This is one of the few Saturday night-Sunday morning periods that I'm spending at home during the sabbatical, and how strange this time has been for me! Last night, numerous times, automatically, I felt the weekly Saturday night anxiety: of having to be "on" the next morning. Each time I realized: "Oh, but wait. No. Relax." It's like the anxiety is coded into my genes, after three decades of high-demand Sunday mornings!

This morning has been strange for me in a deeply positive way. I woke up early, with energy. (I'm over my jet lag and back on eastern daylight savings time.) I sat down with my mug of coffee and with the daily lectionary with the sense that this sabbath day time is holy time. I can actually consider today to be the sabbath, since I am on sabbatical from those high-demand Sunday mornings. And so, the time since 5:00 AM has been rich: praying and reading (this morning I've read the Introducation and Chapter One of Roberta Bondi's Memories of God -- which has struck me as nothing less than the greatest writing in the history of Western civilization (!) because I have had the time to be contemplative and open), in the joyful anticipation of worship a little later (this morning at St. Martin's Episcopal Church).

I'm having a hard time feeling any pep today. Gee, I wonder why? I arrived with the others in our group of travelers late yesterday afternoon at Dulles after traveling for 25 hours (counting time spent in the Kilimanjaro and Amsterdam airports), through who knows how many time zones.

I had planned to write a blog entry Monday night from the Internet cafe when we arrived back in the city of Moshi to spend the last night before flying home. (We had spent the first few nights of the visit in Moshi, and had then been in the small town of Karatu for about a week. We came back to Moshi because it is very close to the Kilimanjaro airport.) But here's what happened. I waited for 15 minutes until one of the three computers opened up, and then started the five-minute snail's pace process of getting on line, and I had finally gotten into my Yahoo mail account and was just about to click on an e-mail Patty had sent -- when the power went out. Just for two seconds. Just enough to shut down the computers. Then the lights came back on. Then I waited for 10 minutes while the guy at the Internet cafe tried to get the computers back on line. But he couldn't. So I left.

I experienced this kind of thing happening all the time with the electricity. The basic infrastructure is so unreliable that it's one of the big obstacles that will have to be overcome if Africa is to be competitive in the global economy.

So, anyway, here's the blog I would have posted this past Monday night. (I always wrote them out first, because I had to pay for the minutes I used on the Internet. I could have sent it during the five-hour layover we had in Amsterdam, but the charge there was six Euros for a half-hour of time!)

We have been in the town of Karatu for the last week, and have returned to the city of Moshi, near Mount Kilimanjaro. It's 9:00 PM. Tomorrow night we will get on a plane to begin the journey home. I will be so happy to get back home to Patty. But I have seen and experienced so much.

I have spoken with pastors who have four or five congregations in their parish, each location separated by up to 15 kilometers; but who have no motorized transportation, and who must walk from congregation to congregation.

I have worshiped with people who walk several kilometers each Sunday to get to church

I have missed the summer solstice this year, but have experienced my second winter solstice, this past week in TZ!

I have discovered that ear plugs are a great aid to sleep, with a roomate who snores.

I have seen an entire student body of a primay school thrilled to have been given a single soccer ball.

I have seen a blue heron eat a snake.

I have been within 30 feet of an elephant.

I have seen a monkey dash through an open window of one of our safari vehicles, steal a cookie, and flash back out and up a tree to eat the cookie before the running, yelling driver could get to him.

I have sat in on a choir practice at the Karatu Lutheran Parish.

I have visited a bicycle shop in the small town of Karatu.

I have been put on a pedestal everywhere I have been, because I am a "mchugali," a pastor.

I have been offered a job, teaching at the Mwicki Bible College, by the principal, when he met me, on the spot. (I declined the offer.)

I have been asked by numerous excited Tanzanians if I think Barack Obama could actually be elected president. (If that happens, I'll tell you, there will be dancing in the streets of Africa.)

I have baptized four infants and one adult. (Two of us mchugalis were baptizing people at the service this past Sunday at the Lositee Congregation in a Masai village.)

There's a whole lot more to share! We'll get together for a congregational dinner in the fall. I'll even show color pichures!

