The service was divided up into several sections framed by Bible verses and put in between songs and other parts of the service.
These are the notes from those little sermonettes:
Isaiah 12:4: And in that day you will say: “Praise the Lord, call upon His name; Declare His deeds among the peoples, Make mention that His name is exalted…”
There are few things more important in
Ethiopia than greetings.
You greet often, you greet every one, you greet excessively.
Often you ask a series of questions without really waiting for a response: “Danah-walsh?
Salam-no? Endate-nish?” “How have you spent the day?
Is everything peace? How are you?”
But when you finally get to the response, the answer to most greetings is the same, “Dana-ng exhabhier yimeslken,” “I’m fine, thanks be to God.”
Often, once they have exhausted each other with greetings, both people will say simple “Exhabhier yimesklen,” “thanks be to God,” an affirmation of their gratitude for both their and their companions continued life and presence.
Ethiopia was declared a Christian nation the fourth century, and right now over 60% of the population is Christian (44% Ethiopian Orthodox, and 19% other denominations).
Christianity is deeply engrained in the culture.
Orthodox people bow to their churches as they pass by and have high respect for their priests.
Protestants churches are extremely active and their members spend many of their evenings at one church event or another.
Whether they were Christian or Muslim, people in
Ethiopia had faith in a powerful and unquestioning way. Being in a place of such deep and engrained faith was refreshing for me.
To talk about God and not wonder if I was offending any non-believers or implying any political agenda was a rare and surprising gift, and I thank God that I was able to join with Ethiopians as they openly and easily “Praised the Lord, called upon His name; Declared His deeds among the peoples and made mention that his name is exalted.”
Matthew 19:15-17: The little children were brought to Him that He might put His hands on them and pray, but the disciples rebuked them. But Jesus said, “Let the little children come to Me, and do not forbid them; for of such is the kingdom of heaven.” And he laid His hands on them and departed from there.
It was something I looked forward to everyday day.
As I would walk down the cobble street past minibuses and little cafes and finally near the school gate, I could see them approaching too.
Finally, my students would look up from where they were walking and their faces would just light up. “Nahomi!” one would scream, and they all would come running to give me a hug and hold my hand as we walked into the school.
One student who always greeted my with a huge hug and a shy smile is this little boy.
His name is Johannas, he’s about 6 years old, and he attends one of the school’s Lower Kindergarten classes.
He is such a sweet boy, and so obviously needing attention.
He would come over and hug me, and then stand next to me, start leaning on me, and eventually end up sitting on my lap.
Johannas was born near the school in one of the city’s poorest areas.
His mother was a prostitute and his father is not known.
When he was very young, his mother brought him to the house of an elderly local woman, who made her money by providing child care for the children of local prostitutes.
For a time Johannas’ mother visited the house regularly, providing money and milk for her child.
Eventually, however, she stopped coming to the house and disappeared from the area, leaving Johannas in the neighborhood woman’s home.
The woman allowed Johannas to live with her, but as she has aged she was no longer able to care for other children, and thus lost her only source of income.
Now she, her daughter, and Johannas have to survive on the small income earned by her daughter.
Thankfully Johannas has the school to come to.
As the only free kindergarten and nursery school in the city, it provides not only education, but a safe place for the children to come during the day time.
Through the school Johannas has a place to learn and play, and through the excitement, love, and joy that he and the other 193 students showed me, I got to experience a multitude of ways in which children reflect the kingdom of heaven.
John 12:3-8: Summary: Mary anoints Jesus’ feet with oil and dries it with her hair, Judas, motivated by self-interest, asks why the money for the oil wasn’t given to the poor instead, and Jesus responds “Let her alone; she has kept this for the day of My burial. For the poor you have with you always, but Me you do not have always.”
