Una semana más... (pt. 1)

Events from early July 2011 One of the most frustrating parts about the posts saga (see last entry) was that when it started, I knew that in a couple of weeks there would be a church group of about 25 youth who would be visiting us for a few days to help out with the project in Rivadavia. I was desperately scrambling to get materials together to be able to take advantage of the presence of extra hands to get the fence done more quickly. Furthermore, if I wasn't going to have those materials we would have to be a bit more creative about what small projects they could do—and feel accomplished about—given the short amount of time they would be on-site.

I would be lying, however, if I said that those preparations were my main concern about the group. Often I find that in my mental processing, philosophical problems and complications create more interference and stress than practical roadblocks. In this case, I was extremely—perhaps excessively—concerned that our visitors would be more interested in religious evangelism than in humanitarian work. Ever since my arrival in Argentina, and especially after my “ADRA” trip to Chile (have yet to write about that.. sorry), this concern has been on the forefront of my mind when considering ADRA's relationship with its founder and largest supporter, the Seventh-Day Adventist church, a partnership that is both delicate and complex (this is a topic about which I could write at GREAT length. Indeed, it has been the subject of many interesting, intense, and sometimes frustrating conversations here in Argentina. I'm going to stick to the local issues, so I apologize for not giving the full and proper context this issue deserves). In cases like this one, where the church wants to be directly involved with ADRA's work, big yellow “CAUTION” lights begin blinking in my head. Based on previous experiences (of which I also must write), church members and leadership in Argentina almost inevitably have a hard time understanding—or even realizing—that there is, and should be, a difference between the work of evangelism and the work of humanitarian development and relief agencies like ADRA.

ADRA Argentina's mission statement translates something like this: “To help those in poverty and affliction, creating positive changes for a better and more just life, by the use of responsible actions both internally and in conjunction with other institutions.”

The church's mission statement reads as follows: “To preach the eternal gospel in the context of the three angel's message of Revelation 14:6-12, bringing them to accept Jesus as their personal savior, uniting them to the church and preparing them for Jesus' soon coming.”

It is not difficult to see that these missions are very different. But let me be clear. Difference does not imply that one is better than the other, nor that they are completely incompatible. I am simply suggesting that the work done by each institution, if they are to follow their respective stated missions, will and must be distinct. In Rivadavia, the issue is not just a philosophical one. Real and significant dangers to ADRA's progress could arise were we to give even the slightest notion that our true goal was to evangelize to and convert the communities we work in:

1. Perceived lack of respect for the Wichí culture. In order to help any group of people, you must first understand and respect their customs and traditions, that is, their culture. Religion is fundamental to understanding the Wichí worldview. In the late 1800s the Wichí were in danger of being wiped out by violent conflict, and in their minds it is the Anglican missionaries who acted as intermediaries for them, and ultimately protected them from destruction. In this way, they were “saved” both literally and figuratively. As a result, the Wichí see themselves as profoundly Anglican—much in the same way Jews are Jewish—regardless of actual religious practice. Even though the music is often Pentecostal and the theology Evangelistic, they still identify as Anglican. One element that they all share, however, is the rejection of carved images as idols. Religiously, this puts them at odds with the majority of their neighbors, who are deeply Catholic, and also politically: Argentinians are typically anti-British, considering them to be foreign oppressors (especially in the context of the continuing Falklands/Malvinas debate), a sentiment not shared by the Wichí, who see them as a kind of savior.

Thus, evangelizing to the Wichí could be seen as being disrespectful to their strong cultural ties to Anglicanism, and would likely make them wary of, if not completely opposed to, working together with ADRA on any kind of project. Indeed, some of the community members I have spoken to label Jehovah's Witnesses and other Evangelical groups as demonic. At the very least, we would be creating an unnecessary confusion in a community where we already have enough complications in delivering a unified and understandable message.

2. Conflict with existing religious institutions. This is certainly the most obvious problem we face, particularly with the local Catholic church. The priest of the diocese of Rivadavia is a bit of a hothead, prone to abrasive political and social commentary. After learning of our presence in Rivadavia, he did some “online research” about us, and didn't like what he found. He was, and likely continues to be, convinced that we had ulterior motives, that we were not upfront about our real objective. Surely we must be evangelists, he thought, even if we specifically state that we have no interest in changing people's religion, rather we want to help them change their lives for the better. (Even if he believed us on that point he would have preferred that we leave. He insisted that helping the Wichí was futile and immoral, saying that it was better to let them die from hunger, because that way they would be truly motivated to rise up in arms—as in guns and knives—against the oppressive government.) He almost always refuses to speak with us, yet speaks at liberty about us publicly—even in mass—telling his parishioners to be on their guard, to not allow their teenage children to be drawn into our “sect”. (My personal favorite is that he has on “good authority” that I have been teaching Wichí children that the Virgin Mary is satanic. Nevermind that they already believe that because of their Anglican upbringing, or that he chooses to be willfully ignorant of my actual belief in the matter).

If we were to begin preaching the SDA message, we would not only be proving the priest right. We would also possibly lose the support of many devout Catholics in Rivadavia, many of whom are important friends and collaborators—hospital staff, government workers, the Justice of the Peace, and the director and teachers of the Wichí school. It is irresponsible, perhaps even impossible, to execute a project like ours without that support.

3. Misinterpretation of mission by partnering institutions. ADRA Argentina's work depends not only on the support of locals but that of provincial, national, and even international institutions. Some of those organizations, like Caritas and the SDA church, are religious, and others, like INTA and Civil Defense, are not. It is crucial that we be perceived as serious and professional by these partners, religious or otherwise. Thus, in order to fulfill our shared goals, a certain degree of public abstinence from particular religious leanings is necessary, even as each individual can and should hold dearly to his or her own beliefs. For example, if the government were to entrust us a large sum of money for our administrative costs because they know that we are a humanitarian organization that works to improve the lives of their constituents, we could not then turn around and use that money for religious evangelism, just as we could not use it to advance a certain political party or promote a private business. It is simply not our role, and it would be unethical to act otherwise.

...believe it or not, I could probably go on for much, much longer about this, but I will try to stop boring you...

As the week of the group's arrival approached, I became more and more afraid of these potentially disastrous possibilities. After all, the group's typical activities were door-to-door Bible studies and public evangelistic series, and they were led by a pastor who had never worked with ADRA before. Would they be able to understand the difference between their way of doing things and ADRA's, and why I was so emphatic about that distinction?

To make matters worse, Beatriz was not going to be here. Beatriz, with her amazing people skills and her experience working for the church before switching permanently to ADRA, has a knack for negotiating just these kinds of situations. Two of our other team members had left to go back to college, so I felt pretty alone and afraid. Fortunately, Beatriz was able to help me some, even at a great distance, by preparing me—and the youth group—as much as possible beforehand. She was also going to send Graciela, a woman about Beatriz's age and a veteran ADRA volunteer who could help me traverse the torrid waters of leadership in a region where I would be “in charge” of people twice my age. Even though Beatriz was confident in my abilities to manage the group, I was far less sure...

... to be continued in part 2