On the one hand, it’s hard to believe that it has already been a month since I landed in Kigali.  On the other hand, I feel like I’ve been here much longer than that.  I’ve truly started to feel at home, and for that I’m thankful.

Part of that feeling has come from entering into the community of Christ at St. Etienne, the Anglican cathedral here in Kigali.  In addition to worshipping with them on Sundays at their English-language service (which is attended by a large number of expatriates), last night I joined a weekly men’s fellowship that is attended mostly by Rwandans.  In addition to being a time for me to meet Rwandans, it was a wonderful time of prayer, sharing from the word and singing hymns. 

One of the great privileges of being part of a community is marking the rhythms of life together.  This past Sunday, we took time in the service to note two important events in the life of the community.  First, Sam Mgisha (one of the pastors at the cathedral) and his wife Jackie together presented their newborn daughter to the congregation and received the blessing of the church on their daughter’s life.  We rejoiced with them at the blessing of new life.

We also celebrated the blessing of life eternal while mourning the passing of a beautiful 8-year-old girl who had been killed in a car accident.  The parents were not in church with us Sunday, but last night the men’s fellowship met at the family’s house.  The father was detained in a meeting and was not able not be there, but the mother was a gracious hostess, and many members of her family were there as well. 

I wrote before that I had heard about the reserved nature of most Rwandans when it comes to expressions of emotion.  But this woman’s composure was, frankly, stunning.  She was a rock.  And it’s not like her daughter’s death was the elephant in the room that no one talked about.  People offered their condolences, we prayed for her family’s comfort, and Pastor Sam shared his thoughts from the passage in John 14 where Jesus speaks about going to prepare a place for all of us.  The mother herself requested that we sing “It Is Well With My Soul.”  At the end of our two hours we prepared to leave, but the mother said, “No.  Please stay.  It has been your prayers and the company of friends that has helped us through this time.” 

For the next 30 minutes, she spoke about her experiences from the past 10 days.  She told us about learning of her daughter’s death.  She told us about the pain of leaving her daughter in the graveyard.  She told us about combing her daughter’s hair in the mortuary at King Faysal Hospital.  And you’ll simply have to take my word that she didn’t shed a single tear.

An experience like this, whether in Rwanda or any other part of the world, can produce varied reactions in an observer from outside the culture.  The most reprehensible reaction is one that I’ve heard too often, even from fellow Christians: that “they” don’t value human life the way “we” do.  This is, of course, insidious nonsense.  One glance at the faces around the room was enough to convince anyone that everyone present knew and understood her anguish.  It is a cliché to say the people express grief in different ways, but it is no less true for being a cliché.  Some people weep.  Others share their grief verbally—openly and in great detail—but without tears. 

For myself, I hope I learned something—something about Rwandan culture and something about my own.  I do not exaggerate when I say that I have never seen a community turn out in such support for a grieving member.  Nor do I exaggerate when I say that I have never seen anyone so ready and willing to lean on that support.  And I do not exaggerate when I say that I have never witnessed anyone take comfort and strength from the hope of the resurrection the way this woman did. 

But more than a cultural tidbit, I think I’ve learned something profound—something I can’t quite articulate yet—about grieving in a community of faith, about sorrow, about joy and about hope.  We talk a lot about what we can learn from our partnership with the Rwandan church.  I hope that’s something we take seriously because I genuinely believe there is much to learn.