“The Spirit of India”

Before coming to India I was under the impression that the culture here was spiritually very rich. I read about how people from all over the world would come join Ashrams here for weeks, months, and years at a time to practice yoga, meditation, and prayer. In these Ashrams, visitors from all corners of the globe would come for one sole purpose, to get in touch with a greater reality present in both themselves and in the world around them; some call it the soul of the world, others call it God. This greatly excited me as this discovery of self and God is to me the reason we are alive. Even before coming I wanted to join such an Ashram at least for a short period of time.

Since I have been here I have found that much of what I have read is true. The spirit here is very palpable. First off, religion is very much a part of the culture here. Most everyone here not only believes in a God but is also very much devoted to their God. You can see this almost anywhere you go. People everywhere are praying, on the sides of the road, in the train, on the bus. There are small temples and chapels erected on almost every street corner representing all different religions. People pray at these places morning, noon, and night as if their soul depended on it. It is beautiful to see. I can see God is alive here. I can feel it in the way prayer is an active part of each person’s day. There doesn’t seem to be a routine of when and where to pray to God. I feel people here are constantly praying to God as if their conversation with God is never ending.

I also have been moved to pray more here; to have more of a constant dialogue with God. It isn’t something I force. Instead, it is something that happens naturally. Maybe it is because I have more time in the mornings and evenings. Or perhaps it is because without all the familiarities and securities I am accustomed to in my life, I am learning more and more how to depend further on God. The other possibility, however unrealistic it may sound, is that the spirit here does have a different air about it that is unavoidable. I think it is probably a combination of the three. Nevertheless, I feel I am growing closer to God.

I appreciate being in a culture where most people feel free to be open with their faith. This makes it easy for me to be more open with my faith and to share my passion of God with others, another reason I feel closer to God. I have had so many rich conversations with Christians, Hindu’s and Muslims and I am discovering what I have always known deep inside, that we are more similar then we are different. It has been so wonderful to speak with people who share a deep devotion to God.

Through my relationships with people I have found God in the small things. Drinking tea together, sharing thoughts, spending time, learning about one another. I have made many new friends here. One lady in particular I feel and affinity toward. She is like a grandmother figure to me and in fact she reminds me of my father’s mother, my Mimi who died when I was nine years old. She has a fire in her that burns and her love for Jesus is very deep. Her husband pasted away this past March after five long years in which he could not move or speak due to a stroke. I have visited her a couple times and each time she reads me amazing poetry that she wrote about her struggle the last five years and how she found Christ in the midst of it. I have been brought to tears numerous times. Somehow I feel God has led me to her. It is like we are both another piece of the puzzle of life for each other. One poem in particularly moved me to tears. It reminded me of a thought I had in the other day in the train. My thought was if we are more dependent on God than on our self, we are more likely to see life as a gift we have been given than as something we have created, and therefore our gratitude for this gift of life outweighs our self-sufficiency. Here is the poem.

Busy they all were with their work and prayer,

None stepped in to say a word;

When did we become so self-sufficient I wondered,

When did we become so urban, losing our humanity?

Self and sufficiency have made monsters of us all,

Who pay no heed to the needs of our neighbors,

Yet we profess to be followers of the One

Who laid down His life for others.

Can these go together?

Will God be pleased with us?

Yet nothing stirs our conscience-

Why should we interfere, we say;

Yet were we not all the time finding fault

And spreading news of our neighbor?

Damn our self-righteousness,

The thing condemned by our Lord the most;

Can’t we follow with simplicity

The things that our Master taught,

Why should we make life so complex

For ourselves and for others?

Love God, worship Him,

But love your neighbor as yourself,

Because God loves him, and is with him.

Find God in your neighbor’s sickness,

His loneliness, his tragedies and pain,

His agony, his confusion,

His helplessness, his loss.

For that is where God dwells,

That’s where we can find His footsteps.

- Anna Verghis

I have also had the opportunity to visit various churches and temples. I struggle a bit with finding peace in the church services, mostly because they are in Malayalam, last for two to three hours at a time, and sometimes seem more like a show then a worship service but I can sense the spirit and the believer’s devotion to the spirit. I also accompanied a dear friend of mine to her temple, the temple of the snake God. It was during a Hindu holiday so it was packed! I am talking New Orleans Mardi Gras packed, where there is no space between you and the people surrounding you and you are more or less being pushed along with the crowd. After my initial Closter phobia, I just let myself be carried along and started to notice the utter devotion of these people. It was truly moving to see all these people gathering in this holy place. What was especially touching was when we got to the entrance of the temple, everyone’s heads bowed and hands clasped almost automatically and they began praying, some loudly, some softly. It was as if the spirit filled their bodies as soon as they entered their sacred place or worship. We then began our pilgrimage through the temple, visiting all the different statues that represented different God’s along the way. Again, people continually bowed their heads in reverence, praying to their God’s all along the way. It reminded me of some of the Cathedrals in Italy where people would kneel down and prayer for hours at the Alter as if they were alone with only their God. It was a beautiful temple, most of it outside in the natural environment or Kerela. There was a path that led through a jungle-like vegetation with trees surrounded both sides and a vine like canopy above (where the snakes lived), and statues of various God’s on both sides. Although, I do not understand much about the Hindu religion it was truly humbling to see the devotion these people had for their Gods.

