Women's conference

Although I am back from my trip, there are still some things I want to tell you about.

The weekend before I left, I attended the Mizoram Presbyterian women's conference.  This is what 10,000 people looks like:

The women in front are dancing, sort of.  The dancing in the Presbyterian churches here is more like walking around in a circle, always counter-clockwise, I was informed.  All the indigenous praise music is a steady 4/4 beat in major keys and most of the melodies would be perfectly at home in a US country-western bar.  Of course, the lyrics are praising God and Jesus.  This steady rhythm, marked by a drum that resembles our bass drum, lends itself to just walking around in time to the music.

The event was held in a temporary structure which is owned by the church and erected at the site which is chosen for that year.  The women are crammed onto low, backless benches.  This picture is taken from the stage, where I was privileged to sit.  My friend who took me is the head of the group of theologically trained women in Mizoram and as a person of consequence, she is entitled to sit on the stage in a plastic lawn chair with arms and a back.  I became a celebrity as the only white person there.  I was also in view of everyone, which became a problem as I walked through the crowd and people began pulling at my clothes in order to get me to stop and take pictures with them.

Unfortunately it rained most of the weekend.  We were just about up to our ankles in mud.  In some places, they had laid down boards to walk on.  In some places, there were a few scattered bricks.  I, having no illusions about style, wore my athletic shoes.  On the other hand, most of the attendees were all dressed up, including heels. 

I was told that some of the people were 'charismatic', but I was not expecting to see a few women turning somersaults in the mire, some passed out on the mud-covered astroturf, and some just moaning and wailing.  The Mizo people are very non-judgmental, but it also appears that they have very little discernment.  On the last day, one woman who was covered from head-to-toe in mud was throwing handfuls of mud at the participants and saying "God bless you."  When I casually asked if anyone was going to cast the demon out of her, I was told that no one can judge another person's spirituality.  Their recommended reaction is to just ignore her.  Some on the platform with me were snickering.

Although I could not understand the sermons, I got the gist of the direction of the main speaker.  He was really excellent, solidly capturing the attention of the people.  The theme of the conference was "Prepare to meet your God" from Amos 4:12. His first sermon was about returning to 'Poppa'.  He told a well-known story in English about a man who wanted to be reconciled to his son and put a an anonymous ad in the paper: meet me at the Hotel Montana, all is forgiven, Poppa.  Eight hundred boys showed up for that meeting.  The preacher's point was to be reconciled to God.  During his second sermon, he said in English 'simple gospel' and mentioned Abraham and Moses enough for me to know that he was expressing anti-nomian sentiments.  I didn't ask anyone for the translation; I got one from the folks I met in the evening.

Since the whole conference was in Mizo, I was mentally exhausted after the four sessions I attended, in addition to being chased as some commodity for picture taking.   I opted to stay back in our lodging on Sunday night.  The house is owned by Seventh Day Adventists, of whom there are very few in Mizoram.  These people own a bakery and the lady of the house came up to bring me some fresh bread.  She related to me that she had told her father of my presence, a white Jewish lady staying in the apartment upstairs.  She said he had never met a Jew in his life, so I asked her if she wanted me to come downstairs with her.  She was delighted.

Mr. Hrangsata (pronounced 'shrangsata') is 89 years old and his wife passed away just six months ago.  His family was in the Presbyterian church when he was growing up, until his brother went to work in Burma and brought back the 'Sabbath truth.'  The whole family began to follow SDA teachings, including Sabbath and Biblical dietary laws.  Hrangsata was 27 years old at the time.  They were the only family in their village to believe and came under persecution by the rest of the village.  He is still quite sharp and had lots of questions about Israel and the Palestinians.  Unfortunately, he does not speak any English, so the conversation was a bit strained.  He expressed his own frustration at this, saying that if only I spoke Mizo, he would have so many questions to ask me.  After his daughter translated the history of Israel and the so-called Palestinians from my English account, he came to the conclusion that the problem will not be solved.  Yes, I agreed, it is a 4,000 year old problem that only the return of Jesus will solve.

