Africa, Reconciling Ministries, and The United Methodist Church

Winning over Chatty= serious reconciling work 

Last week was the Reconciling Ministries Network’s convocation (translation for non-United Methodists: the movement seeking full-inclusion of LGBTQ in the denomination), and one of the workshops there was titled “Will Africa Always be Anti-LGBTQ?” Not surprisingly, I found myself in an off-the-record conversation reflecting on the question and the mindsets of those who have been earnestly asking it.*

For reasons unrelated to where I stand on the debates around gender and sexuality, I have not been active in the Reconciling Network or the other side of the coin, the Confessing UMC Movement, despite having longtime friends involved in each. I’m not certain how many of those reasons I should share on this blog, so I’ll let those who can read between the lines do so.

I'm realizing, however, that it is time I stick my neck out and start going on-the-record in response to some misconceptions of many folks in both movements. Perhaps some talking points will suffice for now. Some of these may sound like common sense, but I wouldn’t be listing them if what was coming out of American United Methodists suggested that these things were understood.

• Africa is a huge continent. To say “Africans believe that…” or blaming something on “African culture” is even more ridiculous than saying “North Americans believe that…” or "North Americans are anti-gay because that is their culture."

• South Africa legalized same-gender marriage in 2006. Just saying.  

• In 1995, there was a missionary-pushed motion to have the Tanganyika Conference (part of the North Katanga Episcopal Area) vote to join the Confessing Movement. It didn't succeed. Again, just saying.

• While googling “gay rights Africa” leads one mostly to stories of African gay rights leaders being assassinated, there wouldn’t be headlines like this if there weren’t also grassroots gay-rights movements that these martyrs were helping lead.

• When you examine the places in Africa where homophobia and violence against those perceived to be homosexual or gender queer are most extreme, I suggest you follow the money to see who is funding these campaigns. It will often lead you back to the USA. 

• Speaking of the growing reports of violence against suspected homosexuals across Africa, I'd like to remind readers that 

• For much of rural Africa, 21st century "Western" understandings of the purpose of marriage and gender roles within it are relatively foreign, but in many places are being rapidly adopted (especially with the inundation of Western films and television shows). Congolese friends my age tell me that for their parents' generation and for many living in remote areas, a barren wife is viewed as defective and should be replaced. Polygamy is often used out of economic necessity.  A barren woman is worthless, and a man without children is doomed, for who will take care of her/him in old age?  You can imagine how crazy the idea of a same-gender marriage would sound in such a context-- especially when the American missionaries and televangelists have been saying that such things are an abomination. Again, not every African sees things this way, but this is often the basis of those notorious speeches from General Conference (which, FYI, offended many African delegates too).

• America is adopting new cultural norms too.  How quickly some of us forget what our dominant culture recently was. My great-grandmother who helped raise me had 12 siblings. When she was growing up, women weren't allowed to vote. The options available for an abused wife? The social status of a childless woman? Yeah, not so much. As recent internet virals have reminded us, even the spanking of wives was socially acceptable in the 1950s. And the dominant American culture's openly expressed opinion of POCs and GBLTQs until very recently (and even today)? Oh, come on, do I really have to remind you? Please understand that while Americans are looking down their noses at the rest of the world, much of the rest of the world is looking down its nose at us for our backward behaviors (when they even think twice about us, which is another conversation). 

In my home conference of North Katanga (DR Congo), those leaders at the frontlines of human rights struggles are pushing back against mass gang rape, child abuse and massacres, and are calling for the access to public infrastructure (potable water systems, electrical grids, roads, schools etc.) in return for the billions of dollars worth of resources removed from their land by high-ranking government officials and rebel armies. The work of United Methodist leaders in North Katanga in the area of peacebuilding has been truly heroic, which is why I reacted with a strong "Oh no you didn't just say that" when I read Bishop Carcano's statement last year:

Delegates from Africa once again proclaimed that their anti-homosexual stand was what U.S. missionaries taught them. I sat there wondering when our African delegates will grow up. It has been 200 years since U.S. Methodist missionaries began their work of evangelization on the continent of Africa; long enough for African Methodists to do their own thinking about this concern and others. UM Reporter

Were there some General Conference delegates from Africa who I think are immature, ignorant and/or borderline sociopaths who obtained their delegate spot through unethical means? Yes, and I have African colleagues who would concur with this assessment. Now ask me what I thought about some of the delegates from the USA, and I'll give you the same response.