I also had the chance to visiting an Ashram with some friends one evening. Of all the spiritual experiences I have had thus far, this is the moment I would have to say I felt God’s presence the strongest. When we got to the Ashram, just before dusk, it began to drizzle ever so softly as if setting the tone for the peaceful evening ahead. At first we spoke to the Achen or priest of the Ashram and as usual here had some tea and biscuits. We then proceeded to the chapel, a beautiful structure with all sides open and looking out to the surrounding forest. This type of architecture reminded me of our connectivity to God’s nature. At the far end the roof rose up in a spiral cone as if pointing to the heavens. A small alter was under it. There we sat on the ground in a circle as the sun set. Soon there were no lights, only our voices that filled the room and spilled out into the forest. We went around telling our faith stories and how we each had come to know God in our life journeys. At one point, I laid down on my back looking up at the spiral ceiling. I could just barely make out the curvature of the ceiling cone or anything around me for that matter but I remember being filled with an unsurpassable peace. In that moment I knew I was exactly where I was suppose to be, as if it had been planned for thousands of years even before I was born into this world. I felt in that moment the spirit was very much alive in me and in all things around me. It reminded me of a similar moment I had on the train coming back from a weekend trip when the sun was setting and for several minutes I felt completely part of everything. It was as if I had lived in India my whole life. Everything felt close to my heart. I felt the people sitting next to me and the people whom we passed on the train, were my brothers and sisters. The moment was painted with the most beautiful rose orange color and I was so grateful to be alive. God seemed to encompass everything. And the spirit inside of me was the same spirit inside of everything and everyone around me; the same spirit of India.

Celebrations

“Festivals and Weddings”

One of the things I enjoy most about this culture is the amount of holidays, festivals, and celebrations। It seems there is always an excuse to have a party here. This past week I was lucky enough to be able to join in two such events. The first was a housewarming party of a family I had never met before. (It is not uncommon to get invitations from friends of the family even if you have never directly met the family). The housewarming party is an event in which many people are invited to come and more or less bless the house before I family moves in. There was a prayer service and after the service a grand feast in which we were served fried rice, some rather scrumptious chicken curry, and ice-cream (which here is more like frozen whipped cream). After the banquet we took a tour around the new house. Many of the rooms were newly painted and void of any furniture. The group of friends I was with found a room where we could sit. After a while of talking, we started having some arm wrestling matches, or as they like to call it “arm punching” matches on the floor, due to the lack of furniture. This turned into Rebecca and I breaking out some gymnastic moves and yoga poses, which then escalated into a full out dance exchange complete with lessons. One of the little girls, I am guessing around the age of twelve or thirteen was peeping in through the doorway with a great deal or interest. I asked my friend Bijo to ask her in Malayalam if she would be willing to teach me some dance moves. There was an initial hesitation, understandably since we were much older and complete strangers, but eventually the little girl overcame her shyness and began to dance for us, She preformed a classical style of Indian dance, complete with head and eye movements. She then walked me step by step through the classical movements, humming while she taught. It was a wonderful moment witnessed by a large group of people who were beginning to crowd around the doorway. Here we were, one younger, one older, one Indian, one American, one whose native tongue was English, one whose native tongue was Malayalam yet we both shared a mutual love for dancing. It was our love for dancing that seemed to dissolve any existing differences between us. Suddenly we were simultaneously teaching and learning from one another. And through dancing we were able to have a beautiful conversation that embraced our differences and expressed our joy more then any words ever could.

