We are spending a couple of days in Kigali, Rwanda’s booming Capitol. To be here is to be overwhelmed with sensations and stimuli, from people in every direction, to the smell of the air (something’s burning) to frenetic traffic. I don’t know where to look, there is so much happening.

Before 1962 Kigali was just a small dusty town, but with independence came the selection of a new capitol–one that was in the center of the country, and one that wasn’t from where the Tutsi kings had ruled for hundreds of years. Lately there has been tremendous foreign investment in this city, and the rapid growth of tall buildings and spreading development has led some to call this the Singapore of Africa.

Kigali is also home to the Anglican Province of Rwanda and it’s new Archbishop, the Most Rev. Onesephore Rwaje. He has been in office just a couple of months, succeeding Archbishop Kolini. The new archbishop and I shared tea in his office this morning, and talked about the challenges and blessings of this work. Formerly the bishop of Byumba Diocese (in the north of the country) he will now oversee the province, as well as a newly created smaller diocese in part of Kigali. He asked us to pray for pastors and personnel in the 5 parishes that make us the new diocese, in an area near the airport.

I also met today with Bishop Louis Muvunyi, newly installed as head of the Kigali diocese, with leadership responsibilities touching on tens of thousands of Anglican Christians in this city. When I visited last year (then) Pastor Louis served as my driver for the two hour trip to Musanze. Two days later he was elected Bishop. Pastors are lining up to drive me around town. Seriously, he is a sensitive and humble leader with a servant’s heart who will be a powerful leader for the diocese, I’m sure.

The event that brought me back to Africa was the consecration of a new bishop for the Shyira Diocese, located in Musanze, a mountainous region northwest of the capitol city. This is the area where John and Harriet Rucyahana came in the ‘90s to preach the gospel, strengthen the people in the years following the genocide, and do the work of ministry. In addition, Sonrise School was opened and developed, a new cathedral built and many connections made with Christians in other parts of the world. There are about 150,000 Anglicans in this area, and any new bishop here has very big shoes to fill.

In selecting Dr. Laurent Mbanda the leaders of the Anglican Church in Rwanda chose a seasoned global leader (a Compassion Intl Vice President with a PhD from Trinity in Deerfield), experience in the church in Africa and the United States, and a size 15 shoe. He knows just how much responsibility this is, and how full the Rucyahana legacy. But he brings a sense of humility in light of this task and hopefulness in God’s provision and call at this time of his life. We knew the Mbanda’s in the US and it was important, given Redeemer’s connection to this diocese and my personal friendship that I was on hand March 28th for the service.

It was a glorious worship service of almost 6 hours duration, including various choirs, readers, dancers, and even the President of Rwanda as a guest speaker, witnessed by a crowd of several thousand. Near the end the heavens opened and poured—really rained like I haven’t seen since I was a child (memory is a funny thing). I was particularly pleased when the rain shorted out the keyboard with the built-in rhythm section and the choirs reverted to indigenous music with real drum accompaniment. After the service was a reception, to which even the cows were invited!

I’m not sure we have an equivalent here in the US—a service in the church inaugurating leadership where the President would take an active part. Bishops are not just spiritual leaders, but those to whom the whole community looks for leadership, guidance and care. It still works that way in Rwanda.

Bishop Mbanda will serve alongside +John Rucyahana until November, then assume full leadership upon Bishop John’s retirement.

Read something else I wrote on bishops.

Sonrise School is a remarkable place, not just because it is a school and one that cares for its students in a corporate way, but because of the people that make up that community. They are committed to Sonrise’s redemptive mission and are sacrificing in powerful ways. As you meet the people of Sonrise you get a sense for how special this place is, and the kind of leadership that called it into being.

On this return visit I was able to spend a little time with Celestine, Sonrise’s Assistant Chaplain. He leads spiritual education and formation for the students, as well as Bible studies and other student life gatherings. He works most days (that is, about seven days a week) from 7am until late at night. Recently thieves broke into the Sonrise High School Chapel and made off with the drums, keyboard and sound system, as well as Celestine’s bicycle, his only means of transport. So each Sunday morning he moves the musical instruments from the Primary School chapel (St. Michael’s) to the High School next door—not an easy feat as they as separated by a large field and creek. Yet he received me with warmth and a servant’s heart, wanting to carry around my briefcase for me during my visit. There are many people here like Celestine, and their sacrifice makes the place what it is.

I am in Rwanda only a few days, really, so the time has been very full. I spent a day in Kigali, connecting with those coming in from out of town at the Guest House there. One of those is Fr. Gerry Schnackenberg, the priest from Colorado under whose ministry I was ordained and served as Associate Pastor. Gerry is a truly contagious Christian who shares his life and love for the Lord very openly to others. It has been good to be with him and be reminded of his important mentoring in my own pastoral journey. None of us grows alone, and we pick up things from others as we know them and love them. This is why community is vital, because without it we actually don’t grow, but remain our selves.

For two days now I have been in Ruhengeri, staying at the Guest House next to the Cathedral of St. John the Baptist, a glorious building with its own organic ‘feel’, that seems to come right out of the place on which it stands. Some buildings seem forced, this one emerges.

