Long Winded Thanks

If you know me well, you know that I am intrigued by and struggle with the existence of paradox—two ideas that are opposing, or that are at opposite ends of a continuum, but that are both, nonetheless, true. “How can that be? Can two opposing things be true?” one might ask. Well, yes, there are tons of examples, and, I would suggest that paradox exists because to God there is neither beginning nor end of time, space, and, continuums. What seems to us like two opposites are really just parts of the same whole when looked at from a divine viewpoint. In Eastern philosophy, this idea is captured in the concept and symbol of yin and yang, and is generally accepted, but our Western sensibilities, mine included, have a hard time letting go of our dualistic, hierarchical pattern of organizing—a right and a wrong, a lesser and a greater.

I’m being too theoretical, so let me give you an example of a paradox that troubles me and that has, since we have come here, become more visible and immediate than ever: it is the paradox that God commands us to work toward a Zion society, where all are pure in heart, and where there are no poor among us. The early saints in His church had all in common, and the consequences of holding back from giving all were grave. But at the same time, God makes it very clear that if we keep His commandments, we will prosper in the land, and He is also clear that at least part of that prospering includes material things that have no intrinsic value in terms of feeding or clothing people, but things that exist solely for their beauty or the pleasure of His children. He wants to give us blessings of beauty and pleasure to our senses. And then, paradoxically again, this precious prosperity generally becomes a curse, not a blessing, as it warps people and makes them forget the source.

My solution to the discomfort that comes from the existence of paradox, or, worse still, this kind of circling of truth, is to militantly fight for balance, playing both sides against each other as best I can, while maintaining some sort of middle ground. I stand there in the middle, trying to stay upright, and I wobble one way and then the other, while some seem able to embrace the whole continuum and function all around it. I wonder: should I give all I have away—physical and spiritual, holding nothing back; should I guiltily indulge in the pool I get to swim in or the mango I can afford, while doling out rice and getting praise for that pittance as if I’m a saint; should I spread happiness through true doctrine that lifts, sprinkling random gifts that are unexpected and unconnected to survival, while enjoying with gratitude some of the pleasures I have been blessed (or cursed) with?

In practice in the Philippines this means for me that I am always deciding, in each moment how to think about and behave about the fact that I get to eat chocolate every day if I choose, when the people around me can feed their whole family lunch for the cost of that chocolate bar. If you use the beach-stranded starfish metaphor, where you can’t save all the starfish, but you can make a difference for the one you are tossing back from the beach to the ocean, then every day I am saving starfish, but also deciding not to save others. Am I not? And it’s much more complicated than that, because, by tossing a starfish back (in this case, giving them the cost of the chocolate bar, say) are you really saving them, in any real way, or are you cursing them by aiding their dependence or sense of entitlement?

So, as I said before, I stalwartly struggle to stand in the middle. I pray for guidance to know what help is actually helping. I study scripture to find models for what we are facing. I look to church policy and practice which is at the same time both amazingly generous and also very disciplined, and then I try to practice, in a micro sort of way, what I feel directed to do.

The most recent starfish that we found at our feet was in the form of a dear old man who had just lost his wife. He needed financial help to bury her. The branch president came to Elder Cropper for counsel as to how to handle it, because he couldn’t find it addressed in the church hand book—can a branch use fast offering funds for this purpose? Elder Cropper (after rejoicing that the handbook is now being consulted) counseled him to ask the immediate family to all stretch and pitch in to help—he has 8 adult kids. I then suggested that he remind the husband and children that it is a privilege and an honor to honor the dead by stretching and even sacrificing to bury them, not elaborately, but respectfully. (Let me point out here that the total cost the family was looking at, though huge to them, was very small from our point of view, and we could have offered to foot the bill without much of a stretch—under $200.00). We then told the branch president that if the family could not or would not help their dad, then he, the branch pres., should pray to know how to proceed; since it was not outlined, yeah or nay, it was his call as directed by the Spirit.

All this was certainly a learning process for the branch president, and a growing process for the family, and who knows what positive out comes there might be from not just having the branch pres, or us, just hand over the funds without question. But still, I had to struggle to stay upright, knowing this man had so little and I have so much. Oh, and the other important detail is that the man and his wife were the only members of the church in their family—none of their children believed as they did, and each came with his or her own ideas about how our church ought to help, and they were certainly making judgments about their dad’s church based on the outcome.

When we went to the viewing, which occurs, as is the custom here, in the entry porch of the house, which is hung with sheets and curtains all around, the family were all gambling and drinking under a tarp that had been strung up outside the viewing room. The old father looked so alone and forlorn and vulnerable, sitting next to his wife’s casket while his children and grandchildren reveled just outside. We did not know the outcome of his request or the response. But the man approached us and now asked directly for our help, since folks here don’t differentiate really well between the church leadership and the missionaries, especially since Elder Cropper is now serving in both capacities. So, Elder Cropper explained again the process, said this was between the man and his branch president, and that we as missionaries were not allowed to help directly in any financial way.

Then we stayed a long time, teaching eternal truths of comfort and solace, but as I walked away, I couldn’t help myself, and I took aside a woman from the branch who I know to be both discreet and wise. I handed her some bills and asked that she put them quietly in to the collection box next to the casket. I explained to her why the anonymity and secrecy, and I trusted her to understand—as well as it can be understood, since I don’t understand it. I just had to toss the starfish. Even though I know there is an order to things and even though tossing it might be bad for it in some crippling way.

And so don’t we all play at godhood, with our infinitely tiny viewpoints, and we try to find the balance in the paradox?

All that said, let me state emphatically, on a different note, but the same topic, that I am awed by the generosity of each of you. I applaud with all my heart the very tangible and miraculous way in which so many gave to the flood victims here, by helping repair and refurnish their school. I have no conflicted feelings about all that was accomplished, at Bio-os Elementary School, through your donations. That was pure truth—good people coming together—financially in the case of those from far, and physically in the case of those who were here, to reestablish a place of learning and growth. Through that process, I learned so much about the power of spontaneous love and goodness. I never wondered for a second about paradox; rather, I felt sure footed and supported.

Thank you. Again. And Again--on behalf of the school, the parents, the children, and . . .

Thank you for helping to steady us—to allow us to find a place of balance in this rather topsy-turvy corner of the world. Our sense of balance is an extremely handy and hugely appreciated side effect of your generosity. It has helped me see some of the whole continuum of what Zion means in practice.

May God continue to bless us all, as he always so generously does. (Another paradox—He asks us to ask for blessings, when He has already given beyond our capacity to ever comprehend or express gratitude for. (Hmmmmm).

Some rather random and unconnected pictures:

Picture #1 below, on our the way back from delivering some rice to a family who lost their house in the typhoon.

Next, the back yard of a member who collected some coconuts and put them in her back yard and just watched them sprout. Coconut trees are amazingly productive and everything on the tree can be used.

Followed by MA coming face to face with one of the locals on our way to a members house. Obviously in the middle of no where. Well, actually up ahead and a little to the right in the coconut trees. It rained hard just before we left. Although, the boots do make a great fashion statement