The following day was the day of the wedding. We spent a good chunk of the morning putting on our sari’s or rather closely watching Ancy, our native Kerelan friend, well-versed in sari wearing, dress us. Putting on a sari, I have found, is as much of an art as wearing one, with all the delicately placed folds. A sari is basically a giant piece of cloth that you wrap around your body in such a way that makes every woman look like royalty. After fixing our hair and putting on gold jewelry, we officially looked like Indian women, with the exception of our skin tone. When we arrived at Holy Trinity, the cathedral in Kottayam, Veena, the bride’s sister whom we acquainted introduced us to the bride for the first time (like I said this is not uncommon). Around a thousand people were there, including fifty priests or “Achens”. I discovered shortly after getting there that the bride was actually a daughter of a priest which would explain the band of priests. The ceremony was beautiful and although I didn’t understand much, I did understand some of the rituals, which I inquired about before the wedding. One my favorite rituals was when the groom tied around the neck of his bride, a thread which he had removed from her wedding sari before hand. I believe this symbolized the tying together of two lives. The groom then, according to custom, draped a piece of embroidered cloth over the bride’s head. The cloth was part of the second wedding sari, which the bride changed into after the wedding for the reception. I enjoyed watching both of these rituals but the one thing that made me aware I was at a wedding, that I was witnessing a union between two persons who were making a life-long commitment, was the song they sang towards the end of the service, in English. I don’t know if it was the words of the song, its gentle yet powerful melody, the voices in pure harmony, or the simple fact that it was one of the only things I could understand (probably a combination of all) but something about that song stirred deep in my soul and tears started to swell in my eyes. The sounds echoed off the high ceilings…

“O Perfect Love, all human thought transcending,
Lowly we kneel in prayer before Thy throne,
That theirs may be the love which knows no ending,
Whom Thou for evermore dost join in one.

O Perfect Life, be Thou their full assurance
Of tender charity and steadfast faith
Of patient hope, and quiet brave endurance,
With childlike trust that fears no pain or death.

Grant them the joy which brightens earthly sorrow,
Grant them the peace which calms all earthly strife,
And to life’s day the glorious unknown morrow
That dawns upon eternal love and life. Amen.”


A truly beautiful song expressing a truly beautiful event, two lives becoming one. I have learned so much about relationships in India; things that baffle me and at the same time make sense. In Kerela, most marriages are arranged marriages, although it is beginning to change. Before, it was not uncommon that you did not know the person you were going to marry until the day of your wedding. Although those types of marriages still exist, it is more common now for the girl to be introduced to the man her parents have found for her before the wedding. They then spend a few months getting to know each other before deciding if they want do be married. There are also the rare cases in which the parents allow their son or daughter to marry a person of their choice, only with parental approval. Love marriages as they call them, like we have in the U.S., are extremely uncommon and sometimes involve a couple eloping. This is mainly because parental permission is extremely important in this society. Although I personally cannot imagine my parents finding a future husband for me, it makes sense that in this culture, where family bonds are so incredibly close, that your parents, who love and care about you more then anyone else, want only the best match for their child. It is said here that in love marriages, love begins before the marriage, but in arranged marriages love begins at the wedding and only grows from there. In arranged marriages the feelings of “inloveness” and “happiness” are not factors in choosing a mate. Instead, you make a commitment to a person who is believed to be a good partner, then, only after the marriage can your love grow. I am not saying one way is better then the other, in fact I myself prefer falling in love before getting married but I understand how in arranged marriages you chose a husband or a wife, not on the basis of your happiness with them, but on the basis that they will be a good partner to you, someone committed to being a part of your family. And from what I have witnessed these people are serious about their commitments. I think Americans who greatly value their individuality, can really learn some things from the interdependent way of life I have observed in India.

