Lessons and Carols

Merry Christmas to all! Since the birth of Jesus is in the Koran, we are given freedom by the university to use their auditorium every year to do a lessons and carols program open to the public. This year about 600 people came!

With fifteen choirs, about as many languages and many more countries represented - this program is a beautiful picture of heaven - many nationalities, languages and people worshiping God together! Our chaplain, Karen Smith, organizes this event and invites choirs from all over Morocco. They come mostly from sub-Saharan countries (e.g. Nigeria and DR Congo) and boy, do they know how to have fun on stage! Most are here in Morocco for work, college, or as refugees.

A highlight for me was to hear "O Holy Night" and "Ave Maria" sung African-style!

Picture 1: Who needs an A-frame ladder to hang an enormous wreath from the roof? We have willing/crazy college students!
Picture 2: Our little AUI choir - about half faculty and half exchange students. We were the calm choir that didn't dance!
Picture 3: The kids (with the help of three cousins) sang "Angels we have heard on High."

Worthy is the Lamb

Please read the entry below this first in order to understand this one!

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On the morning of Eid Adha, I played our "Messiah" CD. As "Surely He hath borne our griefs" and "All we like sheep have gone astray" played - I felt the weight of the event that was taking place all over the world at that very moment. During "Worthy is the Lamb," tears came as my mind filled with hazy images of father after father after father raising their knives, swooping down to slit their lamb's throat in a rhythmic symbolic dance before their God. Lambs bleating to death . . . bleeding to death as tears run down the cheeks of the children, spatter on the floor and mingle with the blood of the lambs that runs down the father's legs, spilling out the door and joining the blood of other sacrifices washing down the road in the cold rain. And with the blood runs the hope of people who pray that the death of this sheep will somehow bring them closer to God.

"Worthy is the Lamb, that was slain. And hath delivered us to God by His blood. "

Eid Mobarak! (Congratulations)

"I DON'T WANT TO HEAR ANY MORE TALKING ABOUT PEOPLE KILLING SHEEP!!!" Wailed Kendra the other day. For every few minutes along the entire way to and from Meknes we had seen someone carrying, pulling along, or driving home their chosen sacrifice. "OK, honey, we won't talk about it any more today" I promised. I could have said, ". . . but tomorrow we get to go to Lotfi's house and watch a sheep get his throat slit, bleed to death, be chopped apart and then we get to eat the brain, liver and kidneys!" Wisely, I decided to withhold this information from her.
On the 10th day of the Muslim month of Haj falls what Muslims call Eid Adha - the celebration of the sacrifice. During the month of Haj, Muslims from around the world travel to Mecca on a pilgrimage. While there they do many reenactments all from the life of Abraham. The most important one is the sacrificing of a sheep in commemoration of when Abraham was asked by God to sacrifice his son (they say Ishmael, we say Isaac - so here when we talk about it we say "son"). On the same day this is done in Mecca, all other Muslims around the world also sacrifice a sheep, lamb or goat (the low fat item on the menu) as an act of solidarity and remembrance.

When Abraham had shown the faith to do this act of ultimate obedience believing his son would be raised from the dead, God stopped him and showed him a ram in the thicket. Abraham sacrificed the ram as a substitute. Although we place great significance on this story - the ram being a foreshadowing of Jesus himself taking our place and paying the penalty for sin - Muslims at least here do not seem to in the discussions we have had. They say that it is simply a story they remember. "Oh yes"- said our host - "and you are to forgive everyone too on this day." Since their prophet had heard many of the stories in the Old Testament from the Jews and Christians who surrounded him, many of the same stories are in their book, but often are in a different order and not held together by the deep significance and meaning behind them. Often people tell us they have no idea why they are celebrating a certain holiday. From others we have heard the lamb bears their sins and their sins die with the sheep. Remind you of anything? But here, we have never heard this explanation.

One thing Muslims are to do before the sacrifice is to befriend the sheep - get attached. They (especially the children) are to feed it a special meal, pet it and love it. This way when they kill the sheep - it is truly a sacrifice.

Above is Gerald pictured standing next to the carcass holding the fat of the sheep. Notice the head, hoofs and skin at the bottom left. Mercifully since Lotfi never told us when to come, we missed the actual killing and came when things were mostly cleaned up. Kendra seemed to be able to handle that.

