Tag Archives: language

August 28: Caring and L’Arche II – Reclaiming Care, part 1.

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James Cuming leads the Canterbury-based L’Arche Kent Community. Today and tomorrow we have his thoughts on ‘Care’ as it is lived out in L’Arche.

“Care”. The word promises so much yet its outworking can be so clinical.

L’Arche is an intentional faith community of mutually concerned, crazily diverse human beings. But we’re also an accredited, approved, qualified, rigorously inspected agency of health and social care. We’re a service provider and we deliver our service to service users. We practise care on clients. We’re a delivery agency, a utility company. Customer satisfaction is important to us. Why? Because we’re G-R-R-R-EAT! Because you’re worth it. Because I’m lovin’ it.

When did care move from being a verb to become a noun? When did care stop being something you felt and became something you delivered – a commodity – something to be traded, quality assured, ‘rigorously tested’, measured, accredited. When did society first start ‘doing’ care to people?

I’m being facetious. Care as a noun of course has a valid and entirely different definition to that of the verb. Providing ‘care’ to someone with particular needs enables the individual to live life with more freedom and independence which in turn offers more opportunity for them to care about—and be cared—for by another human being.

The great observation by Jean Vanier 50 years ago which led to the founding of the first L’Arche community was something so simple and obvious that it almost makes you wonder what all the fuss is about: when two people are genuinely and mutually concerned for one another, involved with one another, care for one another, both will change, both will grow.

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August 14: Inter-Galactic Explorations XXXI: Chewing it over.

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who would not sit under the apricot tree?

‘Have you noticed,’ said Ajax, wolfing down a flake of haddock, ‘how Abel likes to use all his words, but Will and Mrs T, who know thousands more, can sit under the apricot tree quite happily without saying a word?’

‘Do they need to speak to tell each other they are there?’ wondered T. ‘Of course not. But maybe Abel needs to tell himself he is in the presence of a digger, a train, or two black dogs.’

‘You mean he is telling himself his own story?’ interrupted Ajax, giving Alfie time to think how to respond to T’s probing remark about the two black dogs.

‘When he was little, he was just living his story. You remember how he just loved you two. No words from his mouth but plenty of glee. And you guys were on another plane, playing with him without words – until you pretty much forced him to say “dog”. Now when he picks up his toy bus, he says “bus” and “door” and makes a brrrrm noise when he pushes it across the floor.’

‘Are you saying he was better not speaking?’ challenged Ajax.

‘Of course not!’ T replied. ‘He’s not just a bundle of nerve-endings like the Builder’s Dog.’

‘You didn’t see BD outside Peter’s Fish Factory. He had abandoned Will and was sitting actually on a student’s knee. The ladies seem to like him as much as he likes them.’

‘He’s still a bundle of nerve ends. He could ignore her completely if he was out with his mistress.’

‘Director, you are too cynical!’ Alfie countered. ‘Maybe the Ossyrian scientific diet has trimmed your nerve ends too much.’

This time it was T’s turn to conceal his thought processes. ‘Not all my nerve ends, Alfie, not all of them; but what has Earthly life done to yours?’

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Inter-Galactic Explorations XXVII: Two Black Dogs.

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T gathered the dog leads ready to rush along the promenade towards the retreating chihuahuas, but he could not leave the beach without the ritual of saying ‘bye bye’ and ‘pa pa’ to Abel – using both English and Polish, but the little lad was, for once, too busy to join in. He was pointing at the distant dogs and repeating the words ‘two black dogs’.

‘Two black dogs?’ wondered T. He could only see one mostly black dog and one white and tan; no-one could call Ajax black. So who had Alfie been talking to that he needed to blank T out?  As leader of the Ossyrian expedition, T had to find out more.

But not a word, not a flashing thought, came through from either of his subordinates. ‘Well’, mused T, ‘Abel surely knew what he was talking about and he is too young to tell lies. Who was the second black dog? And what was stirring in Alfie that he and Ajax needed to conceal?’

Something other than calculated scientific observation was going on at 30 cm above ground level. They had been sent as a team of scientific observers, but right now it seemed that the chihuahuas had gone native in a big way, refusing to communicate all that they knew to their Director.

 

 

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4 June, Pentecost: A Young Missionary’s Prayer.

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I’ve been saving this post for months now, but it seemed most appropriate for Pentecost. Patrick Kalonji Kadima is a young Congolese man training to become a Missionary of Africa in Ghana, a long way from home. This post is taken from letters he wrote to his confreres.