Of course, I had to visit Sonrise School, and it was wonderful to be recognized, to be called by name, and to be known there. I was invited to speak to the teachers and the students separately, as I encouraged them in their work and shared something from Luke 8–Jesus’ parable of the Sower, or perhaps it should be called the Parable of the Soils.

Sonrise School has recently started a school garden, which coincides with our own plans to begin a garden at Church of the Redeemer…so it was good to be able to bring these two gardens, thousands of miles apart, together in one conversation. And to consider how our lives reflect the work of the gardener and the soil that is found and that must be worked and tilled.

As I preached to the Sonrise students in the chapel the photo from Church of the Redeemer was on the wall behind me. What an experience to see all of us in that place, looking down upon the children. I was aware of the prayers of our church for my visit and for the school, even as I stood between the students and the photo of Redeemer, lives facing each other. It was a powerful metaphor and true.

Tomorrow is the consecration. It is expected to be a magnificent affair (probably 5 hours long) with many in attendance. Hopefully I’ll have a chance to write more on that before I head back home Monday. Peace to you.

It’s been a number of months and I find myself preparing for another trip across the waters, back to friends in a country far away. There have been some emails, and a couple of phone calls, but mostly it is the distance and time itself that has heightened the need to return–the desire to renew face to face relationships that have, in many ways, just begun. In a world of constant and immediate communication, this tie to Rwanda reminds me most of what it was like as I grew up in countries far from home–of waiting for many months to see extended family—listening to recorded tapes of friends and neighbors, cousins close and distant. Wondering if I would remember the faces of loved ones left on another shore, or the fading taste of favourite foods, unable to be enjoyed, like sacraments long neglected.  Anticipation was the greater part of the joy, it seemed, when we finally headed ‘home’. I have that same feeling again.  Nervousness mingled with desire; longing and hesitancy held together.  No web-based Face-book friends here—I am my own face-book, heading out on a plane Sunday night to be opened in person for those caring and brave enough to read its pages, as I read theirs.

Why now?  I am returning sooner than I had planned but momentous changes are afoot in Rwanda’s Anglican church as a number of bishops, including  Archbishop Kolini, retire in the next few months.  One of the new leaders–the man selected to shepherd the diocese where Redeemer is closely connected– is someone I knew well in Colorado Springs.  Laurent Mbanda and his family served in Colorado with Compassion International.  Susan worked for him, his family stayed in our house once when we went on vacation; we drank coffee together and spoke of the world beyond the mountains.  Before that he had lived in Deerfield, studying for his PhD at Trinity.  Now he is being consecrated bishop for the Shyira Diocese and will assume leadership when +John Rucyahana retires in November.  This journey brings together a number of apparently disparate paths: personal, familial, church and school-related.  But life is more coherent than we think, or at least as it appears in the moment. So for that reason, and others I can’t fully articulate, I will be in the Cathedral of St. John the Baptist in Musanze, Rwanda on March 28th for the service of consecration, in a church of which I am part yet so far away, with people who are brothers and sisters.  This journey is really an embodied prayer that God will close the distance and bring the paths together.

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.   

Jay Greener and Jason Miller have graciously allowed me space on their blog to keep in touch with the people at Church of the Redeemer.  I’ll use this forum to post my experiences in Rwanda, especially those having to do with the Church here. 

Kigali.  First, a bit about the city:  I think the most remarkable thing about my new home is how clean it is.  Many say it is the cleanest city in Africa.  I was also surprised by the amount of ongoing development.  There are new buildings (including luxury houses) and sidewalks being built all over the place.   It is also very green, meaning “very vegetated,” not “very environmentally friendly.”  Most houses have a well-maintained garden, and there are quite a few trees around the city. 

Even as I’ve been hearing about the changing of the seasons in the US, there is a change of seasons underway here in Rwanda—from the dry season to the rainy season.  Though it was hot and humid when I arrived, during the past week, we’ve experienced a moderate downpour nearly every day, making the air cool and noticeably drier.  This is a welcome relief to those who have been here longer than I and especially to those people here who rely on agriculture for their livings (approximately 90% of Rwanda’s population) as the rains have been rather late this year.  The already green city is becoming seems now, I’m told that it becomes positively lush during the rainy season.

On the downside, Kigali is very spread out, making getting around for a pedestrian like me rather difficult.  The bare-bones public transportation system consists of “mutatus”—minivans that run fixed routes, in which Rwandans cozily sit four across.  (Many Rwandans have stared somewhat incredulously at the large, bearded mzungu as he attempts to fold himself into a space meant for people half his size.)  The main alternative is the small-engine motorcycle taxi.  The passenger gets to sit on the back.  The first time I did this, I was concerned about being thrown off the back if the driver accelerated quickly.  Then I realized that the engines haven’t got nearly enough power to cause this to happen.  It’s really not as dangerous as it sounds—traffic in Kigali is pretty reasonable, especially compared to other African cities.