Here Gerald helps Lotfi wrap pieces of barbecued liver in strips of fat to cook for kebabs. Later we also ate the heart and the kidneys, but thankfully this particular family does not eat the brain! In case you ever find yourself in a situation where you would rather not eat the food placed in front of you, here are a few tips:

1. Drink a lot of water.
2. Eat a lot of bread - and make sure you are chewing it and smiling every time the host looks at you.
3. Only eat when the host is looking at you.
4. Either take tiny bites of your the food that makes you unhappy, or, if the host is really watching you, take a big bite and and wash it down like a horse pill.
5. Eat lots of the sides.
6. Smile happily, sit back, and pronounce you are full and happy.

These most excellent tips meant that I got away with exactly 1/2 piece of liver and one piece of heart or kidney. Gerald, on the other hand, ended up eating two whole skewers of something. He definitely gets the prize!

During the next two days of Eid, they will get into the meat part of the sheep. Every nuclear family must sacrifice an entire sheep or goat, so that means there are a lot of people giving meat away to those who cannot afford a sheep since most people do not have refrigerators. Many have a terrible time affording the sheep - we have heard some buy it on a monthly payment plan with 600% interest! But there is great pressure from tradition for every family to sacrifice although this is not written in their book.

Here we are all together right before we had to go. Lotfi is a carpenter who has made several things for us. But his passion has been to connect people from other cultures to Morocco by forming an organization called "Cultures Bridge." Through it he has hosted and organized many tour groups and film-making crews. He is an amazing man with huge dreams and many projects already started. His lovely wife, Roqia, is a real sweetheart and they are truly in love with each other - something we do not notice here very much. With six beautiful children from the age of twelve down to nine months, the house is never boring! Their landlord has told them they have to move out so they are trying to find another place to live. They are a very special family to us and it was wonderful to spend Eid with them!

Classmates

Here is a picture of Katrina in her classroom of the AUI-French-Embassy-No-One-Actually-Knows-Who-Is-In-Charge school. Next to her is Mehdi, a rather infamous classmate who delights in poking and harassing the girls on either side of him. Next is Aicsha, a Moroccan-German friend who also lives across the hall from us. One other girl in the class is American but otherwise the children are all Moroccan.

Katrina is in C.P. - the French equivalent of first grade. On the other side of this classroom is C.E. 1 & C.E. 2 (second and third grade) - so the class has little desks, medium-sized desks, and big desks! In the back is Katrina's teacher, Emilie, who has done a fabulous job of making Katrina feel comfortable and who constantly works above and beyond expectations for her students.

Katrina walks the 200 steps (Gerald counted . . . ) to and from school every day by herself now. The hours are 8 - 12, home for lunch, then 1:30 - 3:30.
This is Kendra is her preschool classroom at a little private school called "Le Sepain." The name means "The Fir Tree" as well as "The Christmas Tree" which explains why they have a little dilapidated Christmas tree year-round in the entryway.

Kendra's teacher, Maria, is a very kind, loving woman who makes sure each child has been well-kissed Moroccan style as soon as they enter the door. The other teacher Kendra calls "the potty teacher" but I'm sure she has another name too! The teachers in this school generally do not have any teacher training at all, which is a hard one for me to stomach. Don't be fooled by all the art supplies in the back. In the year that either Katrina or Kendra have attended this school they have painted twice! But the main point of Kendra going is to learn a little French and to have Moroccan friends, so it works just fine.

The reason Kendra doesn't go to Katrina's school is that there they insist she goes to school all day, every day. Here they are flexible and so she only goes three mornings a week.

Advent

In recent years I have discovered the value of celebrating Advent. Without special meditations and a deliberate effort to stop in the midst of the season, Christmas comes in a flurry and leaves in a flurry even over here. And via the Internet it is even possible to feel your rushing in the west from all the way over here!

There is something precious about preparing our hearts and minds for this time of year that adds so much depth to Christmas. Our pastor has been sending us daily advent meditations and I am passing this one along to you.

Because it is counter-cultural to celebrate advent/Christmas here, I added a few verses (in italics) at the end.

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Advent is one of the most counter-cultural things we can do.