It was so wonderful for me to be able to speak with some like-minded believers after being exposed to some of the general deception at the conference.  The old man and his family had been watching it live on the television and we agreed that teaching in holiness is generally lacking. It was also an honor for me to be able to fulfill the dream of one old man, to meet a Jew.  

back stateside

Shalom.  I have arrived back to Georgia safely and am recuperating from a very long trip.  I post more here soon.
Thank you so much for your prayers.

passover

Thank you everyone for your prayers and follow-up questions about the Passover.  I have been completely out of pocket, prisoner of the women's conference in Serchhip (yes, there are 2 'h's). More about that another time.

The Passover was a tremendous success. The OT faculty went out of their way to find lamb.  They bought 3 animals and had them chopped into 400 pieces.  Rami cooked it all and it was delicious!  Many of the students and faculty had never eaten it before.  We had about 185 people in attendance and of the people that I spoke to, they were amazed at how clearly the Passover, what is called the Last Supper, communion, and the life of Yeshua were tied together.  They also videotaped the whole thing for future reference and kept the leftover matzah and my traditional haggadah for their museum.

Today I have some guests coming and then I need to pack.  I am on my way to the airport tomorrow morning about 11:00 am India time and then the very long flight back to the U.S.

I will continue to write a few more posts here after I get back to Georgia to cover some of the things that have happened the past few days.

I look forward to seeing/skyping/talking to everyone soon.  Thank you all for your prayers over this trip.  It would not have been possible without you.

spring has sprung

State tree of Mizoram called Herhse in Mizo, botanical name is mesua ferrea, also called iron wood or muscle wood

Pots of petunias

Weird cactus looking thing blooms even though it looks dead.  Couldn't find it on google.

Roses bloom all year around here.

Bottle brush trees or at least they look like what we call them in the US

Passover for 200

Shalom, friends.
Today I simply ask for your prayers for a Passover demonstration that I will do on Friday at 3:00 pm (Thursday 4:30 am east coast time).  All the students, faculty, and staff are invited.  If everyone shows up, it will be about 200 people.
I am so blessed that YH has opened the door for this to happen.  Almost since the day I arrived, the Old Testament faculty have been asking about it.  I actually packed one box of matzah which I will break into teeny, tiny pieces to use for the afikomen.
I was concerned about the horseradish because there is nothing like it here.  However, as I started to think about it, I realized that it is a very eastern European food. I began to research the history of maror and found a very detailed article online. http://halachicadventures.com/history-of-maror-and-horse-raddish/  Turns out, horseradish in no way fits the rabbinic parameters for the bitter herb.  They have something here which is called bitter gourd and looks like this:

Like everything else, they boil it and eat it cold.  I tasted some yesterday and it really is bitter.  We bought three kilograms today, along with 4 kilos of apples, which I am going to pressure cook and add cinnamon as a modified haroset.  The OT faculty are going to buy I don't know how many kilos of goat for their wives to roast in the small things which pass for ovens here.  It seems that lamb is too difficult to get.  The cook in the canteen is going to make us paratha, a flat, unleavened bread.
No big meal, just the essence of what Passover is, with a big emphasis on the new covenant and their understanding of communion.  Of course, as Mizo people love to sing, I will teach them 'dayenu' and 'hodu l'adonai ki tov'.  How can I resist singing 'hodu' in India?
Please pray that all would go smoothly and that blind eyes would be opened.
Thank you so much.

puan

Puan is the name for the traditional Mizo skirt.  It's just about 2 yards of woven fabric, worn wrapped around the waist with the end discreetly tucked in.  Several times I have been asked if I want to wear one and I decline.  What a disaster if I stand up and the skirt falls down!  Some of the women do wear belts around the waist to avert this possibility.

The other day was a national holiday, a secular day not celebrated by the College; nonetheless, many turned out in their finest.  The men have a traditional shirt which you can't see in this photo.  The plaid looks like this:

 The traditional colors for the women look like this:

 But you see every style and color in the stores:

 As far as I know, they are still hand woven.

