Parable of the Prodigal Son

On Tuesday I had the opportunity to go to Phoenix 1- a gathering of believing 20-30somethings in the area.

It was an interesting new 'cultural experience' for this re-entry of mine, and I enjoyed meeting some of the people that my sisters interact with.

What really prompted this blog though, was some thoughts that started with a one-man skit that was performed that night. The guy that did it was pretty great- he was able to command the whole group's attention for about thirty minutes!

The story line? It was a re-enactment of the story commonly known as the Prodigal Son. The actor had modernized the story a bit, so I almost felt that I identified the story sooner than those around me.

He started out first as the rebellious younger son, striving to be let out of the house and out from under his father's heavy hand. Then the lights changed on the stage, and the actor became the responsible older brother, sighing heavily over his brother's follies. What totally struck me as different in this portrayal, however, is that right about when I thought the actor was going to be finished with the story... he came to the center of the stage and portrayed the father. The final act where the father bemoaned the choices of both of his sons gave me a new moment of insight into the older son.

Then today I read an article in Christianity Today, entitled, "Party Favors." In it the author posits that this parable is primarily about the older son, and not the younger one. This was interesting to me since I had just been thinking about these things from the other night. What really struck me, though is when the author began to wonder, as he says, " if, from Jesus' perspective, having a feast in one's honor is a blessing, but being invited to help the father host the banquet is a vastly greater gift."

Wow, right?!

I mean... I've always thought it was the younger brother that totally disrespected the father, but if you think about what a privilege it is to be part of a family and to be in such a position of honor and respect that you are asked to host the party with the head of the household and you turn in down?

Oh man.

And all these years when I self-identified with the older brother and felt so gypped by the younger son who got to go out and come back to a freakin' party... Little did I realize that not only did I 'stay home' and 'obey the rules'... but I also had started to reject the wonderful, immense joy of hosting with the Father. Ouch.

(This realization was given even more layers when I thought about all my experiences in Central Asia, with hosts who gave over and above just because they were being good hosts. Incredible to think about what the Father is offering to us in that cultural light.)

I want to end with the words of the author of the article, because she says it so much better than I could:

"As Jesus tells it, the Father is hosting a lavish banquet, and we're invited--not because of our own merit, but because he loves us. And there's more. He's invited us to help him throw the party--neither as servants nor as guests, but as family." -Carolyn Arends

More lessons in hospitality...

I still am amazed when I am given the opportunity to experience hospitality here.

It's incredible stuff.

This weekend two friends and I went to another city where we got to stay with one of my friend's friend's mother (follow?). Shania* was going to be at work when we arrived in her city, so she told us that she would have food waiting for us and that we should just let ourselves in to the apartment with her daughter's key.

So we did.

It was a miniscule little one bedroom (by American counting. Here it's called a two-room), on the fifth floor (no elevator) of an aparment complex that could be mistaken for any other cement apartment building in this country. It was small and decorated traditionally- the odd glitter wallpaper, an elaborately eccentric chandelier in the low ceilinged main room, all corners crowded with stuff (including large jars with pickled tomatoes and cucumbers in one room and a row of plants in the other), a wardrobe along one wall with a fold-out couch opposite in each room, and a teeny-tiny kitchen with a humming chest-high refrigerator and little table.

True to her word, she had food for us... and then she called my friend to say that she was going to come home from work early to fix us more food if we needed it (we really didn't). She came home and even though we had already eaten the wonderful plov and a cucumber tomato salad she had prepared-- she made us sit down and have tea and cheese sandwiches and chocolates with her.

We then left to scope out some of the city... in which we walked and got lost and walked and got lost and finally found our way again. At about 8pm I wanted a pick-me up in case we got lost on our way home, so we got some coffee and dessert. (I thought it was a good idea.)

And then we went back to Shania's apartment... and she had prepared a "light" evening meal for us. Now, I was not expecting to eat again after my coffee and dessert. However, after all the work that she had done to prepare us special pancakes and millet porridge and tea... well, I couldn't very well say no. Right?

The next morning, Shania had to leave early for work. However, she still stayed up that night (after she would not let us help her clean up the supper dishes), and made us these complex stuffed peppers to eat for lunch the next day. Yeah.

The next day we had a fairly busy day of walking a lot and getting lost a lot. It was a good day though. We came back for a late lunch of those stuffed peppers, and then we had a little hour nap. Shania came home while we were resting, and even though we explained that we were going to someone else's home that evening and that we were sure that they would feed us, and she did not need to make us anything special (we were not wrong!!)... she still kept asking us what we would like for an evening meal.

After talking with her, we left to go meet another family that were friends of friends. They did not know us at all, but because we were friends of friends, they gladly welcomed us over. (There is a great responsibility in becoming someone's friend- as I am slowly coming to truly appreciate here! It's serious business.) So when we finally rolled back to Shania's place, we were stuffed full of cake, fruit, chak-chak, cheese sandwiches, special dacha-grown yellow tomatoes, and lots and lots of tea... but Shania kept offering to cook us something! Finally, nothing would satisfy her except that we have another cup of tea before bed.

