had a late night service (until 1:00 a.m.), and then had another sunrise service (at 5:00 a.m.). On the Saturday night service, I was expecting more "setting the tone" for the service in the morning. But really, there was almost no mention of the tone of "good" Friday. They talked about the crucifixion, but only in the context of the two thieves, and what Jesus has to offer us. It was like we just rushed past the suffering and went right to the end, instead of recognizing that suffering and despair are integral parts of our faith experience. In the end, I was left with this question: it may be that the Catholic faith is fixated on Jesus' suffering, but are we so fixated on his resurrection that we forget or are unable to contemplate the dark period before it?

In some groups and circles, "solidarity" can be a common buzz word, something you drop here and there for good impressions. It sounds nice and intelligent. You might be in a group like that, and that's not what I'm trying to do on my blog.

The fact is, if you are like I was three years ago (when the word first started coming up for me in conversations), you don't really know what the word means and even less why it should be important in cross cultural relations. Sort of as a funny side note, sometimes, when I don't know what a word means, instead of looking it up in the dictionary (which would be the obvious choice), I kind of choose a word that is close to it and derive a meaning from there (even though the other word has completely different etymology). Needless to say, "solitude," "solitary," and "solitaire," did not provide any great insights.

So, obviously, my own understanding of solidarity and its significance has come about fairly recently, and is something that is now central to my stated motivations for international work.

Basically, (stealing from dictionary.com phrases), it just means a union of interests or purposes; mutual responsibility; or community of feelings. For me and my time here, it means trying to integrate myself into the life of the Bolivians around me, making their interests and feelings also part of my own.

As far as why it's important, as I have mentioned before (see posts here and here), the attitudes we have and the means we use in international work can have a profound effect on whether or not there is a positive influence. Work that comes out of a solidary relationship, rather than some sort of paternalistic approach, is much more likely to be positive.

But solidarity also goes beyond that for me. Paulo Freire (author of Pedagogy of the Oppressed), talks about how the situation for the oppressed is stripping them of their human dignity. Dignity cannot be given to them as a gift (because that ultimately contradicts itself); therefore they must work for it themselves. However, people living in situations of power and privilege are also being stripped of our human dignity because we are being forced into a system which makes us oppressors. And there is no more human dignity in being an oppressor than in being oppressed. Solidarity with the poor, therefore, also helps us to see in ourselves (and in our systems and governments) what we never see from our own perspective.

And so, solidarity actually means two things for me. 1) a supporting role in the struggle of the oppressed for a more just society, and 2) a starring role in my own struggle to see myself, my ideas, points of view, government, culture, etc. for what it really is and to rid myself of the oppressive aspects.

The last few days have been pretty mixed for me. It seems like every fun thing I get to do also comes with some bad news.

On Saturday afternoon, I went with some of the Talita Cumi kids to a sports day of sorts at the house of one of the local missionaries. We played volleyball, soccer, legos, ping pong, Foosball, etc. Then there was dinner, and a short worship service. Any chance to get outside the home with the kids is always pleasure. Unfortunately, when I got there, I found out that one of our kids, who has been sick for a while now, may actually have something a lot more serious than we previously had thought (please pray).

Saturday night, I went to a birthday party with some people from church. Any sort of festivity is always an interesting cultural experience. However, it is great to move beyond a bunch of "interesting cultural experiences," because after a while, those get old. Saturday night was really a good time. I was with people who I consider to be good friends of mine, in a situation where I felt almost completely comfortable. It was a great time. . . until I got robbed by three guys as I was walking home. (They took my watch, my belt, and about $8, but nothing else, and I was totally unharmed).

There are some missionary families who help out at Talita Cumi, and last night they invited Dovanna (the other MCCer at at TC) and me over to their house for dinner. It was a great meal, with appetizers (chips with salsa and guacamole), a main dish (lasagna and salad), and two desserts (peanut butter pie, and chocolate cake with peanut butter frosting). Not only was the food great, but it was so wonderful to be in a situation where I did feel completely comfortable. I didn't have to strain to understand the conversation, I knew the social rules. It was wonderful. However, when I got home, I found out that two MCC friends of mine who I thought were staying around for a couple more weeks, were actually leaving this morning. One of them had a brother who died back at home, so they were taking off early in the morning. They had a last minute farewell gathering, but it was already over when I got home.

*sigh*
Life is complicated.