Yesterday, I went to Kigali Genocide Memorial in Gisozi.  The museum is remarkably well done, incorporating both general facts and personal testimony, and appropriately sobering.  Outside the museum itself are mass graves where, according my guide book, over a quarter million victims are buried.  I hesitate to say more about what I saw, both for the benefit of those who may someday come to see this for themselves and because I might oversimplify the experience in an attempt to explain it to the wide range of people receiving this email.  But I am happy to discuss it further with you on an individual basis.

Umuganda, a part of Rwandan culture I didn’t know about, occurs on the morning of the fourth Saturday of every month in Rwanda.  On this morning, Rwandans are required by law to participate in community service in their neighborhood under the supervision of a local community leader.  They clean streets, tidy public spaces, tend to public greenery, etc.  This is an effort by the government to promote harmony, cooperation, community pride and mutual understanding among Rwandans in the wake of the genocide.  The cynical voice in my head also notes that it’s a convenient way for the government to get free labor.  Perhaps I am being too harsh, imposing personal values from my Chicago home, where government officials pay vast sums to their friends to have this type of work done. 

Work.  I’ve got my very own desk at work in a small house that serves as the IJM Rwanda office.  In addition to me, there are 5 other expats, with one more legal fellow to come in October, and 14 Rwandans in the office, which includes 4 Rwandan lawyers.  Our lawyers have great advocacy and informal dispute resolution skills, and given the somewhat informal manner in which justice is administered here, those are the most important skills for a lawyer to have.  However, they lack some other skills in which western lawyers typically excel, such as interviewing, research and writing.  And they don’t have much more than a passing familiarity with the actual text of the law.  So part of my role is going to be lawyer training and education in order to give our lawyers an additional edge when representing our clients. 

It’s an exciting time to be working on land rights issues in Rwanda because the government has recently begun an ambitious program to identify, demarcate and register all parcels of land in Rwanda.  IJM has been assisting the government in this process, and part of my role will be to work on this program and to help IJM evaluate the extent to which they want to be involved in the government’s next steps, understanding that while this sort of work might advance justice, it is a departure from IJM’s traditional focus on casework.  In addition, I’ll be working to generate materials aimed at educating local officials and citizens about the land registration process, ways to transfer land and land rights generally.  And if any of this sounds more lofty or glorious than it actually is, you should know that I’ll also be spending some time helping the office comply with its rather enormous burden of generating periodic reports for the government and IJM headquarters.

Church.  Last Sunday, I went to church at St. Stephen’s Cathedral here in Kigali, which is Archbishop Kolini’s see and better known by its French name, St. Etienne.  I was able to greet two of the pastors on behalf of Church of the Redeemer.  I was not able to speak to them at length, as our service had run long (2½ hours) and they needed to begin the second service.

While church does run a bit longer in Africa that we might be accustomed to, there were reasons for the length of this particular service.  First, we celebrated the Eucharist, which is a once-a-month event here.  Secondly, we spent time praying for and sending off one of the local leaders.  Manasseh is a young man who has been active in the youth ministry, leading worship and starting a choir in the cathedral and left this week for the UK, where he will study for full-time (probably non-ordained) ministry.  What struck me most was how much his sending resembled what we do in our own congregation. 

I was also reminded of home when it was announced that later that afternoon there would be a screening of the film, As We Forgive.  Many of you saw this film when Church of the Redeemer hosted a screening in Wilmette.  In the intervening year, this film has been shown to over 20,000 Rwandans across the country, and the filmmakers have produced a 20-minute epilogue that primarily addresses the reconciliation that John and Chantal experienced that had not yet occurred when the original film was finalized.  Unfortunately, the screening was poorly attended since most people were at Manasseh’s farewell party, but I did learn that the filmmakers are in the process of trying to obtain another grant in order to continue their work of showing the film to Rwandans and leading post-film reconciliation discussions.

Rwandans.  It would be grossly unfair for me to offer any sort of characterization of the Rwandan people; conclusions based on only a week’s observations could only be the worst sort of generalizations.  But I think it would be fair to repeat a generalization that I’ve heard from several Rwandans—Rwandans are reserved people, showing little emotion and making the stereotypical Brit seem to have a very soft and floppy upper lip by comparison. 

It wasn’t long before I saw an example of this.  After my trip to the genocide memorial, an IJM driver picked me up to give me a ride back to the office.  One of my Rwandan colleagues was also in the car and asked me what I thought of the memorial.   After I had offered a brief response, she looked at me and said, matter-of-factly, “Sixteen of my family are in there,” referring to the mass graves adjacent to the memorial.  I sat in stunned silence, finding it much more difficult to wrap my head around one person’s grief than the entire genocide display.  But after a minute of this silence, my colleague was cracking jokes, and we were all smiling and laughing.

Without a doubt, some extraordinary healing and reconciliation has occurred in this country.  However, my limited sense (based on only a week of living here) is that a great deal of pain still lingers beneath the surface, somewhat obscured by smiles, Umuganda, laughter and lush greenery.  It is this subsurface reality that I hope to get to know a little better while I’m here.

I’ll let you know what I learn.