While the culture says, “Get busy, hurry,”
Advent says “Wait, be still.”

The culture says, “Buy things. Eat. Drink. Indulge yourselves and each other.”
Advent says, “Take the time to experience and understand your deep longings and let them take you to a deeper understanding of yourself and ultimately to God where you can be truly satisfied.”

The culture says, “Don’t think too much about the cost or the need. You’ll work it out somehow later.”
Advent says, “Prepare yourself. Understand who you are in relationship to God’s coming into the world.”

The culture says, “You know enough about everything. You already understand. You don’t need to listen.”
Advent says, “Honor what you have learned, but know the peace of realizing there are understandings beyond your own knowledge and mysteries you approach but cannot fully comprehend.”

The culture says, “Defend yourself. Justify yourself and your position.”
Advent says, “It is good news to admit the places and ways you have fallen short and to let them go. This will make space for love to be born in you once again.”

The culture says, “Peace comes when we know we are safe.When we have more power than those who are different or might threaten us.”
Advent says, “Peace comes when we are open to our commonality as God’s children and when we let love give us freedom from our fear.”

The culture says, “Faith is knowing what is right and sharing faith is convincing others of our rightness.”
Advent says, “God is being born in us. How does God in you want to live and shine in the world and in relationship to others?”

This culture says, "Don't celebrate advent - no one else is"
Advent says, "God came to all cultures."

This culture says, "Hide your faith and don't mention it to us."
Advent says, "Spread joy and peace in gentle ways."

This culture says, "God is distant and unloving."
Advent says, "God is with us."

I can think of nothing more counter cultural transcending the four weeks before Christmas observing Advent. Come Lord Jesus. Come in me. Come in us.

Tere Canzoneri

Lost in Translation

Sitting through a three-hour parent meeting in French I contemplate my options:

1. Listen intensely in hopes that I might catch the gist of what is happening.

2. Tune out and daydream.

3. Try to remember what it was like to have an IQ.

4. Walk out.

5. Find a sympathetic person to translate every now and then.

I, trying to be responsible, chose #1 & #5. OK, so I might have hit on #2 & #3 too. And I did almost slip out. You see, there is something terribly humiliating about being the only one in the room that needs translation. The director never stops to leave time for my trusty translator, Karen, to tell me what is going on. In another long meeting, I make a passionate request to get the teacher some more help (she has three grade levels and kids with an overall low level of French). Then I find out they had just addressed this problem. Oops.

Another time Katrina got an assignment wrong and cried about it in class. Later, as the kids pranced out of school they announced to me, "Katrina didn't know what to do because YOU don't know French!" Then I found out the Arabic teacher doesn't give Katrina any homework because I can't read Arabic. I informed them I jolly well do (well, at a first-grade level - maybe) and promptly got all Katrina's back homework for the year. Of course, it's in classical Arabic and not in Moroccan Arabic, so I guess I'm not much help after all.

Every day for the first few weeks Katrina and I spent hours over her homework. Me, with my French dictionary - and Katrina with her glasses and little pencils which break continually from trying desperately to write everything in cursive (they are expected to write in cursive by age 6). From the beginning I understood over half of the instructions - and still homework time is intense and hard. What if I didn't know any French at all? Just a few weeks ago, I misunderstood an assignment and had Katrina memorize 16 lines of a poem in French - a painful, tear-filled process. She finally got it and then we found out she had memorized the wrong poem. Sigh.

Monday Katrina proudly brought home her very first library book - and I couldn't read it to her. So I worked for over an hour with Karen getting the pronunciation and translation correct and am now ready to read three of the four little chapters to her.

All this has given me a whole new perspective on immigrants. How must it feel to be in a brand-new country in full culture shock and then have to help children get through school - at much higher grades? Personally, this whole experience has made me feel just plain stupid. So how would it feel to be a PhD and have no clue what your 6-year-old has to do? No one knows (or cares) how smart you may be. All of a sudden the facts are clear - you can't do first grade.

And that reminds me of what one of my special ed students said several years back. For some reason I wowed him with my "amazing" knowledge on something. His awed response was, "Wow! Mrs. Reimary - did you went to first grade???"

Ah, just remembering his comment makes me feel better already!