Newsletter South Africa No 66  FrDear Brothers and Sisters,

Greetings from Ghana,  where I am appointed for pastoral experience. The aim of these two years is to train me and prepare me for missionary life. These are years when the apostolic and pastoral components (working with youth, community development, various visits to the local people, catechism classes, to mention but a few) are predominant. The main task is for the apostolate, as well as a time of discernment. It will be a time of test to see if I have the necessary qualities to live a missionary life.

My community is made of four members, two confrere-priests, John Amona (Ghana) and Gazena Haile (Ethiopia) and one who is in his second year of pastoral experience, Martial Kedem (Burkina-Faso). The four of us, from different parts of Africa, form a community of Missionaries of Africa in Nyankpala.

I will soon be in the village for the language. Your prayers for this, I will really appreciate. Dagbani, is my first African language that I will sit down and concentrate on learning as such. I wish to speak it like a native speaker. It is not a Bantu language, but I am willing to put much effort into it. May the almighty God, who blew on the Apostles the Holy Spirit to speak in various languages; may He blow in me as He did with them.

I ask for your prayers that I may constantly listen to God’s voice and continue trusting Him in my life. I too, will keep you in my prayers. Happy new month of September! May Christ’s peace be with you all.

Your Brother in Christ.

Patrick Kalonji Kadima.

Read more about how Africans are travelling across their continent to bring the Good News at this link:

A Letter from Africa

And pray that the Spirit may blow through Patrick and all Missionaries; may they be on fire with his love – and may we too remember that we are Missionaries, sent to share the Joy of the Gospel with whomsoever we meet.

MMB.

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6 April, Advice to Missionaries: Eat whatever they set before you.

 

Meet Jean-Marie Vianney K. Cishugi who is a student with the Missionaries of Africa, White Fathers. Here he is writing of his early days in Zambia, learning two languages to be able to work with the local people.

“Nitabile hahulu kuli nakona kubulela silozi.”

“I am very happy to speak Silozi.”

« Je suis très content de parler le lozi. »

By Jean-Marie Vianney K. Cishugi, stagiaire.

I came to Zambia in July 2016 to follow the “Welcome to Zambia” introductory course in Lusaka. It was not easy for me to communicate efficiently in English. I made an effort to learn and to practise with people who were willing to help me to improve my English. In fact, I got some help from my brothers who were patient enough to correct my mistakes while speaking.

Then, I came in Barotse Land in Western Zambia on the third week of August 2016 in order to start my apostolic training in Saint Gabriel Parish. I was sent to learn the local language Silozi which is a beautiful one with all its grammatical formulations and verbal richness. While learning it, I was also getting acquainted with the Lozi culture. Amazingly, one must clap his hands (ku bulela niitumezi ni kukambelela) to say ‘thank you’. We were four learners to follow the language course at Limulunda for three months.

I came to realise that I have to humble myself if I want to learn a new language.  It took me few weeks to be able to speak a bit. I struggled a lot with my intonation and it took me a lot of courage. Once in a while, l would join my community at Namushakende on Sunday and visit an outstation of our Parish. Initially, l was afraid and shy to speak but I managed to communicate.

I went to Nanjuca, one of our outstations, for my immersion into the language and the culture. I was nicely welcomed in this village. Some people thought that I was there to interact only with Catholics. Slowly, they discovered that I was there for everyone. Children were happy to be with me. I was eating everything they offered me except tortoise (kubu).

I led the service prayer on Sundays. Everybody, children and parents alike, were praying with me though the majority belong to the United Church of Zambia (UCZ) and the New Apostolic Church. I had the trust of Parents who helped me to practise the Silozi language.

I seized this opportunity to deliver a message from Father Venerato Babaine encouraging parents to send their children to school and live together in peace and harmony with other religions.

I had a very fruitful experience and l owe the people a huge debt of gratitude. During my last days in the village, l was really touched by the generosity of the people who came to bid me farewell. Regardless who they are or where they come from, they offered me few presents. People were sad and some burst into tears when Father Christian Muhineza came to pick me up. I felt sad as I had to go.

I am happy to be with the Lozi people and they are pleased when I speak their language.

Niitumezi kaufela a mina (Thank you all) mi mulimu amitohonolofaze (and God bless you)!