Among those African delegates, though, were people who I hold in such high esteem that to say they need to 'grow up' just because of how they voted on a controversial issue (especially when voting machines at tables didn't exactly give them privacy) is like trash-talking my mother. Anger surges up within me. 

   

Grow up, you say? Yes, next time I speak with my colleagues who have committed financial suicide by agreeing to serve in communities that have been burned down and covered in landmines-- or to those whose family members were gang raped, murdered or taken as sex slaves or to those who risked their lives by bicycling into the camps of warlords to negotiates peace accords, I'll pass along your advice, Bishop. Next time I speak with Friendly Planet's Country Director Rev. Mulongo, the pastor who was elected by his peers to lead North Katanga's delegation to GC, I'll ask him to put "growing up" on his to-do list.  He's a bit busy, however, what with building a nursing school, coordinating several grassroots development projects, and making pastoral visits into Mai Mai territory. If you don't read all my blogs, you might not be aware that the reason why there haven't been Mai Mai attacks in the Mulongo area in quite sometime is that Rev. Mulongo has become the pastor of Chatty (aka The Shooter), the #2 in Lord Nvwendi's Mai Mai army but widely known as the brains of the organization. She has a reputation of being a vicious killer who 'emasculates' her enemies. She's the worst of the worst some say, and I've met her. She walked two days to Rev. Mulongo's house to see if she could be of assistance when she heard there was about to be a big church event. She hopes to enroll in the nursing school this year--just like Lord Nvwendi's daughter. 

OK, so now that I've gotten that rage response out of my system, I'd like to give one more talking point that has been a major blindspot of both the Reconciling Ministries Network and the Confessing Movement thus far.

• Instead of thinking of the African General Conference delegates as pawns in a political game that need to be manipulated, educated or won-over to your team, consider that they have more to offer you than just a vote every four years. Consider what they could teach you about confessing and reconciling strategies when the stakes are life or death. Many of the delegates from North Katanga, for example, know quite a bit about helping people confess their truly heinous sins against humanity and reconcile them back into the community, and they'd be happy if you came to visit them so that they may have a chance to teach you and perhaps even win you over to their movement.     

Let those who have ears hear.  Amen.

*Author's Addition: This post in NO way is intended to be read as a criticism of the folks leading the above-mentioned workshop. They chose the workshop title in order to bait people into attending it, and according to my friends who were there, they did a brave and honorable job at trying to raise attendees' awareness of many of the issues I touched upon in this post. My intention in this post was to extend the conversation beyond the confines of that room and add my additions/spin on the topic. Lots of Love!

Ordination

If you aren’t one of my active Facebook friends and especially if you aren’t FB friends with at least one of my immediate family members, you may have missed the announcement that earlier this month I became an ordained elder in The United Methodist Church. Now some of you may be thinking “Wait—weren’t you already a pastor?” Well, yes, but before I was a pastor in the way that an adjunct professor is a professor. Now I’m a full member of the North Katanga Conference (DR Congo), so this is a bit of a big deal.

Others of you know the backstory of this long journey—some of you much more than most. Just like many professors and pastors, I’ve fantasized about the day when I would be free to speak openly about the rings of fire I jumped through. Now that the day has arrived, I am torn between leaving the past behind me and sharing my experience as a case study for those in similar situations (or for academics critiquing the current ordination process). You see, while my story got its happy ending, I lament that I failed to blaze a smooth path for kindred spirits whose callings don’t fit into the dominant ministry paradigms. That said, to all those who advocated in board meetings and hallways for an affirmation of international itinerancy and to those who were heartbroken and angry when a battle was lost, I want to assure you that there’s no need to cry for me. I was commissioned in the state of my birth with extended family and childhood friends in attendance and ordained in my adopted home in a grand celebration organized by a leadership team that embraces my ministry and my globally nomadic marriage.  How lucky am I! 

Now that the anticipated day has arrived, I am starting to explore what life on the other side of ordination looks like. In case you are curious, I’m seriously considering applying to a doctorate in missiology program down in South Africa and eventually writing curriculum on missiology. This coming year, however, I’ll be busy helping my husband bid on his next assignment, attending my brother’s wedding, coordinating FPM, launching an FPM-owned business (with the end-goal of staff salaries being paid by its profits), assisting the Church in Djibouti, and preparing to move to another yet-to-be-determined country.

So, for the moment, I think I’ll simply celebrate this victory and leave my sermon about losing an incredible opportunity if we don't overhaul the system soon for another day.

Much Love,

Taylor

Why yes, Wesley Seminary classmates, that is Rev. Gertrude beside me.  She's on faculty at Africa University now.