Zira (husband) and Rami (wife) spent six years in Berkeley while Zira was getting his PhD.  They speak as good an English as is to be heard in these parts; their two young daughters are quite fluent.  Rami's parents live in the city but bought a plot of land in the country and the family is developing a farm so as to be more self-sufficient.  The two of them spend a lot of time out there, working the land and caring for the crops.

We went out to visit and Rami parked the car on the main road.  We had to walk down some very narrow paths on the edge of the hill.  One man coming up the hill gave me his bamboo walking stick, for which I was quite grateful.  Several times I had to hold Rami's hand taking steep downward steps.  I joked with her saying that I believe that the people are part mountain goat.

On the property, her parents have built one medium size hut, with a small kitchen and bedroom.  However, there is also a back room with three full-size puan looms.

The young lady who was working had a graph for the design, just as we would use for cross-stitch embroidery, or as I have seen used by Persian rug makers.  She told us it takes about one day to weave one skirt.

Down the hill was another building and I could hear more looms at work.  Rami's father, who introduced himself to me by saying, "I am 76 years old", was a high school teacher and speaks some English.  He told me there were 17 workers in the other building.  He started the business when he retired from teaching.

Rami asked me if I wanted to go back up the hill in the car with her parents' driver.  She told me he was an excellent driver, which they all seem to be, by necessity.  I told her that it is much easier for me to walk up than down, but she insisted.  So I got in the car and I found out the reason that she doesn't drive down to the property.  The road is still being built.  As we came around one curve, here was a big pile of rocks and the men hammering them into smaller pieces with which to pave the road.  Yes, breaking rocks in the hot sun is a reality here.

So the men began to throw the largest rocks to one side and eventually we drove past, two wheels on the dirt, and two wheels bouncing around on the pile of rocks.  I know we bottomed out 2 or 3 times.  I don't know what they make the cars out of here.  And when I finally got out at the market in Durtlang, I saw that the back tires were close to bald.

Yes, said Rami, I wanted you to have the experience.  And quite an experience it was.

Social works

"If seven maids with seven mops
Swept it for half a year.
Do you suppose," the Walrus said,
"That they could get it clear?"
"I doubt it," said the Carpenter,
And shed a bitter tear. --Lewis Carroll

Every Thursday all the students participate in social works, which consists of cleaning up the campus grounds.  Christmas decorations were still up when I arrived and so they have come down.  A fire break is to be dug to prevent the fires which come between winter and the rainy season.  If there is no break, the fires can run up the hillside onto the campus, into people’s gardens.  The students pick up trash (of which there is barely any; there are little garbage cans everywhere which say “keep ATC clean”) and sweep the streets with what passes for brooms here. They go into the wooded areas and clear away the brush.  I have seen them with wagons full of large, sawed pieces of log.  All the classrooms and faculty offices are swept and cleaned.

It's a very nice idea.  Not only do the students become responsible for their environment, they get some guaranteed time outdoors and time away from study.  They also have the opportunity to bond in different groups beside their class groups.  Students at the Bachelors level take all their classes with their grade level and are together in the same room all day long.

One of the main tasks is keeping the leaves off the streets.  For this task they use brooms like the one I use in my house, i.e., short.  Most of the people here are shorter than in the U.S., but there are a few fellows who are 6 feet tall.  Remember, the broom is 3 feet tall.  They clean the leaves out of graveled areas as well as the paved areas, but those brooms are just the stems of the grass, without the fluffy end.  And the leaves are endless, as the road is lined with many trees which are consistently shedding.  There are also other campus workers who remove leaves at other times during the week.

Being a good and moral citizen is emphasized as part of the degree program.  The other morning, as part of announcements, everyone was reminded to shut off the lights to their classrooms when leaving for lunch.  On Sunday evening, everyone was reminded to attend all the services in the chapel and on Monday morning, there was a surprise attendance call.  The masters students tend to be the most lax in attendance.  I don't know if there is any penalty for absence, aside from the shame of being outed as a bad citizen in front of the entire College.