Communion at Kalimela parish.

My memory stick is full— not just the one in my camera; the one in my brain, too… I’m very eager to go home and be with my wife, but also anxious about how little time I have left in Tabora. I’m frustrated with my slow progress in learning Swahili... (Feast of the Holy Cross, September 14)

After last weekend’s trip to the Urombo Deanery (September 11-13), I’m having trouble remembering the differences between one parish or congregation and another. We visited 5 parishes (6 congregations), taking part in 5 Confirmation services and the dedication of one new church building.


With the Confirmands at Kalimela. They didn't have enough of the leis for everyone to wear them, so they passed them around for individual pictures.

Acts 19:1-17 and John 14:12-17 have been the Propers at every Confirmation service so far. The Bishop instructs the assigned preacher to preach about the Holy Spirit. I preached Saturday morning in Mungono and Sunday morning in Urombo. During my Saturday sermon, every time I finished telling of a healing I had personally experienced through the power of the Holy Spirit, or observed in someone else, the congregation broke into loud applause and cheering.


Mungono Confirmation-- the Gospel reading. (My camera was propped on top of some books.)

The Bishop kindly used the word “inspiring” to describe my sermon Saturday morning, but it was tame by African standards. That afternoon in Nsenga parish we dedicated the building for St. John’s in one of the villages and proceeded to Nsenga town, to dedicate the new rectory and hold Confirmation.

At the Nsenga Confirmation, one of the Rural Deans in the Bishop’s entourage preached for more than an hour. At the beginning he started a fire on the chancel steps to provide one of his illustrations. Later, with shouting and dancing, he called down the Holy Spirit on the congregation. People were in tears, repenting, begging God for the gifts of the Spirit; one of the confirmands fell to the ground and was carried out of the building to be delivered of demonic oppression. She returned to the church in time to receive Confirmation with the rest of the candidates.

As an Australian missionary here said to me, during another service in another place: “When you go to church in Africa, you never know what will happen next.”

One confirmand in Urombo on Sunday was a man who, until about a year ago, was a Muslim. We had supper at his house on Saturday evening and were privileged to hear his testimony of answered prayer, and of a family unified under the Lord Jesus. His home has become a gathering place for Christians in that town.

We continue to receive offerings in kind (as well as cash). Saturday afternoon in Nsenga we received a large bunch (more like a tree branch) of bananas. Probably 85 in the bunch. I think we acquired some sacks of rice along the way, too. The offering Sunday morning in Urambo included a live chicken for the Bishop. The offering basket was brought forward with the chicken nesting on a pile of paper money.

When the basket was set down, the chicken squawked, flapped her wings, and upset the basket. Later in the service, one of the lay elders auctioned the chicken. The going price at the market would be a little over $5. A man in the congregation—I think he was one of the guests, a local government dignitary— bought the chicken for about $32. The Bishop doesn’t need another chicken, and the diocese needs the cash more.

Our last stop of the day was in Nkulusi village. The offering there included a chicken also, but we had to transport that one back to Tabora with us. These chickens don’t do well on long rides over the bumpy roads. Fortunately none of us had to perform CPR on the chicken that afternoon.


Bananas at the offering

In each church that Sunday-- at Urombo in the morning and Nkulusi that afternoon-- the kwaya sang songs calling on the congregation to have compassion for the albinos (pronounced “awl- bean-oze”). I have only seen one African albino in the time that I’ve been here, but I’ve seen news programs about them on TV. Some people fear them or have superstitious ideas about them. Some albinos have had acid thrown on them to disfigure them. A more serious threat is that people abduct them to sell their body parts to witch doctors for magical purposes. Fathers have abandoned their families because they couldn’t live with the pressure of having an albino child. Families with albino children have come to the local government here in Tabora seeking protection.

At every church we stopped at, the Bishop had a word of challenge or encouragement, and a promise of some kind of help. In Mungono the Bishop promised a large contribution to help them complete their roof. In just about every place he invited people to attend the Bible College to be trained as catechists and evangelists. If the kwaya had no instruments, he urged them to get a keyboard. In Nkulusi we dedicated a keyboard the church had just acquired, but until they get a generator, an amp, and speakers, they won’t be able to do much with it.

The day began on a solemn note. When I went to attend 7:30 morning prayer, I found a knot of people gathered around the night watchman. He was describing how a motorbike (piki-piki) was stolen from the compound during the night. (Tuesday, September 15)

The piki-piki was a gift from a Baptist congregation in the US, for use by the Evangelism Department. According to the night watchman, at about 3 a.m. he heard a noise behind the guest house. While he was investigating that, some person or persons cut the chain link fence and removed the piki-piki. The police don’t offer much hope for recovering the piki-piki. Their first response was to hold the night watchman for questioning. Standard police procedure here. As far as I know, no one at the Diocese accuses him of any involvement. I was glad to see him back on the job a few nights later. But the staff here are feeling wounded and discouraged because of the theft. There are no funds to go out and buy another piki-piki.

Stand firm, therefore, having fastened on the belt of truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and as shoes for your feet having put on the readiness given by the gospel of peace. (Ephesians 6:15)

On Friday, September 18, I taught my last class at the Bible College, and said goodbye to the students. I had spent the week teaching about praying the Psalms. It has surprised me that not one of the services I have attended has included any of the biblical Psalms, prayed or read. I have been impressed with the students at the Bible College, their care in reading the Bible, and their readiness to share the Gospel of peace wherever the Bishop should send them. They gave me a verse to take home to the congregation in Hulls Cove:

“Therefore stay awake, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming.” (Matthew 24:42)

On Saturday, September 19, I paid another visit to St. John’s, Isevya, to see the Compassion project in action. I visited with the staff, talked with the children, and prayed with them. This Compassion project serves 250 children. One hundred sixty now have sponsors. At the Saturday morning program they receive a nutritious meal, social services, mentoring, and Christian instruction.

