Spanish ... or Not

As most of you know, I serve with two congregatations in Sparta, Wisconsin, one Anglo and one Hispanic. While my Hispanic brothers and sisters are very generous about my Spanish, they certainly deserve better than they get from me. That was the primary reason for my coming on this trip. There are other reasons, of course, and God has a way of making that quite clear every day. Learning, listening to, and speaking Spanish, though, really were the primary reasons for my taking this journey. And it´s coming. Despacio, pero esta viniendo! Aprendo y comprendo mas cada día. (Slowly, but it is coming. I learn and understand more every day.) However, I have found myself in the part of Central America where people generally speak English.

In Panamá, I landed in the Canal Zone, which was established by the Americans when we were there helping to build and manage the Canal. The church I first worshipped in, St. Luke´s Cathedral, was founded by a U.S. Army physician. The current Bishop, a black man from Panamá, offered his homily in Spanish and English, and there were more than a few people who looked and sounded like me. I met a woman who had been born and raised in Panamá, lived in the U. S. with her husband during their professional days and retired to the place she knows as home. There were others, though, who looked nothing like me and spoke English with the most beautiful cadence and accent.

These folks were my introduction to the West Indies´ influence here in Central America. West Indians provided the hard labor necessary for construction ... of the Canal in Panama and the railroad in Costa Rica. The people I was meeting were decendents of those men and woman who came to Central America to work and raise their families. Not all of them worked in construction. As communities of laborers built up, other services were needed, and people from back home came to provide those services and soon became businessmen and women -- professionals.

The West Indians were not allowed to worship in "white" churches. I don´t know when that changed, exactly, but I was told that the racial issue in Panamá followed the same pattern as in the United States.

It was curious to know who spoke English and who did not, and my own preconceived notions (prejudices, I´m sorry to say) were challenged. I met a priest 15 or 20 years older than I am who spoke no English and one of her parishioners who spoke it well. In fact, she interpreted for me and the priest. This parishioner was an 80-year-old black woman. Imagine my surprise -- and utter joy -- at hearing her say "okey-dokey." I´m not even sure my very WASP-y grandmother says "okey-dokey."

People of West Indian heritage are why English is so prevelant on the Carribean Coast of Central America. I´m aware of the town of Bluefields, Nicaragua, also on the Carribean Coast, for whom the primary language is English. (I´ll be visiting there sometime in the next couple weeks, as there is a growing Episcopal Church there, too.) However, English is fading. The newer generations, I´ve been told, seem to be denying their black heritage and want to be known / identified only as Spanish-speaking Costa Ricans -- Ticas!

Some families choose to send their children to "English schools" to insure that their children are bilingual, even if the parents themselves are not. Private schools teach English as core curriculuum; public schools do not. There is an Episcopal School in Panama -- St. Christopher´s -- from which children will graduate fluent in English and Spanish and conversational in French. Mandarin is also offered. The Episcopal Schools are the best in Panamá. Families register their children as infants in the hopes that there will be space available when the time comes. Costa Rica may very well be following in those footsteps, but that´s another blog post.

Most of the services I´ve attended have either been in English or have been bilingual ... and heavy on the English. I´m wondering if that´s going to have to change. There are a couple generations now for whom Spanish is their first and preferred language. They are generations not found in the churches here, and I have to wonder if the language issue is part of that. In all fairness, they are probably the same generations not found in the churches in the U.S., and language isn´t the issue there. Or is it? In order to listen to the reasons the generations are not in the church and to hear what they need and hunger for, language is the issue. In the U.S., we can´t speak of traditional worship when the generations are clamoring for justice and spiritual growth. In Central America -- and here´s hoping my Central American colleagues speak to this -- the church can´t speak English when the hearts of its people grieve and celebrate in Spanish. In our communities, we are called to love people where they are. And maybe ... just maybe ... we´re called to speak to them in the language their hearts best understand.

I´ve been grateful for the English that has allowed me to receive and absorb as many of the personal stories and as much of the history as I have in these few weeks. And I´ll be grateful, too, to move into those areas that will empower me to return home and speak to the hearts of my Hispanic brothers and sisters in the language their hearts best understand.