 

The Lord appointed also other seventy-two: and he sent them two and two before his face into every city and place whither he himself was to come. And he said to them: The harvest indeed is great, but the labourers are few. Pray ye therefore the Lord of the harvest, that he send labourers into his harvest. Go: Behold I send you as lambs among wolves. Carry neither purse, nor scrip, nor shoes; and salute no man by the way. Into whatsoever house you enter, first say: Peace be to this house. And if the son of peace be there, your peace shall rest upon him; but if not, it shall return to you. And in the same house, remain, eating and drinking such things as they have: for the labourer is worthy of his hire. Remove not from house to house.  And into what city soever you enter, and they receive you, eat such things as are set before you. And heal the sick that are therein, and say to them: The kingdom of God is come nigh unto you.

Luke 10: 1-10.

And what feast is set before us next Thursday!

Here is the link to Jean-Marie’s post on the Missionaries of Africa Blog.Speaking the Language

It is important to speak the local language, (including clapping hands and smiling) and humbling indeed to learn. I must return to my neglected Polish!

MMB.

 

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23 September: Intergalactic Discoveries, XI: A Triumph of Interspecific Thought Transference.

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T was unimpressed by this ‘dastardly deception’. ‘What kind of ambassadors are you?’

‘Sent to lie abroad for our Galaxy’, retorted Alfie.

‘Lying or lying? Be careful. Earth is changing you.’

The next opportunity to exercise thought transference came when baby Abel arrived. The humans were wary lest Alfie snap at him, but by now Abel was walking and making lots of noise, but not really talking.

‘Here’s a challenge,’ said Ajax. ‘Let’s make everyone happy. Are you ready? Beam!’

They both sat, ears up, looking intently at Abel, who was pointing at them, looking from dogs to grandparents and back again. He went rigid, screwed up his face, and said, ‘Oggg, Oggg, Oggg!’

‘Hey, that was powerful!’ thought Ajax. It seemed that young humans could communicate without words, but really wanted to use them. Abel was very pleased with himself, hardly believing he’d said his first word.

The Chihuahuax were pleased with themselves too, but that was always the default setting for them.

WT.

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26 August. Reflections on Living Together, VI: Enough to Communicate.

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Mary meets the Lord: York Minster

The distance imposed by not sharing a common language does not excuse acting as if the French virtue of Fraternity is not our vocation. In Psalm 133 David extols Fraternity: ‘How good and pleasant it is, brothers dwelling in unity.’ He compares it to the extravagance of precious oil running down the head and beard. We can think of sun tan lotion applied to hot, cracked, dry skin. In David’s time olive oil was precious: it represented hours of physical labour by man and beast to harvest and press the fruit.

Think, too, of the woman who anointed Jesus’ feet with precious ointment (Luke 7: 36-49) or Mary Magdalene with her spiced oil, hurrying to the tomb on Easter Morning (Luke 24:1-10). Jesus greeted her (John 20:15) and she knew her Lord; he gave her her mission and filled her with joy.

While on holiday I knocked on a door for directions. My ‘dzien dobry’ and ‘djien kuje’ – ‘good day’ and ‘thank you’ – led the elderly gentleman who answered the door to commend my few words of Polish as ‘enough to communicate’. His English was impeccable; his encouragement of my stumble into his tongue both humbled me and lifted my spirit after a long day’s travelling.

Let’s pray that the Spirit of Pentecost may be on our lips when we need to speak.

MMB

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25 August. Reflections on Living Together V: People-watching

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On holiday I indulged in quiet people watching to a greater degree than usual, perhaps because I had no children to amuse. My wife is amused enough by my antics that I need not seek ways to entertain her.

Perhaps, too, not understanding more than a few words of German or Polish favoured my eyes when my ears failed me.

One evening we were in the Old Town of Warsaw, pleasantly crowded with people from all over the world, under the watchful but discreet eyes of armed police and soldiers.

Do you tell yourself stories about passers-by?

In a group of Muslim girls, enjoying each other’s company on a warm evening, some will be veiled, some not; in a family, the mother may wear the veil, the daughters not, or the other way about. What discussions take place around their meal tables? And what does the smiling husband and father feel,  accompanying them through Berlin or Warsaw or even Canterbury?

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I can remember Catholics being scandalised by women appearing with heads uncovered in church, or sisters abandoning their traditional habits; but come to think of it, we saw more veils on nuns than on Muslims in Poland. And one rainy morning in Krakow, nearly all the stragglers from World Youth Day wore veils as they passed by.

Dr Johnson once remarked: ‘A man who cannot get to heaven in a green coat will not find his way thither the sooner in a grey one.’ But not everyone agrees.

 

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