Bishop Ntambo spoke about the over 20 years he's known me before asking me the historic questions--in Swahili.  

Yes, I did successfully answer all the questions in Swahili.

 

Wonderful to have my husband, daughter, and parents there.

My favorite person that day-- the chair of NK's ordination committee!

Gaston (the NK pilot) and Jeanne were able to come; Gaston has just returned to town after flying the new Cessna Caravan all the way from the USA to Lubumbashi.

So excited that Rev. Bondo could attend.  (FYI Plainfield UMC: You sponsored his studies at Africa University, and now he is on faculty there!)

Link to ordination day photo album

SIFAT build update

"So, Taylor, what happened with that construction project in Lusaka that you spent so much time telling us about?  You never got around to doing a follow-up blog on it."

I'm so glad you asked.  Those of you who know me well or have read my blog posts from when I was working in Zambia know that through no planning of my own (i.e. the hot potato dropped firmly into my lap not long after arriving to town) I ended up playing a major role in helping the United Methodist Church's Lusaka district obtain a title deed on a large plot of land north of town and acted as the communications link between SIFAT and district leadership. I expressed to you my mixed emotions about the initiative--about how the missiologist in me would suggest to anyone considering such a thing to run away quickly, and yet how I sensed that I was being called to shepherd this project precisely because I was keenly aware of the difficulties it would face.

After the countless trips to bureaucratic government offices I had truly hoped that, if anything, the district leadership would succeed in obtaining a title deed and that I would still be around the hold that dang piece of paper in my hands.  My wish was finally granted one month before I left Zambia.  Rev. John Ilunga beamed with pride when he returned from the Ministry of Land, and I squealed with joy.


 

I got to be around to see the caretaker's house built (which John, Mary and their children live in), the exterior enclosure completed, and the much of the main building's structural elements go up.  Was even given the honor of preaching at the first official worship service in the building.

There's a little Evelyn in that big belly!

The construction stage is still ongoing and volunteers are welcome.  So if you'd like to spend a vacation going on safari, seeing Victoria Falls and meeting some great people--and helping them build a conference/training center while you are there, contact my friends at SIFAT. 

Remembering Lusaka

Remembering our baptism

It has been pointed out to me that I haven't blogged in a long time. These days I mostly share my adventures via Facebook. That said, not everyone regularly reads FB newsfeeds and not every story can be summed up with a status update or a captioned photo album. So, perhaps I'll start again and begin by telling some of my favorite stories from where I left off.

Not long after my last blog post I discovered that Stuart and I would soon become parents. I had a rather rough first trimester, but we wanted to hold-off on announcing the pregnancy, so I tried to mask my illness and continued with my church work in Lusaka. In fact, when the pastor of the main United Methodist congregation in the district said he could no longer handle his commute due to the heavy rains and bad roads, I was appointed as senior pastor at Matero with the deal that when the roads finally dried I could leave town for my commitments in Indiana and Congo.

No longer itinerating around the district allowed me to journey through all of Lent and into Easter with the same congregation. The experience had its challenges (like marching all morning on a hot day in a heavy robe in an ecumenical Palm Sunday parade while battling morning sickness), but it overall it was wonderful. Together we explored how to enrich our Lenten journey and made plans to make Easter extra special.

My husband and I have a tradition of inviting embassy friends to our house for a Maundy Thursday dinner followed by a contemplative Taize service and Passion reading. When I arrived at church (visualize a rented classroom in a poor part of town) the next morning to lead the Good Friday services, the Taize hymn “Jesus, Remember Me” was still floating through my head, so I decided to introduce it to the congregation. The result was powerful. I had never experienced Taize like this; it brought tears to my eyes as the song swelled pentecostally and morphed into what it was intended to be—an intense communal plea for Christ to not abandon us. The service and song became one; spoken reflections on the Passion and scripture readings served as short rests between its refrains. It is moments like this that make me feel incredibly blessed to work in a setting where contexts collide and enhance each other.

Our beautiful Easter morning sanctuary

Blessing a marriage on Easter Sunday

On Easter morning I arrived with decorations from home (wedding crystal, silk flowers and tablecloths) and was delighted to find our normally shabby classroom had already been transformed by the women of the church. Pink toilet paper, salvaged balloons, curtains from their homes—everything they could gather had been used. I was honored that morning to officiate the baptism of ten children, ritually bless a common-law marriage and welcome three new members. What a day! The members were still talking about it with pride and enthusiasm when interviewed by a visiting American pastor months later.