Ooof.

But all that is nothing.

On Sunday morning, she got up early to fix us a breakfast of buttery porridge and dried fruits. Then she not only took us to the bus stop, but she made sure we got on the right bus and paid for our fares. She came and tried a Sunday group with us, even though it clearly was not something she would do if we were not her guests. Then she took us walking to see the Flower Festival downtown- and kept calling us, "her girls" :D

Then we hurried back to her place (she again paid our bus fare), where she had prepared another batch of delicious stuffed peppers that were piping hot when we ate. She also had made these delicious egg salad type stuffed tomatoes that were a yummy cool contrast to the cooked bell peppers. (The tomatoes were the most flavorful tomatoes I have ever eaten- Shania proudly told us that her 'sister' had grown them in her dacha.) We washed this repast down with yet another cup of her special herbal tea. (The food descriptions are so fancy- even though they were culturally fairly bland and oily- that I feel that they deserve the term 'repast'- don't you?)

Regretfully it was then time for us to leave her.

So she quickly found some old little glass jars and filled them with honey from a larger glass jar (I know honey is not cheap- so this was a generous gift.) Also, I had commented on how much I liked the semi spicy kind of salsa that she had brought out that afternoon to go with the stuffed peppers; so she packed up a jar of that for me as well.

Then Shania donned her trench coat and small silk scarf, and walked us back out to the bus stop where we picked up our bus for the 3.5 hr ride back home.

Not only did she do ALL this.... but she invited us back. REPEATEDLY.

And I thought I knew all there was to know about hostessing....

Hospitality... really!

I had an adventure on Wednesday :)

The great thing is that it started out with something ridiculous like me wanting to get acrylic nails again (since I'm not a practicing nurse anymore!! Wahoo!) ... and a student at the English center was going to take me to 'her' nail place.

Now- Zee is an amazing lady. I think she's in her late twenties, maybe early thirties. She's a very intelligent, busy chemical engineer- and she decided after a vacation to the Canary islands this year she needed to learn English ASAP so she would be able to communicate at least a little bit on her next vacation... so she returned and immediately signed up for English classes. That's the kind of dedication this girl has. But... unfortunately for us... her dedication does not translate to ability. :) And- since I have also failed in finding the fountain at which I can drink and automatically speak her language- we have... Well, we have a lot of FUN when we communicate! he he...

Anyway, back to my story about Wednesday.

I met Zee at a bus stop and she took me to a sketchy apartment building, and up one of the dirtiest stairwells I have seen here, into a tiny apartment, and into the even tinier kitchen of this miniscule apartment. And there... yes... there was a table set up in the corner. A nail salon if you will. UV lamp and everything! So- I got these fantastic nails - and at 4:10pm I congratulate myself on that accomplished vanity AND that I had also spent some time with Zee (which is what I was aiming for).

However, the real adventure started at 4:20pm when we left the nail lady's place. Zee asked me if I would go home with her to pick up her books and, "maybe drink some tea." I had to teach at 5pm, but figured she probably did not live far from the English center. So I said, "Sure! Let's go!" (Which, by the way, is the one thing I do know how to say in R.!) So- we get on the bus- and we go... :) We get to her house at about 4:40pm. At this point I'm thinking I'm just gonna look around her place, she's gonna get her books, and we'll go. I'll barely make it to the English center, but... I'll be only a few minutes late. That should be fine.

But no.

Zee lights up her gas stove... I think it's maybe she's just heating up water for tea. Hmm, okay. I take a deep breath. I'll only be like, 10 minutes late for my class. Culturally it's okay to be late here... so my student's will understand. "I'll be fine," I think to myself.

Oh.... it get's better though. Zee proceeds to heat up a soupy, spicy kind of noodle and chicken dish. Washes and slices fresh cucumber and tomato. Cuts up brown bread. Slices some fish pizza she had set aside. Makes this amazing green tea from loose leaf tea (and raspberry leaves that she picked and dried herself at her mother's country home). AND then serves me chocolates and dried apricots.

I was floored.

And desperately trying to be cool...

I don't like being late... but I've been working on it... (Well, since my college best friend was always late meeting me for coffee- I've had some training. But, it goes against my natural instincts to be late.) So this... this incredible display of hospitality was... trying.

Oh- I appreciated it. I truly did. All the details and generosity blew me away.

But the whole time I was thinking, "Don't show that you're concerned with being late. Appreciate the moment. Just... breathe... smile... breathe... You're okay. It's okay to be late. ... Even if you're the teacher. This is so great, but I'm late! It's gonna be okay. It's gonna be okay. (smile)"

He he...

So - even though I have a family who is willing to 'kill the fatted calf' when guests come over. (I mean, my grandmother has four sets of dishes... and my mother buys event themed appropriate napkins every time guests come over...) ... I still have a lot to learn in the hospitality department. I could NOT whip up a full three course meal for an unexpected guest (in 20 minutes)!!

Oh- and I was 30 minutes late for my lesson. And my students didn't mind. :D