Two springs ago, I took my daughter with me on a trip back to India. I wanted her to see the world in which I had spent my first ten years, the world that has influenced me ever since.
In the city where my parents had served as missionaries, we looked for the house where I had once lived.
“How will we know your house when we see it?” my daughter asked.
“It’s a big house, set well back, at an angle to the road,” I said.
At that moment, we passed a house that fitted that description. “Is that it?” my daughter blurted.
Our driver threaded around a block that was anything but grid pattern and turned into the gravel driveway.
Two uniformed police officers with guns slung over their shoulders waved us away.
I got out of the car.
One of the men unslung his gun.
I held my hands out. Open palmed. Empty.
“I used to live here, once,” I explained. “When I was a little boy, a chota sahib.”
They looked doubtful.
“I wanted to show my home to my daughter,” I explained, as she got out of the car.
One of them jerked his head in the direction of the house. “Come,” he beckoned.
First rule of hospitality: when a stranger comes in peace, do not turn him away.
Take what you’re offered, and nothing more
Poet Robert Frost once wrote, “Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.”
Inside a dark and crowded little office, with bulging filing cabinets stacked against the walls, three burly men sat around an old leather-topped desk overflowing with papers. They looked at us suspiciously.
I told my story to the man with the most stripes on his sleeve. He conferred briefly. The other two stood up.
“Sit, please.” The officer indicated their chairs.
I told a little more of my history in that house. How long ago it was. What my parents had done in those days. Why we had left.
Someone brought a jug of tepid water. The senior officer poured it into glasses that were not dishwasher sparkling. We had no way of knowing if the water had been filtered or purified. We drank it anyway.
Second rule of hospitality: take what you’re offered; don’t expect more than your host has available.
I asked if we could look through the rest of the house. The archway between the dining room and living room had been filled in, but I could still recognize its outline in the wall.
But it wasn’t ours any more.
I wanted to go upstairs, to see our bedrooms, the bathroom where we first got running water when I was eight, the verandah where we slept outside under mosquito nets in the hot season. But I didn’t.
I wanted to see if the back yard still had any of the trees I used to climb. If the lawn was still there where we shot firecrackers out of toy bamboo cannons. But I didn’t.
Third rule of hospitality: know when it’s time to leave.
I will not go back again. That time has passed. I don’t belong there any more.
Fourth rule: don’t start thinking it’s YOUR home.
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Copyright © 2016 by Jim Taylor. Non-profit use in congregations and study groups, and links from other blogs, welcomed; all other rights reserved.
To comment on this column, write jimt@quixotic.ca
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YOUR TURN
Barbara Beatty wrote about last week’s column, on taking time to breathe before swallowing, or acting: “I tend to react first and then breathe. About 6 months ago I was given the three questions you listed, by a friend.
“Recently my brother gave me a 4th question: ‘Is the timing right?’ (from Buddha teachings). Recently, when old unresolved family issues came up, I needed that 4th question. My situation met the 1st three conditions. My comments felt necessary even though they were not kind. The 4th question made it very clear that I needed to find another way to deal with this old family stuff…
“Unresolved issues come back every so often to remind me that memories of the past are often painful, even when I think I have completely dealt with them. Nothing would be gained to re-engage those old family hurts directly! Four questions = at least 4 breaths.”
Jane Bennett amplified the quotation from Gwen Nyhus Stewart: “I've heard a slightly different version which I think specifically relates to passing along gossip [built around the acronym THINK: JT].
T = Is it True?
H = Is it Helpful?
I = Is it Inspiring?
N = Is it Necessary
K = Is it Kind?
If the answer to the questions is yes, share it. If it is no, keep your mouth shut as you may do more harm than good.”
Don Nazrude commented, “I use breathe in my meditations. When I am up and about and feel stressed I take deep breaths and usually count to 5 or 10. I have heard it said that we breathe the same air as those we admire.
“Then there is another cliché -- remembering my children when they were babies: ‘sweet as babies’ breath’. Now my oldest daughter is an oral hygienist, so just imagine the kind of advice she gives me about not having a ‘foul mouth’!
“Interpret that any way you want, but that is where a lot of disease starts. Yes, dis-ease.”
David Martyn loves technology: “My Apple Watch will now, as of this week, help me with my breathing. Maybe you should get one.”
Dave attached a description of all the things his breathing app can help him with. I have difficulty swallowing it all…
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PSALM PARAPHRASES
Rather than using my paraphrase of Psalm 91:1-6 and then 14-16, might I suggest you sing Michael Joncas’s wonderful hymn, “On Eagle’s Wings”?
Okay, if you must read something, here’s a paraphrase written from a small child’s perspective (on the assumption that we have all been small children once, and some of us still are).
I hide behind Mommy’s skirts,
behind her knees,
and peer around them at a fearful world.
I can trust her.
I don’t trust strangers.
Especially men with candy in their pockets,
or men who want me to help them find their lost puppy.
Mommy’s skirts keep me safe.
I don’t need to be afraid –
of ghosts, and goblins, and things that go bump in the night.
Mommy’s skirts protect me.
I think God must be like my Mommy.
God will comfort those
who call God’s name in the darkness.
God will come,
God will wrap her arms around the weeping ones
and will kiss away their fears.
God will tuck them back into their beds
and help them sleep.
For paraphrases of most of the psalms used by the Revised Common Lectionary, you can order my book Everyday Psalms from Wood Lake Publishing, info@woodlake.com.
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YOU SCRATCH MY BACK…
Ralph Milton has a new project, called Sing Hallelujah -- the world’s first video hymnal. It consists of 100 popular hymns, both new and old, on five DVDs that can be played using a standard DVD player and TV screen, for use in congregations who lack skilled musicians to play piano or organ. More details at www.singhallelujah.ca
Isabel Gibson's thoughtful and well-written blog, www.traditionaliconoclast.com
Wayne Irwin's "Churchweb Canada," an inexpensive service for any congregation wanting to develop a web presence, with free consultation. <http://www.churchwebcanada.ca>
Alva Wood's satiric stories about incompetent bureaucrats and prejudiced attitudes in a small town are not particularly religious, but they are fun; write alvawood@gmail.com to get onto her mailing list.
Tom Watson writes a weekly blog called “The View from Grandpa Tom’s Balcony” – ruminations on various subjects, and feedback from Tom’s readers. Write him at twatson@sentex.net
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TECHNICAL STUFF
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