May 24, 2010 
What did Jesus hope would happen for those he met? What do we hope will happen for those we meet with whom we speak of Jesus? Jesus seemed most hopeful that they would “come to know God like he did,” a relationship of intimacy that was personally transforming, life-giving, healing and illuminating. Though we can speak of Jesus power, it is his graciousness that most touches me. And the following narrative revealed and re-affirmed that graciousness in an unusual, unexpected, possibly controversial way. I’ll tell it briefly.
Tlamaquesapa is a tiny, rather primitive village in the high mountains that overlook Cuernavaca, Mexico. Some women in the village fashion sturdy brooms from the twigs of a shrub that are both supple and strong. Others weave beautifully multi-colored baskets of every possible size from a hearty, plentiful small palm species that absorbs die in a way that maintains a brilliance of color. Tuesdays and Saturdays brooms and baskets are loaded atop old and rickety buses headed down the mountain to be sold on street corners, road-side stalls and in the city market. Life in Tlama is rugged and spartan.
These hearty people draw strength from an indigenous religion, a typical rural Mexican amalgam of beliefs that pre-date by centuries the conquest, blended with a Roman Catholicism that merged and mingled with those existing practices, and influenced by the presence of shaman-like wisdom figures or holy men. As part of this religious practice each home has a sacred stone nestled into a wall or beneath the earth floor – the presence of which assures divine presence and protection.
I sat one morning in a dusty circle, amid faces creased and weathered by the relentless sun on their mountain slope village, and heard this story. We’ll call him Jose. A group of evangelical Christians, knocking door to door, convinced him that he should commit his life to Jesus. They gave him as a gift a cross to put in a place of honor in his home. And . . . to remove the sacred stone, which they insisted was a matter of superstition at best, demonic at worst. He dug it up and tossed it into the field behind his property.
Some months later Jose got sick. A doctor who visited the village once a month prescribed some medicine. The evangelicals came and prayed for healing. Jose got worse. Everyone could see that Jose was dying. His neighbor asked the shaman to come by, which he did. The shaman asked about the cross, accepting Jose’s explanation without judgment. “But where is the sacred stone?” the shaman asked. “I can sense it is no longer here.” Jose pointed to the field. “Get the stone and bury it again under the floor, Jose,” he gently but firmly counseled. And Jose did. Nearby the cross, in fact. Within days Jose began to get better and returned to full strength within weeks.
How to interpret this story? Fellow Christian I have shared it with have reacted differently, some dramatically so. It is for me a story of a humble, gracious Jesus. Jesus incognito. The same Spirit, I would submit – that manifests in a cross for many Christians, through the mystical presence of Jesus, through prayers uttered in his name, myself included – manifested in that sacred stone for Jose. I am not sure if the evangelicals returned, and if so what they said when they heard the story. But, as the narrative came to a close, and the peasant faces broke into a smile, I heard myself whisper, “Thank you, Jesus!”
No Comments 