So I was sitting their on the couch, feeling content, if slightly awkward, and trying as hard as I could to pick up little bits of the Amharic conversation and respond in my halting and limited way. Finally I heard some Amharic that I actually understood. The hostess was offering me food. “Yes!” I thought, “I know these words.” “Aye, minum alfelligum, ammasayganallo, bella-hu” “No, I don’t want anything, thank you. I ate.” I was feeling pretty satisfied with myself until I saw the hostess leave the room and come back a while later with a plate of injera (their staple food, which is a type of flatbread) and a bowl of wat (kind of like sauce or stew) to top it with. I trotted out my Amharic again. I really wasn’t hungry. I had just eaten lunch. She set the food down in front of me. “Bee” she commanded, “Eat.” Ok, I thought, I won’t be rude. So, I ate. Before I had even finished my plate it was full again, despite my protests. Now this was getting ridiculous. I didn’t want the food, and I knew that she didn’t really have it to give. I was eating beyond what I could really handle, and she was giving beyond what her family could really afford. She was force feeding me food they needed much more than I did. What kind of messed up and impractical culture was this? What I realize now is that I was thinking like Judas was in the Scripture I read before. I had my mind on the practical side and I totally missed the important part. Her giving me food, even giving up food so I could have more, was her way of showing me hospitality and love. She was praising God by sacrificing for those around her. Whether or not that sacrifice was actually practical for my stomach was not important. As my time in Ethiopia went on I got better at figuring out ways to avoid food I didn’t want or couldn’t eat, but more importantly I got better at understanding the beautiful blessing of Ethiopian giving.
Psalm 66:1-2: Make a joyful shout to God, all the earth! Sing out the honor of His name; Make His praise glorious.
Services at the church I attended are two hours long…on a short day.
Although it was rare in my church there, I had my first experience seeing casting out of demons and speaking in tongues in
Ethiopia.
The church was almost always packed.
I had a wonderful translator for the sermon itself, but that still left over an hour of singing and prayer time in which I understood an average of about 5 words per week.
So, basically any Sunday I was in Nazret, I spent over two hours sitting on a hard wooden bench with about double the occupants it should have had, listening to things I didn’t understand, as the church slowly heated from the baking sun and the body heat of about 1,500 attendees.
And it was great.
The reason is simple; joy is contagious.
Ethiopians love God and they love worship.
As Nathanael said when he came to visit, “the freedom in this church is so cool.”
People in my church were free during the church services to express themselves with passion, pray with heart-felt fervor, and literally jump with joy as they sang about the glories of our God.
Their worship style will never be my style of worship, but what a wonderful blessing it was to join with the congregation as they made their “joyful shout to God” and sang “out the honor of His name.”
Zechariah 2:10-11: “Sing and rejoice, O daughter of Zion! For behold, I am coming and I will dwell in your midst,” says the Lord. “Many nations shall be joined to the Lord in that day, and they shall become My people. And I will dwell in your midst. Then you will know that the Lord of hosts has sent me to you.”
Have you ever heard that expression, “we’re all the same on the inside?” I’ve heard it many times, I’d say I pretty much believed it. We look different on the outside, black and white, skinny and fat, tall and short, but the inside is what matters, so the saying goes, and inside we’re the same. Well, I know longer believe that to be true. I still think it is the inside that matters, but I now believe that is actually the place people are the most different. I believe that the ways in humans relate to the things by which we define ourselves—faith, gender, family, work—vary more between cultures than skin colors and waist-sizes. But, what I discovered, the beautiful revelation of my year in Ethiopia, is that differences don’t mean division. When the passage from Zachariah talks about the unity in Christ, it says that many nations will be joined to God and become God’s people. It never says that they’ll all become the same. We are all made in God’s image, and we are all so different, inside and out. So, the gift I was blessed with this year was learning about the largeness of God, the depth, the width of God, by getting to know some of His people. And I discovered that through openly, honestly, and respectfully seeking to engage with people different from me, I found a familiarity that I believe could only have come from our shared role as God’s children. My co-workers became a community. My students became my children. My host family became part of my family. Ethiopia became my second home. And I gained a new appreciation for the magnitude of our Lord. There are no words to thank you for a gift like that.