I'll even have a picture album and a DVD to show, of my visit to the Mongai Parish. The Mongai pastor, Pastor Minja, brought them to me at the "hotel" in Moshi, just before we left for the airport. I'm glad he caught me. Here's what he had to do, to get to the "big city": He walked seven kilometers down the mountain from his parish to the main (dirt) road to catch a bus (actually a "dala dala": one of the privately owned mini-vans that serve as buses, with up to 20 people crammed inside, each paying 500 TZ shillings for the ride -- 50 cents). He rode that into Moshi. Then he saved a few minutes by taking a taxi to the hotel, which is a few kilometers out. Of course, he had to do the same thing, in reverse, to get back home. So -- that is how he spent his day.

Wow.

I guess I'll stop complaining about the longer trip to our hospital, in its new location.

It is 6:15 PM on Sunday, June 15 in Tanzania. I am very conscious that the people of St. Stephen are worshiping right now in Williamsburg, and I am there with you in spirit! I want to tell you of the big day I have experienced today at the Mongai Parish.

Mongai is WAY out in the bush. From the town of Moshi (where we're staying right now), we drove for about an hour towards and up into Mount Kilimanjaro until the pavement ended. Then we bounced along the unpaved road for a number of kilometers, until we came to the left turn that would take us to Mongai. (Remember this road, Gene and Martha and Susan?!) That left turn took us up an EXTREMELY steep dirt road, heavily rutted, climbing another 2,000 feet or so. (Mongai is between 7,000 and 8,000 feet in elevation.) My favorite moment came when the Range Rovers and safari vehicles we were in came to a stop on a particularly steep incline: the two drive wheels on each vehicle could not propel us any farther forward. Pastor Jim Utt (of Grace Lutheran, in Winchester, VA) jumped out and went to each front axle to throw the four-wheel drive switches! Then, with the drivers flooring their accelerators, and all four wheels spinning, the vehicles slowly made their way up the slope. (Actually, it was exciting seeing a Range Rover used for the purpose for which it was built. At home I see them being driven by mothers dropping off their children for pre-school.)

Finally we arrived at the parish compound. The parish's brass band began to play! Two hundred people welcomed us. As we climbed out of the vehicles, kindergarten students came forward to hand us flowers. (The parish videographer and photographer recorded the whole day!)

I would have been happiest to work my way through the crowd, saying all the Swahili I know -- which is "greetings" and "thank you." But first, all 15 of us in the travelling party had to crowd into Pastor Minja's office, where we all had to sign the parish's guest book. (Ceremony is very important in TZ.) Then, Pastor Minja took my hand (which is something men commonly do in TZ), and we led the delegation on an inspection tour of all that st. Stephen has made possible: the grain mill, and the sunflower seed press, and the welding machine, and the building housing them. A parish member turned on the grain mill (which he had loaded previously with maize) to demonstrate how it works. It's not the season for harvesting sunflower seeds, but they showed me where the seeds go in, and where the oil comes out. The last top on the tour was the climax: the kindergarten we have made possible! As Pastor Minja and I led the delegation into the room, at the teacher's signal, 40 or 50 kindergarten students stood and began singing and clapping. On the blackboard in large letters I read, "Welcome Pastor Andy Ballentine and St. Stephen Lutheran Church." (I truly was the congregation's ambassador!)

Then we were led to the building intended for a future technical school. Pastor Minja pointed out that all the decorative grills for the door and the windows had been constructed on the parish's welding machine! Inside, there were tables set for the entire traveling party: breakfast! (Of course, we had all eaten breakfast before setting out. But, eating again was part of the ceremony.)

All the while during these various processions? The parish's brass band was playing! And, in-between songs, I could hear the choirs in the church, singing. How I would have loved to just sit in the church, listening and enjoying the singing. But there was no chance for that. There was ceremony to attend to!

