This evening I bring you the promised completion of
my first entry on Chalco. As I finished prayers this evening, I wondered what I would say in this entry-- to be frank, I feel as though a lot of what I have typed in this blog-of-Mexico has been straw. I do not feel as though I have conveyed the powerful lessons which God has been giving me during my time here. Nor do I feel that I have conveyed the urgency in which we must respond. Even more, nor do I feel that I have conveyed how we must respond-- because, well, I'm not quite sure how we are called to respond. Perhaps the old phrase, "to each his own," applies here.
How are we being called to live the universal call to holiness?
Enough of random musings. This is Chalco.
We boarded our mini-bus in the morning and rode an hour east to Chalco,
one of the poorest sections in Mexico City.
We saw many disturbing things along the way: much grafitti, burned out cars, mud streets, homes on the verge of collapse, and people looking for something to do-- maybe for some meaning in life too.
It was an interesting ride there and back. What has always struck me as I traverse Mexico and Mexico City is that the country is so young. There are so many young men and women, teens, children, babies. I suppose I wouldn't be surprised by this had 40 million Americans not
been aborted in the past 30 years. And
that figure is being generous.
Yet, it was again sad to see so many young people moseying down the Chalco streets during school hours. As I learned
in Malinalco when I personally experienced a tremendous rate of illiteracy, poverty's priority is not often education. (How much a priority for the rich should be to educate the poor, then?)
We arrived at the
Altius Foundation's school and medical center. The school is a K-12 grade, co-ed institution that is known for bringing hope, discipline, holistic education, pride, and life to an often hopeless and lifeless community.
As we approached the gym, I was surprised to learn that the school had been founded 15 years ago, had grown tremendously, and had experienced extraordinary success. There were quite a few kids smiling in the courtyards as we passed through to the gym-- a profound contrast to the faces often seen in the streets of Chalco.
Now, we were told that, before arriving at the school, we were just going for a visit and a tour. But, when we entered the gym, we were greeted by what seemed to be the entire primary school. It was very cool to see-- and a little intimidating. Here we are, dressed in our blacks and, well, the only white, tall guys in a setting of uniformed Mexican children. All eyes are on us, it seems.
But this feeling of self-consciousness would not end there. Instead of huddling in the corner like a bunch of freshmen at a high school mixer, the Director of the Foundation and the Principal of the School brought us up to the front of the gym-- and not just there, but to a platform whereupon there were chairs. Empty chairs. And we were being told to sit on them.
"Look, I'm just here for a tour. I'm not a guest of honor..." I thought to myself.
"Too bad," the school's invitation for us to sit said. "You're just going to have to be our guests of honor."
All of us seminarians did not know how to react (or, at least, I didn't). I wasn't expecting to sit on a stage in front of all the kids and with the Principal, Director, and important teachers. But, too late!: the Mexican anthem began to play and amazing young men and women presented the leaders of the school with the Colors.
At this point, none of us knew what was about to happen, but we were all smiling large. We had been wonderfully welcomed-- and how else could we respond but with humility and simple gratitude; for who ever deserves to sit in a place of distinction? I know I did nothing to deserve being where I was. All I can say is this:
Pure. Gift.
During the next hour, we were treated to an all-school assembly wherein the students performed a variety of dance routines. It was the end of the school year for them, and we were there for the celebration.
I'm only 27, but as I sat there on stage and watched pure joy in action, I had a simple thought: "unless you become like little children, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven."
Did I mention that there was a TON of energy in this gym? The music was rocking, the kids were dancing, and there wasn't-- for all that I can recall-- a moment where sadness or depression of anxiety entered in. There was no room for such hopelessness. Look at the smiles on these kids.
This was not at all what I expected from the poorest section of Mexico City.
After the warm welcome and assembly, we were given a tour. Here, we passed a soccerfield and baseball field, as well as a much-enjoyed playground. All of this was donated. By one person.
And wouldn't you know it? As we passed the soccer field, one of the boys took a shot which glanced over the fence.... and trickled right past me. Now, I love soccer and there were no more than a few moments where, as I walked by, that I wished I could play, if only to bring more smiles by showing a few eighth graders how a "gringo" plays "futbol." Well, God gave me a simple answer to my simple request: this errantly shot soccer ball. I picked it up, a few of the boys shouted (as boys do) their requests for the return of the ball, and I threw the ball in "soccer style"-- a simple nod to the guys that "if I could, I would be out there with you."
Instead, and with no regrets, I followed the group of seminarians and the Director into various classrooms throughout the school.
Every classroom was very well-behaved and very welcoming. They would stand when we entered, stand when we left, and greet us in as best an English voice they knew how. They tried so hard to speak English. Again, I was humbled. I think we all were.
We visited a math class, an English class, and a music class-- and in each one I found well-behaved, well-disciplined, hard-working students guided by a competent teacher. The rooms themselves were simple: concrete walls, metal desks. But there was something going on here that transcended the poverty which nearly permeated the brick walls of the school.
And that something was hope. There was hope here: hope that hard work could change a life; that hard work could radically and fundamentally alter the course of a life; that discipline and integrity could break any circuitous system of destruction-- and bring real, tangible joy.
As we exited the school, I began to think: "Do we have anything like this in the States?" and "Can our public school system brag of results anywhere close
to those which the Altius school possesses?" I don't know.
Yet, what really sets the school apart from anything that I have ever seen is that there is, on the same plot of ground as the school, a medical and teaching center.
Here, there are all kinds of services for the community. They are mostly medical services, but this is what is needed in the community.
Yet, you might be thinking: "This community is poor. How can they afford the medical costs? It's not like they have insurance." This is true. The community is poor and cannot afford the high cost of medical services. The Altius Foundation, through generous benefactors, is able to offer quality diagnosis and treatment at very low costs. How low? Well, whereas you would be asked for a $50.00 co-pay at your family practicioner, here the cost is a mere $3.50 for the visit.
Mothers can get ultrasounds and ob-gyn care. Families can have dental work done. Diseases which are easily treated in the States but which can be deadly in Chalco-- these are easily treated here.
Yet, again, the Foundation is not simply about treatment, but about holistic improvement. In addition to the medical center, which improves the quality of life of the community, there is also an adult education enter. Here, the parents of the children in the program are taught some basic living skills: how to brush one's teeth and why daily hygiene is important, how to manage one's money, how to grow in and live a moral life, etc.
The motivation is that, as these families improve from the inside out, so too will the community as a whole: from the inside-out. And so, when the parents finish the program, they can share what they know. And the kids, when they graduate from the school, they can go on to University-- and, hopefully, return with skills to continue the improvement of their hometown.
There is treatment and there is renewal. There is a weeding out the bad and a purification of the good. There is knowledge, there is discipline, there is joy. Oh, what power therein lies!
And how it finds its roots in Christ!
15 years. I think in 15 more, Chalco is going to be a extraordinarily different town. It already is.
All of these pictures are courtesy of Glenn, the Salsa-fiend Seminarian. Thanks, brother!
Labels: evangelization, Mexico, mission
