1 Chapel Talk Nan Mein 18 Feb 1998 Ps 27, Luke 6:20-31 Every ...

Chapel Talk
Nan Mein
18 Feb 1998
1
Ps 27, Luke 6:20-31
Every day, each of us makes decisions. Some are big, some are small. Decisions carry us
into a future that is only partially known. A future where we meet ourselves afresh, and
learn new things about ourselves-- what we can do well, what we do poorly, what we love,
what we fear. Tonight I want to tell you about a decision I made, and what I learned about
myself.
I was 25 years old, and single. I lived in Des Moines, Iowa, where I taught five sections
of the History of Western Civilization at Drake University. At about this time of year, I
was offered the chance to go to tropical West Africa and teach in a village school. The
choice was big, but simple: to go to a remote village in Liberia, or to stay in the Midwest
and pursue my academic career. “Decide NOW,” the Commissary said. “Do you want to
go to Africa” I took a deep breath and said "Yes." “Good. You will teach English and
History... and the rest you’ll find out when you get there.”
Several months later, when I finally climbed out of the Landrover, hot dusty and sweaty, I
was so excited. My new life! I had left the Middle West, the middle class, the middle
expectations. I did not know how much I had to learn.
The teaching was wonderful: young Africans from four different tribes were eager to
learn, often demanding extra classes. Classrooms were individual square huts, with walls
on three sides. The fourth side was open to the weather, to animals, passersby who would
often sit down and listen. Leaning in one corner of the room were a machete and a snake
stick. This was a forked stick about five feet long. When I asked rather nervously how to
use it, I was told not to worry; the students would deal with any poisonous snake that
came into the classroom. A student would pin the snake down with the forked stick, and
another student would cut off its head with the machete. Naively, I asked how to tell a
poisonous from a non-poisonous snake. The principal said, “Oh, that’s easy. Poisonous
snakes have a big red P on their heads.” The day that a black mamba snake came

slithering over the back wall, I learned how fast I could run. I watched the beheading of
the deadly snake from a cautious distance. And everyone in the class had snake for
supper.
2
The girls’ dorm which I supervised was another world, another culture. On weekends I
walked from village to village with an interpreter, holding adult literacy classes-- another
teaching challenge. The other part of my routine was the weekly visit to the leper colony,
Mbalatahun, town of healing.
Leprosy-- the wasting disease feared around the world, throughout history. Its proper
name is Hanson’s Disease. Earlier this century, a cure was discovered, and medication
taken regularly would halt the disease. But if unchecked, leprosy is contagious. It is
spread by touch.
In 1925, when American Episcopalians arrived to start the Holy Cross Mission, they
founded schools and a hospital. One day, taking a break, one of the Americans was
strolling around the perimeter of the village. He saw a small path that he had not noticed
before, leading away from the village through the tall grass. Where does it go Nowhere,
he was told. He walked down the path a few hundred yards and came back. Who lives
there No one, he was told. No person there.
Curious, he went back. At the end of the path, in a little clearing, was a hut. A woman
and her husband lived there; both were lepers. They had been members of a local family,
but when they contracted leprosy, they ceased to exist. They ceased to be people. They
became invisible. Their leprosy was quite advanced. The disease, which is painless,
consumes tissue very slowly. Since it is contagious, the symptoms are usually first seen
on hands. Fingers die, leaving clumps of hand bones. The nose, facial tissue, toes, feet:
all die. These two lepers had little wheeled carts that had been made for them by their
former family. They could kneel on them, and push themselves in and out of their hut and
around their little clearing. Once a week, members of their former family brought food for
them, leaving it at the edge of the clearing.

When the mission doctor heard of them, he said, “I wondered when we would find the
lepers. We will build a town for them. Mbalatahun-- town of healing.” Word spread
from village to village, and after a year or so, lepers began to appear-- some pushing
themselves on their wheeled carts, others brought by their former families. All were given
the magic tablets that arrested the disease. Fingers, toes, noses, flesh and bones would not
grow back, but the disease was stopped. They lived with others like them. They had
healthy children. They were people again, visible people, free to come and go, to shop in
the big village on market day.
3
I told you that one of my weekly assignments was to go to the leper colony. Repair their
wheeled carts, hand out clean dressings [bandages], help those who needed help in
rewrapping their limbs, give out the weekly pills. Sounds OK I was terrified.
I was full of fear. I was afraid to touch a leper. Afraid I would catch leprosy. Yes, I knew
that everyone there was safe to touch, their leprosy under control. But I was rigid with
fear. Afraid to touch. Ashamed of myself. I told myself, “These lepers are God’s poor--
they have nothing, except the love of God. What kind of Christian are you” Each week I
would go back to my house, hands stiff at my sides, my face streaming with sweat, afraid
to wipe it off, to touch my nose, my mouth. I would wash my hands with disinfectant,
scrubbing them again and again. Think of excuses why I couldn’t go next week. Papers
to grade. Lessons to prepare. But next week always came. And my ugly fear. And my
shame. This was a part of myself I hadn’t known about. Do unto others as you would
have them do to you: is this how I would want to be treated if I had leprosy
And then at a staff meeting, I heard that one of my 11th grade students had leprosy. “Not
an advanced case,” we were told. “Just a small patch on his arm. He will stay at school
and not move out to Mbalatahun.” I saw this boy every day! We greeted every day! The
traditional greeting is to snap fingers. You can’t snap fingers if you’re a leper. Lepers
were never greeted. Of course they were invisible. They were not people. But I had been
snapping fingers with Peter Akoi for a year.
I kept going to the leper colony, getting to know the people. And going home and
washing obsessively, and acknowledging my failure. And then one day, at the weekly

market, the routine greetings. Issa...Issa....I reached out in response to “Issa, Teachah,”
tried to snap fingers, and found none. “Oh,” I thought, “a leper.” And went on, looking
for some fresh papaya. I realized that I had finally come to see these disfigured strangers
as people. Persons like me. God loved them. God loved me. I had nothing to fear. My
fear was taken away.
4
Today, leprosy has virtually disappeared. You read about it in the history of medicine.
But there are invisible people in our world today. There are people on wheeled carts. In
the USA there are 40 million people who are permanently disabled. One of them, the
young golfer Casey Martin, made news two weeks ago. Under the Americans with
Disabilities Act, signed into law by President George Bush in 1990, Casey Martin won the
right to ride rather than walk during tournaments.
I hope that when I have gone through another operation and have a new right knee, I will
no longer need to use my wheelchair. But I have learned some new lessons since mid-
November when my left knee collapsed and in an instant I became dependent on my
wheeled cart. I have learned how a few stairs can be an insurmountable obstacle. How
beautiful buildings can become exclusive clubs, and I’m not a member. How long it can
take to do routine tasks, like getting through a door. How it feels to go shopping and have
children stare at you. How it feels to be invisible to “abled” people.
I began by talking about decisions and how they can teach us about ourselves. Tonight I
ask you to think about decisions you make every day about how you treat other people.
Many of us have experienced temporary disability as a result of athletic or other accidents.
A longer term disability is possible for any of us. While you are healthy, examine your
fears. Consider what you do when you act out of those fears. And consider how you treat
those who are not like you-- the poor, the hungry, the disabled. Decide to act out of love,
generosity, openness and concern rather than dislike and fear.
Now is the time, in the words of St. Luke, to do unto others as you would have them do to
you.