Feet Washing

Newsletters from India

I am sitting in my room, a place that I have made comfortable with my pictures and other various knickknacks from home. The hostel (dorm) in which I live is empty. All the girls have left for the holiday, Puga. Many of the students (and teachers) love this holiday because it is the time in which they give their books to be blessed by God. This translates as no reading or studying for an entire day. One of the great things about living in a country of many religions is that you get to celebrate all of the religious holidays as a nation. It is raining outside, something that has not occurred for some time now. I really love the rain in this place. It gives me comfort.
Living here in India has created within me a feeling of blessing. I feel so blessed to be with the native people of India as they share with me their love for their land. I have been so welcomed into this foreign land, with open arms and open hearts and thus find it easier for me to open my heart to this strange yet familiar place. As I expected many things are different here; the scenery is different, the hot climate is different, the food is different, the rules of “etiquette” are different. I feel that I am relearning many things, the language, the “proper way to act,” even the way to wear my clothes but I also have noticed that many things are not so different. One such thing is the hospitality I have received since I first came. The way people have accepted me into their lives has been a truly humbling experience for me. People have graciously, within days of knowing me, invited me to their homes, cooked meals for me, and have even told me I am one of their family. Even in my home country I have not felt such hospitality.
I experienced such an act of hospitality, which relates directly to the fourth chapter of John in the Bible, the story of the women at the well. The very first day I was in Mavelikara, my new home for a year, several of the young English teachers about my age, took me into the town center so that I could familiarize myself with the place. On the way there, (it is a twenty minute walk from the Hostel to the town) I slipped and my foot fell into a pile of mud. My new companion Swapna, who I had only met hours ago, kindly walked me to the next house around the corner. She asked the man there, dressed in nothing but a Kaili, a traditional sheet like skirt that men often wear, if I could wash my foot off. He pointed behind his house, a concrete block with a dirt path running alongside of it. I was a little apprehensive of the situation, since I didn’t know these people, but thought perhaps Swapna knew them. I felt a bit like I was intruding on their private lives. A woman, working behind the house, saw me, smiled, took my hand, and led me to a well. There she lifted up a bucket of water, poured the water over my foot, and then began to wash my feet. My first instinct was to pull away. After all I do not deserve to have my feet washed by this woman who has welcomed me, a stranger, into her home, without a question or hesitation. But as she washed the bible passage came to mind and I realized she was doing something that for some is hard and for others comes easily; she was doing as Jesus commanded, “Love your neighbor as yourself.” I thanked the woman in the best way I could, not knowing a lick of Malayalam at that point, by simply nodding my head and smiling. After we left, I asked Swapna if she knew those people. She replied, “I thought you would ask that,” and then “No”.
In my short life I have found, wherever you wonder on this great earth, one thing never changes. That one thing is love. As Paul states in the thirteenth chapter of 1 Corinthians “Now abideth, faith, hope, love, and the greatest of these is love. “

My new home in Mavelikara!

Hello again! It has been a while since I have last written, the main reason being that it is nearly impossible to find internet access here. This makes it hard to stay in good contact with people at home but is actually a good thing since it helps me to be more present in my life here. So, if I don't write for weeks on end, know that it is not because I have forgotten you:).

I arrived in Mavelikara September 16th and moved into the girls hostel just outside the campus of Bishop Moore College. A hostel in India, unlike in the States and in Europe, is more like a dormitory. Around 60 girls live there throughout the school year. I have loved being at the hostel and I am constantly surrounded by friendly and lively company. The girls range from ages 17-22. They are very curious and interested in the US and the differences of culture between India and America. They have also helped me quite a bit with the language of Kerela, Malayalam. It is a beautiful language but very different from English; different sounds, different sentence structure, and a different alphabit entirely.

Mavelikara is a beautiful place. The college campus, especially, has many different kinds of tropical trees. The sunlight here is also very beautiful and bright, but it makes for some hot days. The climate here is mostly hot (I look forward to cold showers here) but it is nice in the mornings and evenings and while inside I stay pretty cool under a ceiling fan.

When inside the hostel I wear mostly the clothes I brought from home, comfortable t-shirts, pants and long skirts. But when I leave the hostel I wear a Churidar. The Churidar is a type of traditional dress that is worn by the young women here. The churidar has loose fitting pants that you tie above your bellybutton line (they look a bit like Jasmine's pants from the movie Aladin). It also comes with a short sleeved, knee length dress that you where over the pants, Usually the dress is a similar color as the pants but has different design. You also wear a scarf around the neck that matches the pattern of the pants. It is quite beautiful. I originally was excited about not being so concerned about the way I look. But this culture like most appreciates a well dressed man or woman. (Plus I kind of like dressing up).

I have already created a schedule. I am teaching English at a lower primary school, 1st - 4th grade, Monday's and Wednesday's. I am teaching two spoken English classes with the 1st year and 2nd year students at Bishop Moore college, Tuesday and Thursdays as well as teaching spoken english classes three days a week for the girls in the hostel. I also lead worship Wednesday night and want to start an english Bible study, either in the hostel or in the local CMS church. I might also assist students with computer skills either Wednesday or Friday at the college. And Friday's I want to take time to visit Jyothis, a home for children with some physical disabilities. Saturday's are suppose to be for myself, but I have a feeling I will be doing lots of home visits on Saturday's and on some weekends I will be going to visit the other volunteers in their sites.

So, as you can see I have a busy schedule. Teaching English is a bit overwelming, especially to the little one's, since the only English phrases they know are "Hello" and "How are you?" The college students seem very eager to learn English and I have had some good suggestions from several of the English teachers at Bishop Moore College on what I can do with the students. Also, thanks to my Italian teacher in college, I too have some interesting ideas to make the class fun. I think once I get in the swing of it I will really enjoy teaching.

