Regression, Reconstruction, and Religion

Happy Birthday, Chris, Neddy, and Balian!!!

"To teach is to learn twice." - Joseph Joubert

I’ve always said if I could go back to any age, I would be eight – and now, at 36, that’s exactly what I get to do! After giving a difficult quiz to my various levels of students last Friday (even Mary Poppins tempered her frivolity with efficiency), I hung out on the playground playing Hide and Seek (“Escondido”), and doing clapping rhymes with the girls while the other kids circled me on bicycles and kicked around a miniature bola. I am eight. I get to play at recess without being a faculty representative with a clipboard and a whistle! While I squatted behind rusty, old desks and tried to say tongue-twisters in Spanish, Chris and Wilder arrived to pick me up. Every time they do, all of the girls run to fawn over Wilder (“Walter?”). He enjoys the attention for awhile, but has no long-term interest in being their little muñeca; he wants to play futbol with “the big boys.” Since big can mean 6 or 7 years old, he’s usually in luck, as the 11-to-12-year-old boys find him cute, but don’t have the patience to accommodate his monopolization of the ball. Their limbs itch to kick too often, too fast, too hard, and too far. That’s where Chris comes in, if he’s not chatting with Luis about the computers, of course. Our neighbor Stan came by the school this past Friday also to talk to Luis and the principal (yep, there actually is one – I met her in the aisle of the Supercompro one day), about doing some tech support for them and possibly getting some new computers donated to the school. It may be a long shot, but we’re putting the energy out there and will see what kind of advantage or opportunity comes their way.

“They paved paradise, and put up a parking lot”. – Joni Mitchell

While it’s not our goal to pave paradise, we are definitely adding a bit of concrete to our slice of it as our outdoor rancho and kitchen continues to be built. Progress is good and it is going to be a great space (though I’m starting to wonder why we didn’t first buy furniture for the inside of the house or build a second bathroom). As with all construction projects, it lends itself to a bit of destruction as well. The victim in this case is our bright and blooming yard. Though I know it will all grow back, it is not easy watching a backhoe tramp over vibrant tropical flowers in the prime of their bloom and turn lawn into cow pasture. My paradise is looking a little worn right now, but I know there is a greater good in it all, so I allow myself to laugh with Chris and watch as Wilder jumps and Phoebe rolls in freshly dug mud.

“Thank God I’m an atheist.” - Luis Bunuel

As I imagine may be the case in other predominantly God-fearing cultures and communities, “Thank God” is not a mindless utterance here used simply in appreciation of finding your favorite hair-care product in stout supply at the market, of making it to the video store five minutes before they close, or of finding the last beer tucked in the back of the fridge. When Ticos say “Gracias a Dios,” they really mean it – Thank God my family is healthy; Thank God I didn’t get bit by that snake; Thank God for that chicken we killed for dinner; Thank God my wife and three kids did not fall off the back of my motorcycle on the way to church. Everything’s relative, isn’t it?

Another favorite phrase which summons the campo’s ever-present Christian deity is “Dios a tu compaña” –“ May God be your companion” or “May God be with you.” This is usually offered up as a blessing when you’re about to undertake a journey – whether to the store or to the States. And again, they really mean it. It’s very nice.

As all spiritual savages eventually do in God’s country, we often find ourselves the target of religious speculation and inquiry: We’ve been asked several times if we go to church (yes, we worship the Great Out Doors). We have been invited to services (sounds lovely, but no, thank you). We have been enlightened on the power of accepting Jesus (I can agree that Jesus was a cool dude, but my reasons are very likely different from theirs). We have been lectured about the “two paths” in life (if that’s all there are, where do all of these freeways go?), and I had to defend myself when asked how I knew I was on the right one (well, if I’m going to hell in a bucket, at least I’m enjoying the ride). We have also been given a Spanish-language Bible(which I enjoy having, but whose personal novelty would likely offend those who gave it to me).

Of course, I have the utmost respect for the faith(s) of all of our friends and neighbors and I am learning to appreciate the role of religion a bit differently in our current context. (Where you’re more likely to find a Bible-study group than a university-sponsored religious debate.) It’s possible that if I had the language to express how I really feel (within diplomatic reason), I may have alienated or offended our new compadres long ago. But the language barrier still being one I traverse with limited agility, I think I have probably come across to our religious inquisitors as more accepting and pious than I might if I were speaking with, say, a Jehovah’s Witness who just rang my doorbell in California (though I am never rude, I am truthful).

Forced economy in language has worked to my advantage in this case. I’m realizing that not everything needs to be disagreed with, not everything needs to be questioned, not everything needs to be examined academically, not everything needs to exist in relation to my beliefs. It just is what it is. … God? He protects your family and remints your spirit every week? Right on. I’ll give a holla to your god. Ultimately, I would go to Lao Tzu or Buddha or the goddesses for spiritual guidance and the realignment of my chi, but I am deferential to the beliefs and blessings of all those who want to save my soul and deliver me from their particular brand of evil if they are so inclined. Gracias a Dios.