Finally, it was time for worship. We were led by the brass band into the church packed with hundreds of people. The overflow crowd looked in through the windows! We were in church for three hours. Have you read the text I prepared for my sermon, on the St. Stephen web site? It turned out to be about 75% of what I ended up saying, with Pastor Minja translating my English in Swahili.) We had the offering -- during which everyone filed to the collection boxes, led by the pastors, who put in their offerings first. We had a healing service. We had another offering: everyone who was thankful for healing came forward and put a thank offering into the baskets. We heard from all four choirs. We heard the kindergartners demonstrate what they had learned. (Here's all they recited for us: the 10 Commandments -- in Swahili and then in English; the Lord's Prayer; and, finally, three children came forward with puzzle-style maps. One picked up puzzle pieces, identifying the seven continents in the world another named every country in Africa; and the third named every region in TZ! How many of you can do any of those things? Well, I hope you can all say the Lords' Prayer!) Then -- we had a ceremonial presentation of gifts Pastor Minja gave me a gift for st. Stephen, and gifts for me. They also had a gift for each member of the traveling party - some of that beautiful Tanzanian cloth, carvings. I then presented the gift of our congregation's banner to the Mongai Parish, and a gift of two clergy shirts to Pastor Minja, along with a cap from Susan Deierling, and I read the text of a certificate I had composed announcing the gift from our Lenten offerings for the support of the kindergarten and the school scholarships.

Still we weren't finished! Following the service was an auction outsie the church building (to raise a few more TZ shillings for the parish) -- to sell vegetables grown by members of the parish.

And then it was time for the travelling party to sit down for dinner! We were taken back for a HUGE meal, FOLLOWED by a goat that was roasted, with the head intact; only done for the highest of celebrations.

At one point, Pastor Minja leaned over and said, "It is very rare for there to be a parish partnership like there is between Mongai and St. Stephen. And it is very rare for there to be a parish kindergarten. Most of our families make about $1 a day. If it wasn't for you, none of these children would be able to be in kindergarten."

Thanks be to God!

I've found an Internet cafe close to where I'm staying these first few days in Tanzania, so I can send at least one report!

We travelled 22 hours to get here. (That includes time spent waiting in airports and two flights and a bus ride from the Kilimanjaro airport to the Uruhu Lutheran Hotel in the city of Moshi.) I'm hoping that tomorrow morning, after a second night of good sleep, I'll be over most of the jet lag effects.

What a privilege it is to be here. That's what I'm thinking. What a stage in my sabbatical pilgrimage. I want to give emphasis to listening, being open, not judging, receiving. It's all a bit overwhelming, though, because EVERYTHING -- the people, the language, the scenery, the animals, the way of life -- everything is entirely unlike anything I've ever experienced before. Many of the people I've come into contact with do speak some English (and some are quite expert). I'm also amazed at how many signs of businesses are in English. It's a legacy of a former ruler, to encourage the use of English. Of course, Swahili is the primary language that everyone speaks. I know enough to say things like "hello" and "thank you."

The agenda of these days is to visit churches and schools and social ministry agencies doing the work of Christ in the Northern Diocese of the Evangelical Lutheran Church of Tanzania. I'm used to the American church, which has lots of money and little sense of mission. What I'm experiencing here is a church with no money, but which exists for mission.

Hopefully I'll be able to get back on this to send future messages while I'm here! Just wanted to let folks know that I got here and am doing well!

Off to Tanzania today ...

Don't know if there will be internet access ...

I got a huge kick out of the words and the picture yesterday, as President Bush was preparing to leave for his "farewell summit tour" to Europe. When he was asked a question about high gasoline prices and how that might come up during his talks with other leaders, the President said, "We'll just have to convince our friends and allies that we are too dependent on hydrocarbons."

What a HOOT!

As if this president hasn't fought against all attempts to raise fuel efficiency standards on cars. As if this president hasn't catered to every interest of oil companies. As if our European "friends and allies" haven't suffered from extremely high energy costs for years, while Americans have lived wastefully, under the illusion that our resources are limitless. As if our European "friends and allies" haven't responded by creating excellent mass transportation, and living in small houses and apartments, and driving small, gas-sipping cars. (As columnist Tom Friedman put it, "Most European families have one fuel-efficient car that they don't drive very much.")

