CLEAN

Cleanliness is relative. At least that is what I keep telling myself. I am a product of an anti-bacterial dousing, Lysol engulfing, don’t drink after anyone culture. I am learning to give that up really quickly, let me tell you. When it comes to the issues of neatness and germs, I lean towards the “I suffer from OCD tendencies,” category. Just ask my roommates. One of the toughest habits that I am quickly being forced to break is living according to my preconceived notions of cleanliness. Here, I cannot always wash my hands before I eat -- even if I just touched the hands of 80 small children. We share glasses. Many dishes are cleaned with no more than a quick swirl of hand and water. Have I drilled it enough that we don’t use toilet paper? Each morning I wake up to a find a small pile of the door by the door. The ants are literally eating away at the door. I can see through the door in some parts and I am just waiting for the day when I wake up to the sun shining bright through my non-existent door.

But, I will tell you one thing. I am learning to be humble and to let things go. When I see day after day the aching dirty soles of laboring feet I can better comprehend the biblical significance of feet washing and the precious gift to whom it was bestowed upon. Jesus ate with those considered unclean. Did you get that? He actually sat down and ate a meal with them. He lived among these people. And I can hardly go anywhere without my anti-bacterial hand gel and miniature roll of toilet paper. In India, there are often restrictions for women who are menstruating. There are some temples that women cannot enter in the entire span of their childbearing years. They are considered unclean. I think I am beginning to see that cleanliness is more than pressed clothes, clean ears, and fresh sheets. It is a way of living. Like a cold shower on a hot day, we should revel in the company and lives of other whether the society tells us they are clean or unclean.

SOLIDARITY

I have tossed this word around so many times over the year. I have heard it claimed at lectures and conferences and read it in the papers. As a tune stuck on repeat in my head, so is this word. What does it really mean to be in solidarity with others? To be in solidarity with the poor? To be in solidarity with the marginalized? If I am not considered a part of the “untouchable class” than how am I to place myself as one with these people? I have spent many days seeking to extrapolate more than the meaning of this noun- rather to understand how to live the word more as a verb form. What does it really look like to live in solidarity with others?

Well, for starts there is the idea of conformity. This approach would call me to give up my cultural identity and the underpinnings of my life as I know it. I could “do as the Romans.” But, I soon realize that the way in which we see and discover the world is shaped by the lens of our background. There really is no way to completely remove our experiences, traditions and history. Perhaps the lesson here is bring who we are into a new place with the flexibility and open mindedness to embrace and respect a culture different from our own with the knowledge that things will be different.

Well then, how about giving up all that I have and living on the streets with the impoverished themselves? Hmmm. I am not really sure what this is doing and if this “solution” offers anything more than to make me “feel better.” We have been entrusted with tools among which are education, health, food, and shelter that, if left unused, then we would be wasting the instruments by which we can serve others. The reality is we can choose simpler lifestyles without throwing it all out.

We can be in solidarity by sharing what we have and who we are- by regarding both the material wealth and also the intangible gifts that we possess as something that is entrusted in our care for the benefit of more than ourselves. I am far from discovering the perfect picture of solidarity, but I think I shared in a moment of it this week. It was really quite simple. Nothing spectacular. I didn’t really feel accomplished or like I made a huge revelation. It was just a simple moment that impacted my own being.

Against their garrulous protesting, I got to spend an hour weeding the grounds with the mess staff. In Malayalam I was given a list of excuses why I shouldn’t dare be among them working like this- I would get dirty, I had better things to do, I was the teacher. I was able to show them in my actions that I value what they do, I want them to allow me to share in their burden. I tried to convey in words that this was my home too, that I enjoyed being with them and doing this work I don’t want anyone (including myself or them) to put us on two different planes because I am a foreigner, or educated, or a teacher, or have more financial resources. Being in solidarity is sharing in struggles and causes, it’s placing yourself along side others, it’s sharing your gifts, it’s living out your life among the lives of others and affirming their lives, livelihood and existence in this world.