Sunday, September 20, I returned to Isevya to preach at St. John’s. The Gospel reading, according the lectionary in use here, was Jesus’ words from Matthew 6:24-34. “…Therefore, I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing.” I considered choosing some other passage to preach on, but decided that abiding by the lectionary was part of my commitment to obey local Church authority.

I told the congregation that I had a credibility problem. I could understand if they resented some affluent mzungu coming over from the US and telling them not to be anxious about food, clothing, and shelter. “Let him live my life,” I could imagine them saying, “let him struggle as I do to feed and shelter my family, and then talk to me about not being anxious.” I told them that I believed Jesus’ words have authority, and are addressed to rich and poor alike. I told them that freedom and security aren’t found in money alone. Our experience in the US is that no amount is ever enough.

It’s not that God wants the people of Isevya or anyone else to be poor. He wants us to trust that he is a good God who knows our needs; and he wants us to be free to obey him, in whatever circumstances we find ourselves. I told them how Bishop Makaya had repeatedly said to me, “God has a purpose for you to come to Tabora.” Maybe that purpose is partly to unsettle my conscience about the fact that within the same Body of Christ there are rich Americans and hungry Africans (not to mention rich and poor Americans).

Maybe I’ve been here long enough to make some general observations about the Church here in Tabora Diocese.

Church Growth. In more than half of the villages, there’s the church building they’ve outgrown, and the new church they’re building. (In some cases, the new church they’ve already built.) It is assumed that healthy congregations grow. Growth is not taken for granted. The maturity of those already in the Church is essential to church growth. Maturity itself can’t be taken for granted, either. Just as in the US, there are lots of pressures to divide one’s loyalties. In this culture some of those pressures come from Islam and the witch doctors.

Evangelists. A parish might consist of 8 congregations, served by one priest. In each congregation, there are one or more evangelists. The term “catechist” and “evangelist” are used interchangeably. As far as I know, every priest I’ve met in this Diocese served previously for a number of years as an evangelist, and most of them have been church planters before ordination.

The Bible College graduates 30-40 evangelists for the Diocese every year. The students I’m teaching at the Bible College are preparing for service as evangelists (and catechists). After completing the training, they are commissioned; provided bicycles (if there are funds for bicycles); and sent. They take their families and go where they’re told. In the congregations, in the absence of a priest, they function as pastors, except that they don’t administer the Sacraments. They lead worship; visit homes; hold classes for new Christians; and teach members of the congregation how to share the Gospel.

In their training they are taught self-reliance, namely, how to support themselves financially (or at least subsist; most of them never see much cash). They receive some small compensation from church offerings. But if they don’t know how to grow their own food, they don’t eat.

The Diocese refers to evangelism, especially visiting from house to house, as mawindo (hunting; the hunt). Not too far from what Jesus said: “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men.” (Matthew 4:19) Fishing is a violent image (from the fish’s perspective), and so is hunting. Bonhoeffer’s opening words in The Cost of Discipleship (if I remember correctly) are: “When Christ calls a man, he calls him to die.”

The evangelists here say that the “weapon” of their hunting is personal testimony.

The Canons of the Episcopal Church (USA) allow for the Bishop to license Catechists (along with Lay Eucharistic Ministers, Lay Readers, and Lay Preachers). I wonder whether there are currently any licensed Catechists in any US diocese.

Kwaya. Every congregation has a kwaya, sometimes more than one. Some of them are equipped with keyboard, microphones, amplifiers, maybe some other instruments. In some of the smaller village churches they sing a cappella, with clapped hands for percussion. The accompaniment in Nkulusi was a couple wooden blocks struck together. With or without instruments, I thought they all sounded great. Each congregation has a few strong soloists, and one or more composers. As far as I know, they have had little or no formal training. Their material comes from the Holy Spirit and meditation on Scripture.

The Bishop pushes each congregation to have a strong kwaya because he sees it as a draw for the youth. Evidently, the more electronic noise, the better the attraction.

The Pastors. The pastors and their wives are highly respected, as far as I can tell. I’ve been to two ordination services (a total of 5 priests ordained). It seems that they are as much the ordination of the pastors’ wives as of the pastors themselves. I saw more than one ordinand’s wife in tears, contemplating (as I suppose) the responsibilities they were taking on.

The financial pressures are hard on clergy families. The pastors are poorly paid, even by Third World standards. The rural pastors more poorly than any. Their monthly cash salary might be about $16 (an increase from a few years ago). They grow some of their own food, and parishioners give them food; but to send their children to school they need cash. The Bishop does his best to help with school fees for the children, and to subsidize improvements in the rectories. The pastors’ respect declines in the eyes of their congregation if they see the pastor “too involved” in growing his food or supplementing his income with some other marketable skill.

None of the rectories I visited in the Urombo Deanery (and only one in the Kahama Deanery) had electricity. Not even the residence of the Uramabo Rural Dean himself, even though electricity is now available in Urombo. In the Mungono rectory, I was shown the “fridge”: a large clay jar partly filled with water to keep food cool. It was just as big as it needed to be. No one has a lot of perishable food that needs storing in a cool place.


The rectory in Mungono

About halfway through my July retreat, while engaged in the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius, my spiritual director instructed me to examine the “deceits of Satan,” including riches. In what way do I prefer riches to the call of Jesus Christ? What can I add to my life that is more precious than being created and redeemed in Christ? The outcome of this exercise was to pray to receive the grace of spiritual poverty; the grace to live in the awareness that everything I have is a gift from God; the grace to let my life and service proceed in God’s will, indifferent to wealth and poverty; and the grace to follow Jesus in actual poverty IF God chooses that for me.

Easier said than done.