“I hated the statues, the crucifix, all the emphasis on the human body. I was trying to escape from the human body and all it needed. I thought I could believe in some kind of a God that bore no relation to ourselves, something vague, amorphous, cosmic…” (Sarah Miles in Graham Greene’s novel The End of the Affair, Book III, Chapter 5).
Dear Friends and Family,
Each time I climb the long staircase out of the valley in which our day center is located, about a third of the way to the top and when my breath is just starting to get heavy, I am met with the same bright green, spray-painted message: Valea Groazei. The Valley of Horror. After reading this for the first time, I began thinking about the reasons why someone might have given such a name to this valley neighborhood in Galati. Could it be because of the many abandoned buildings and unpaved roads? Could it be because many of the families here are of Roma ethnicity in a world in which racism abounds? Or maybe it is because of the menacing street dogs that at times seem to outnumber the valley’s inhabitants.
The staircase’s spray-painted message
It is true that the valley neighborhood is known in Galati as one of the poorest areas of the city, but I couldn’t go so far as to call it the Valley of Horror. This is the valley where I have participated in lively soccer games and where I see children playing contentedly every day. My milk, eggs and other grocery items usually come from a small store just around the corner. And this is the valley where I am often stopped on my walks to the Danube River by cries of “Hey, John! How are you doing?” This is the valley where many of my friends live.
As I reflect, on the other hand, on the circumstances that many of our children face upon their daily arrival home after school, I begin to understand why someone might say this valley is full of horror. Stories of abuse, alcoholism, abandonment, illiteracy, hunger and hopelessness threaten to overwhelm me, and I often wonder, why are we here? What are we trying to do?
As we anticipate our move to Moldova in January, I also often wonder how to approach similar situations of seeming hopelessness. In Moldova alone, there are over 10,000 children who live in state-run boarding schools and institutions, many of them having been orphaned or abandoned by their parents. And when they must leave this living arrangement after the completion of 9th grade, many become victims of sex and labor trafficking, crime, drug abuse and poverty. What do we do in the face of such horror? Is God present in these places?
I take comfort in the realization that in His incarnation, Jesus entered into the fullness of human suffering and vulnerability and is, mysteriously, still present today among those who suffer (see Matthew 25). As we struggle to reconcile and understand the darkness that we often encounter, I believe that as we continue to enter in, we will meet Jesus in these places. The crucified Jesus, familiar with sorrow and suffering, continues to bleed and cry out for the wounds of humanity, inviting us to do the same. Nicholas Wolterstorff writes in his book Lament for a Son, “The Stoics of antiquity said: Be calm. Disengage yourself. Neither laugh nor weep. Jesus says: Be open to the wounds of the world. Mourn humanity’s mourning, weep over humanity’s weeping, be wounded by humanity’s wounds, be in agony over humanity’s agony. But do so in the good cheer that a day of peace is coming” (p. 86).
And so as we choose to be present in dark places, we also choose to be people who believe in the story of new creation, that Jesus is resurrected and that He is making all things new. He is restoring the world. And so, in the midst of the most abhorrent circumstances and impossible stories, we choose to be present as people of hope. We dare to believe in the existence of a good God even when many of our friends have very legitimate reasons to believe just the opposite. We choose to believe that love is alive, even in the darkest and most ostracized corners of the empire, and, yes, even in Valea Groazei.
With hope,
John Koon
On another note…
Several of you asked specifically about our financial needs for Moldova while I was in the States this past summer. Although I do not have specific numbers at this point, I do have a general sense of what some of our needs will be and am confident that upon the move to Moldova, these things will become clearer. Our two biggest initial needs will be to pay our first Moldovan staff member’s salary as well as to cover rent and other expenses for an office/meeting space. For 2010, I anticipate that our monthly field need will not exceed $1000. If you desire to partner with us financially, you can either send a donation to my personal support account or make a direct donation to the Moldova field account.
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If you would like to receive occasional email updates from me, let me know: john.koon@wordmadeflesh.org
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PRAYER REQUESTS
1) Since school started just over a month ago, we have welcomed eight new children into our day center program. Please pray for them as they adjust to our community, asking God to show them that they are deeply loved and to give them minds and hearts that are ready to learn.
2) Pray for a trip I’ll be taking to Moldova in mid-November. Ask specifically that details regarding living permits, host families and an office/meeting space would be resolved as we draw closer and closer to the move in January.
3) Continue to pray for our team of six that will begin serving with WMF in Moldova in January. Ask that God would give us much grace as we prepare for the move and that we would grow in unity and mutual understanding as a team.