The tableau yesterday couldn't have been more effectively set up by an anti-Bush political satirist. As the President spoke about our over-reliance on fossil fuels, in the background was the enormous and enormously wasteful presidential helicopter waiting to fly him for five or ten minutes to Andrews Air Force Base, where he would board the enormous and enormously wasteful presidential jumbo jet to fly wherever his heart desires.

The President delivered his remarks with a straight face! Could he actually mean what he says? If so, a late repentance is better than no repentance at all, I guess.

I can't help but remember that the much-maligned President Jimmy Carter warned us that we were too dependent upon hydrocarbons -- 30 years ago. Those of you who are old, like I am, may remember that he advocated a project that would have rivaled the American effort to put a man on the moon: to develop alternate energy technologies. But what was the political reaction? "Defeatist!" proclaimed his presidential opponent, Ronald Reagan. "It's morning in America!" And Reagan soundly trounced Carter in the 1980 election.

What if we had followed Carter's lead 30 years ago? One can only wistfully imagine ...

Since Reagan so badly beat Carter, both Republicans and Democrats have learned their lesson well: don't tell the truth, if the truth will entail sacrifice and a change of "the American way of life." Pretend we can just keep going the way we always have.

Because this has been the dominant ethos among our elected officials, we are much the worse off.

It's 9:20 AM, and it's 90 degrees.

These days, for morning prayer, I'm using the order from the Book of Common Worship (Presbyterian Church USA). Among the sentences for Monday is this:

You created the day and the night, O God;
you set the sun and the moon in their places;
you set the limits of the earth;
you made summer and winter.

Summer! And how! It is as if we have been plunged into the dog days of summer. It's hard to believe that, a week ago, I was wearing blue jeans and a sweatshirt at Camp Caroline Furnace, because it was so chilly. By the end of the days I spent at the camp, it had become sticky hot.

I went up to Caroline Furnace, as part of my work as the Virginia Synod Discernment Advocate for Project Connect, to do some sessions in the training program for this summer's camp counselors. The purpose of Project Connect is to encourage young adults (aged 18-30) to consider what work God is calling them to do in adulthood -- and to encourage those with gifts to be good pastors or lay rostered ministers to consider that calling. I spent a day doing that, with the Discernment Advocate for the Metro DC Synod. Then, I spent three days mostly in silence and solitude at the camp, reading and praying.

Then, on Friday morning, I got in the car and drove south on I-81, to Roanoke College, for the Virginia Synod Assembly. Since I'm on sabbatical, I had first thought that I could blow off the Synod Assembly this year. But then I remembered: Oh yeah. Being there as a visible presence for Project Connect is one of the requirements for a Discernment Advocate ... In fact, the Assembly planners gave me time on the agenda to address the entire Assembly. That permission isn't given frequently. So I was able to do my job, speaking, stocking a display table, schmoozing during breaks and meals.

However -- since I am on sabbatical, I was not a very responsible Assembly member. I only spent a couple of hours, total, in my seat on the Assembly floor. I sat in the gallery with Patty (who came to the Assembly for the first time in her life, because I was gone last week and will be gone the next two weeks, so it was a chance to be together). On Saturday Patty and I were tourists in Roanoke, where there was a sidewalk art festival downtown, and the farmer's market, and a great pub for lunch, and time spent poking around the majestic old Hotel Roanoke. We worshiped at the Synod's festival worship service on Saturday night. On Sunday morning after breakfast we got in the car to drive home. Patty had never been to the Rockbridge Vineyard, which is owned and operated by one of her high school classmates, so we stopped there. And we stopped for lunch in Charlottesville at a hippy-type restaurant -- in an old house on a funky side street -- that's been around since we were in school. Then we came home. It was the best Synod Assembly I've ever enjoyed!

I drove 580 miles of interstate driving, and I concluded that the price of gas is still not high enough. Over those 580 miles, I passed a total of seven vehicles. (That doesn't count the trucks I passed on the way up hills on I-81; trucks that wooshed past me on the downhiils.) With the cruise control pegged at 65 mph, my Pontiac Vibe got 40 miles per gallon. I wonder why nearly everyone else on the road was so intent on wasting gas and paying more at the pump than they would have had they driven at the speed limit?