It was late on Saturday night when we heard the bell on our
front gate ring.
I called for CJ saying, “Anyone coming to our house at this
time of night is definitely going to need to talk to the man of the house.”
But I was wrong.
It was a sweet little lady that lives across the street from
us. She was so shy as she handed us a fancy, printed invitation card. Of course it was all written in Burmese, but
I could clearly make out the names of her and her husband, her address and a
time/date for whatever it was she was inviting us to.
“What is this for?” I asked her, knowing it couldn’t be a
wedding. I thought maybe it was an anniversary party.
“It’s called a Wah Soh,” she replied in her native tongue.
“Please come,” she said as she walked away.
Neither CJ nor myself knew what a Wah Soh was. Thankfully we
were able to ask some other local friends at church the next day.
Our friends explained that a Wah Soh is a Buddhist
celebration where people have monks come to their house for a blessing, and
they invite all their friends and neighbors to come as well.
Our friends also said that as Christians, they never
attended these events.
I didn’t need too much temptation to make me not want to get
all dressed up for a Buddhist festival at 9 o’clock the next morning. But then
when our friends explained that the people hosting the festival feed everyone
who comes, CJ was all in.
“Come on,” he persuaded me. “It will be a good cultural
experience.”
Of course our neighbors know we are Christian, and they knew
we wouldn’t be doing any worshipping of the monks. They still invited us as a
sign of friendship.
We have been trying to build relationships with our
neighbors these past couple months that we’ve lived in this part of the city.
I’ve been enjoying talking with the other moms who live on our street. They all
sit in plastic chairs in the road while the children run around and play. CJ
also spends time with the men who like to congregate near a little snack vendor
on our block.
Being that we are the first foreigners to live in this area,
they all seemed a little leery at first to talk with us. But we’ve invited them
into our home. We’ve asked them for advice about this or that – like which
market to shop at nearby or the best time of day to pump water, etc. We’ve played
with their kids, and we brought them small presents from our trips to other
places.
They have begun talking to us more now, and they seem to be
a little more at ease around us. They just can’t believe that we don’t eat rice
three times a day, and they don’t understand the concept of kids having a bed
time. They seem to enjoy marveling at our cultural differences.
I was unsure if we were truly making any headway with them
at all, but then the Wah Soh invitation came.
Did you ever get that feeling as a kid when someone you
didn’t know real well invited you to their birthday party? Didn’t it make you
feel accepted despite the number times you had embarrassed yourself on the
playground?
Well, that’s how I felt when we received that invitation.
I felt a little like Sally Fields when she got her Oscar –
They like us! They really, really like us!
Still when the time for the party came, I was very nervous. Anytime
you do something for the first time, it’s bound to cause some butterflies, let
alone a first time cross-cultural experience which provides even more
opportunities to make a fool of yourself.
I wanted to make sure we didn’t appear disrespectful due to
such a great difference of beliefs. I knew the Wah Soh would be an opportunity
to see more about what Buddhists believe and how they worship first-hand. I
felt like if we went and respectfully listened to their beliefs, they might
even be more willing to listen to ours when we share with them about JC.
So we went.
Of course everyone in Southeast Asia arrives late. It was
helpful living right across the street so I could see when people started
arriving 30 minutes after the time printed on the invitation.
We greeted our neighbors as we walked into their house, and
we were hurried to an open upstairs room where the monks had just started their
chanting. There was a room full of people, packed in with just enough room for
each person to sit cross-legged. Zoe and I squeezed into a spot along the back
wall. CJ was ushered up closer to the front with the other men. (Mia remained
at home with a guest who had been staying with us a couple days.)
The monks held long-stemmed flowers with streamers pressed
between their hands. They chanted in unison as they kneeled in front of a
small, golden Buddha statue in a glass case. Every so often they would say
something that the people would repeat, and they all bowed their face to the
ground with their hands pressed together at their foreheads.
The people didn’t seem to care that we just sat there
watching. Actually, I was silently praying for each person that I could lay my
eyes on around the room. I was praying that they would each come to know the
Truth, and that they would give their hearts to Him.
We sat through about 30 minutes of the chanting before we
excused ourselves.
They insisted we eat before we left. It was really delicious
chicken and rice with a curry soup, so we didn’t mind.
We sat and chatted with our neighbors’ daughters for awhile.
The family seemed so happy that we came.
Later that day, long after the celebration was over and all
the guests had left, the father of the family brought over to our house several
containers of left-over food. I thought that was so sweet.
These years we’ve lived in this beautiful city, we’ve worked
so hard to assimilate among the people so that we can share Father’s message in
ways that the people will receive it. We try to speak their language. We try to
dress like them. We try to live among them.
We don’t just want to be some foreigners with a foreign
religion.
How can we ever attempt to provide a bridge to the Truth if
we live separated and as aliens to the people?
Just like when we’ve visited the local pagodas and we’ve
seen the people bowing down there to man-made idols, the Wah Soh was another
reminder of the urgency of our mission.
Can it also serve as another reminder to you to pray? Pray
for us, of course! But also will you intercede for the people of this city?
Pray that their hearts would be open to the Saving Message and that they would
receive Him.
Until all have heard!