The kids at the Lower Primary school are adorable. When I first got to the school, they all ran up to me saying "Hello. How are you?" Their little hand were reaching out to me and I felt very welcomed. In fact, since I have been here I have felt very welcomed by the students, by the staff, all wanting me to be a part of their lives. I have developed some closer friendships with a couple of the women in the English department as well as Amama (basically the mother of the hostel). She has also been like a mother to me. Sometimes we really have a hard time understanding each other, although she knows a lot more English then I know Malayalam. Nonetheless, we enjoy each other's company and laugh often together. I am finding when I miss home that homour is one of the best cures. Yesterday Amama took me into town with her and I bought 2 more Churidars to add to my other 4, which means now I have one for each day of the week:). And then she took me to get ice cream. It felt so wonderful to be taken care of.

Language is the biggest barrier for me right now. When I am in the college setting I don't have to worry about it as much since I am with English speaking teachers most of the day but when I am at the LP school or when I go into town it would be helpful if I new the language a bit better. I guess I have only been here for a couple weeks.

Another thing I have noticed here is everything takes at least twice as long: transportation, laundry, shopping. But I enjoy this, for the most part, and feel I am really learning how to slow down again (like I did in Italy). I ussually walk everywhere or ride the bike they have provided for me. I wash, scrub, rinse, and hang up my clothes (a long process that has really made me appreciate washing machines). Also, in Mavelikara you can't find a lot of the classroom supplies you would find in stores in America. There are not specific stores for school supplies. Instead the shops are more like convenient stores, where everything is all together. However, you can't always browse around and find what you want. Many times you have to ask the shopkeeper if they have a certain item.

For the most part, life is good here. I wake up early do some yoga and meditation, go to breakfast, which is my favorite meal of the day. Go throughout my day meeting people and having interesting conversations, usually about cultural differences, eating food that is constantly being shared with me (they love to feed you over here) then come back to the hostel in the afternoon in time for 4:00 tea:). Have worship at 6 and then have time to prepare for class, play guitar, read, etc...while the girls study. Dinner is at 8 then I visit with the girls some before I go to bed. Life is full and although I miss home, my friends and my family very much, I am very happy here in my new home in Mavelikara.

P.S. Next time I will try to post pictures!

My First Impressions...

I have arrived safely here in Kerela. It is an absolutely beautiful
place, so green, verdant and lush, truly a tropical paradise. I love
all the palm trees and banana trees. However, as beautiful as the
landscape is there is a lot of visible poverty here. This is very
disheartening and one of the main reasons I have come to Kerela; to
learn about how to respond to such injustices not only in India but in
the U.S.A when I return. I have so much to learn about the social
structures that are in place that keep a caste system or in the case
of America a class system alive today.
I have already experienced some culture shock which according to our
trusted site coordinator doesn't go away completely for 6-9 months. We
have been staying at Thomas John Achen's (pastor) house for the past
week. We, myself and 5 other volunteers from America, are learning
about the culture, the history, and the economy of Kerela and how it
is affected by the rest of the world, especially the U.S. We are also
learning Malayalam, the regional language here in Kerela and having
daily bible studies. I enjoy looking at the bible from a social
justice point of view and seeing how Jesus responded with truth and
with love to many of the injustices of his time, which are very much
still in existence today, such as prejudice and intolerance. I have had many rich
conversations about politics and religion here and look forward to
having many more in the future.
I also have enjoyed some 'delicious' Indian food. Be careful when
using the word delicious here unless you really mean it. Being overly
nice as Americans often do is seen as ingenuine and is discouraged
here. Actions speak louder then words, therefore asking for seconds
implies that you enjoyed the meal. I have loved eating breakfast,
lunch, and dinner with Achen, his wife, all the volunteers, and any
visitors. It is like we are one big happy family. My favorite time of
day is tea time at 4:00. And may I say the tea here is "DELICIOUS."
May I have another cup:).
We have ventured into the city almost everyday, besides the days when
it has rained all day. The Monsoon was suppose to be ending in July
but because of unusual weather patterns (global warming?) it is still
raining in September. I rather enjoy the rain, especially when reading
or learning Malayalam or sleeping. The constant pitter patter of the
rain gives me comfort in this foreign place. On the days it hasn't
rain we have gone shopping for Saree's which we will be wearing most
of the year, visiting friends and family of Achen, and today we got to
ride an Asian elephant. I have enjoyed all our outings although as a
group of white Americans we attract a lot of stares, (which can be
taken as I am the weird white person or as I like to see it, I am
famous!) Oh and in case you ever venture to this part of the world the
driving here is crazy, two lanes turns into four!!! I am out...more to come soon, or at least the next time I get internet access:).