Lessons

We play a part in God’s work. This seems to be a theme in the divine curriculum for Suzanne just now. Ministry is not about God playing a part in our work, nor should prayer primarily be about asking God to bless what we think is a good idea. When we act like it is our efforts that matter, it suggests that we have an inflated view of our own importance in the cosmic scheme of things.

I have also been challenged by a couple of things I’ve read this past week. The first was an article by a secular anthropologist (ask me if you want the reference). He was critical of Christians working in a particular part of Asia in the past who didn’t take time and make an effort to understand a very complex Tibetan Buddhist worldview. The second thing I read which challenged me was a suggestion by blogger Jerry Jones. He says that when we’re trying to understand another culture and we learn something new, we should respond by asking questions rather than try to figure out even as we’re listening how to use what is said as a jumping point to what we want to communicate. The whole post is well worth reading, actually – you can find it here: http://www.thecultureblend.com/how-to-ask-great-cross-cultural-questions/

And now, with that background in mind, come with me to a language lesson yesterday.

A Language Lesson

We’re sitting on two chairs, the Tibetan word for chair,་རྐུབ་ཀྱག, literally meaning ‘to hold up one’s buttocks’. (Such things amuse me.) There is a small table for my books. Scattered around the room are a computer, printer, overflowing bookshelves, a coffee table, study materials … and a shrine.

There are lots of unlit candles on and in front of the shrine and today there is an offering of what looks like a jar of coconut oil. Prayer flags hang above it.

Today, along with the usual practical vocabulary, the textbook contains a Tibetan proverb. My teacher’s eyes light up. 

A Proverb

ཡ་རབས་མ་རབས་སྤྱ྄ོད་པས་ཤེས།

By observing virtues, good or bad, one can glimpse the character of another.

This isn’t a good translation, my teacher declares. But it is impossible to express its meaning in English without a background of Buddhist philosophy. 

Buddhism teaches that we are born ‘good’, he explains. Our nature is like a vast blue sky without a single cloud in sight. As we make our way through life and do bad things, we contaminate this purity. We can clean it up a bit, though, by earning merit. 

Nobody is entirely good or entirely bad, however, which is one problem my teacher sees with the English translation of this proverb. We’re all a work in progress. Not that we are even really us … our bodies are just a transient illusion. 

Nor can we judge one another, and this is another problem with the English translation of the proverb. We are all flawed. Only the Buddha is in a position to judge, because his perspective comes from one who is ultimately pure. Like a lotus flower which emerges from mud, so the Buddha has come through the murkiness that is life and emerged pure. 

My dream response

Even as I listen, one part of my brain is trying to formulate responses while another is struggling to keep up. What follows is how I dream of responding. 

The Bible teaches that we were created ‘good’, like the blue sky without a single cloud in it. But God’s enemy tempted our ancestors to rebel by crossing the limit God had instituted. And so we became flawed. Every generation since is cursed. 

The Bible teaches that nothing – no sacrifice, no penance, nothing – can undo the damage of sin. We are entirely dependent on God’s mercy for salvation. It’s not something we achieve, but something bestowed on us. 

As for our bodies being temporary, the Bible has something to say about that too. It’s a mystery how, but our weak and temporary bodies will one day be transformed into heavenly resurrection bodies if we are saved through Jesus.  We can read more about that in 1 Corinthians 15:35-58. 

As for judgement, Jesus talked about that too. He said that we cannot judge one another because we are flawed. (See Matthew 7:1-5.) Only Jesus has lived a perfect life, without blemish.

 My actual response

I try as best I can to focus on my teacher’s explanation, to prayerfully request the Holy Spirit’s wisdom and words, and to push my ‘clever responses’ (so I like to think) to a back burner of my brain. 

And then I glance at my watch. Class should have finished five minutes ago. 

In response to what I sense is the Spirit’s nudging, I point out the time. I’m not just being a wimp when I suggest that we wrap up. 

My teacher’s next words surprise me. “How about you sing me one of those Tibetan Christian songs I’ve been helping you learn before you go?” Never before has he asked me to actually sing. Usually we just go over the words and discuss the vocabulary.

I open the book to the song I’ve learnt most recently – one with a hauntingly beautiful Tibetan melody. I hear the patter of feet – my teacher’s wife is hurrying down the hallway. She stands in front of us with a broad smile as I stumble my way through a song in her language. It’s a very simple song, calling on all people on earth to praise Jehovah. 

And perhaps that is the best response I could give. This couple know about God, even though the concept of a Creator God is not part of their worldview.

That’s the bottom line. Jehovah exists – the pure one – the one who purifies us if only we throw ourselves on his mercy. He calls on us to recognise and praise him. What a privilege I have to sit in front of that shrine and do just that in stumbling Tibetan.

Homework

And that, my friends, was the story of the last ten minutes of my lesson yesterday. Now of course, I have to do a lot of homework. Much of it relates to language. But I also sensed God’s divine nudging to get this story down right away. I did that almost immediately in a voice-to-text note on my phone. And now I am writing it up in the form of a blog post.

Having been reminded again this past week that we participate with God in his work, and not the other way round, I hope that I will continue to act accordingly. I want to pay close attention both to the hospitable people I meet along the way as well as the one whose Spirit indwells me. I will keep learning to praise Jehovah in the language of the people from the mountaintops of Asia. And I will just be myself. That’s all I can do. That’s all God is asking of me. It’s his work, after all.