This winter break I found myself in Panama with a group of seven individuals from Rock 17, the young adult group from Virginia’s Peninsula Baptist Association. Our travels were spurred by the partnership between Virginia Baptists and the Panamanian Baptist Convention. The partnership grants Baptists from Virginia and Panama the opportunity to mutually learn and serve together.
My group’s main project revolved around forming relationships with the Kuna people of Panama. The Kuna are an indigenous population that has been slowly moving into the more populated areas of Panama. They are a very close-knit community as can be seen by the existence of specifically Kuna Baptist churches.
Andrew Gardner |
Our work with the Kuna was complicated by a number of factors — in addition to the obvious language barrier for many on our team, including me. Among them was the hectic nature of New Year’s Day as well as the passing of a major Christian leader within the Kuna community. Despite these complications, we pressed on.
The second church we worked with had a vibrant community of children and youth. As with any foreign mission trip, cultural and language barriers provided both awkward and comical situations, with me in particular.
In many respects, however, I feel that one must embrace these cultural differences and barriers in order to truly allow God to work through the uniqueness of an overseas mission experience. In this embrace, one’s understanding of the Church, God and faith might be shaken and even changed. I think it is important that Christians do not fear this possibility. Instead, we must allow these challenges to benefit us in the most beautiful of ways.
While at this church, I was struck by the gorgeous simplicity of the building in which we were working. In many respects the church was nothing more than a concrete slab with concrete walls, wooden pews and a tin roof. The stage was made of ornate tiles, a pulpit and a small mural that hung where one might a find baptistery.
This church was very different from many American churches that are often much more ornate and follow intricate architectural styles. I quickly noticed that not only did the church looked different from American churches, but it also functioned differently from American churches.
Within only a few minutes of our arrival in the church, a boy picked up a dodge ball and began to play soccer down the center aisle. As we began to play between, under and over the pews of this sanctuary — this place of worship — I wondered whether the pulpit and stage held a more reverent significance. Was the boy more timid to play across the stage, as perhaps it was perceived as more sacred than the pews — place of the laity?
No sooner had this question crossed my mind that the boy fired a shot at the pulpit as if to score a goal.
I slowly watched as the beautifully simplistic, wooden pews were moved in order to become sidelines. Religious order turned into a ballet of chaos and pandemonium. The sanctuary slowly turned into a volleyball court, a soccer field, a football field, a space for arts and crafts and a place to sit back and watch it all take place.
How interesting it is to walk into a church to hear the playing of sports. What does this say about our conceptions of what we might define as sacred space? It makes me think back to churches that one enters in silent reverence in order to commune with the divine. Is there something unique to the space that makes us do this, or do we project our own understanding on the space? Is it a combination of both?
In many ways I see both space and people working together in order to create meaning for one another. This sanctuary was not just any ordinary building that had multiple purposes such as a gym, a fellowship hall and a Sunday school room. No, this was a sanctuary. This was the house of God, and it was a church that for a brief period of time was also a children’s playground. It was a church that for a brief period of time heard the melodious hymns of bouncing balls, shouting kids and chattering youth.
Certainly we come from a different culture. Space is defined differently in America, and that is perfectly fine. These cultural differences in understanding space, however, help us understand ourselves better. Why might we be silent entering church? Why not turn a sanctuary into a soccer field?
As churches begin to face financial difficulties, maintaining our houses of worship becomes a challenge. These challenges must be met with creative ways of understanding how we define our sacred space.
How can we understand ourselves in order to utilize our space more effectively and more faithfully? This might not be the most common observation from a cross-cultural mission experience, but it stemmed from the sound of a most uncommon hymn of praise emerging from a simple church echoing up throughout the heavens.
Andrew Gardner ([email protected]) of Yorktown, Va., is a recent graduate of the College of William & Mary and a student at Wake Forest University School of Divinity.