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rebooked revisited: reposting from gracey’s blog

REBOOKED: BRINGING A SMALL HILL OF BOOKS TO
THE RICE-TERRACED MOUNTAINS OF BANAWE
http://marygracey.blogspot.com
October 5, 2007

Previously considered as one of the “wonders of the world,” the Banawe Rice Terraces has been edged out of the recently declared list of the new Wonders of the World. Nonetheless, I don’t think it has ceased to evoke wonder from both foreign visitors and local tourists like me.

A few months ago, I had the opportunity to visit Ifugao, the province where the famous terraced mountains are located. It was an awe-inspiring sight, those gigantic staircases. And the longer you at stare at it, the more you would realize that you are looking at such extraordinary inheritance, passed on from generation to generation of simple farmer folk. JC, one of the Trumpets ARTReach mentors who was in the same trip to Banawe, gave an insightful description: “What’s more amazing than the fact that these rice terraces has been existing for thousands of years is that they were actually eked out of the mountains by a people who, at that time, neither had bulldozers, power tools nor engineering degrees. Only a unified community with a tremendous resolve could have pulled off such a task. More remarkably, the rice terraces are still serving their purpose to this day, centuries after they were carved out of the mountainsides; and one can actually say that the fruits of the Ifugao ancestors’ labors are still—literally—being reaped.”

Sightseeing wasn’t the main reason I came to Banawe though; I was actually part of a group that went on a three-day outreach trip to Ifugao last June. Six of my college friends and I—representing the UP Diliman Navigators Alumni—and five others from Trumpets ARTreach came together for a project named ‘Rebooked’. Before we went to see the rice terraces at the end of the trip, we gave what must have been a ton of books to public elementary and high schools and a Bible school in the locality.

We called the outreach program ‘Rebooked’ because, like the famed rice terraces, the books we handed over to the schools were some sort of an “inheritance” too—most of the them were used (but still useful) textbooks, reference materials, and other types of literature collected from relatives, friends, co-workers, and neighbors in Metro Manila and nearby areas. There were also individuals whom we met along the way who took time to find books in their possession that are no longer in use. For many of them, it offered a convenient chance to help others and a very charitable way to get rid of stuff that would otherwise go on taking up space and gathering dust in their homes.

JC and other friends from Trumpets ARTReach spiced up the programs with theatrical performances and also directed a half-day theater workshop for the school kids that culminated with a short presentation. For the seasoned theater performers-tutors who handled similar workshops many times before, it may seem that training the Ifugao kids to perform will be a piece of cake. But it wasn’t. JC recounted the experience of teaching the kids: “It was a difficult thing to do, to teach the Ifugao children how to perform in half a day and make them come up with a recital performance in the same afternoon. There’s the dialect barrier to contend with, not to mention the great cultural difference between us and the Ifugao kids…plus, the weather was hot and sticky, and you’d really rather stay in bed, or in the shower.”

Neither were the tasks of collecting, sorting and packing books, raising funds, and organizing the team easy for the UPD Navigators Alumni. To begin with, we were just a group of friends who, although with previous experiences in similar activities, would be carrying out this project sans the full scaffold of institutions or organizations. It was overwhelming, to say the least. In our eyes, we didn’t have enough money, we were relatively undermanned, and we lacked preparation. All we really had, apart from the steadfast support of friends, is the heart to reach out to others and the conviction that this is what God has led us to do as an answer to our prayers.But there we were, welcomed by the people of Lamut, Ifugao with such warmth only rivaled by the sunlit skies of the extended tropical summer weather that we had been blessed with during those three days. The minute we laid out a colorful set of storybooks on a table beside the open assembly hall of the public school compound, there was a throng of kids over the display table, all trying to get a peek of what the “visitors from Manila” had brought for them. I saw some of the little ones reach out to touch or stroke the books—such excitement etched in their bright eyes and eager faces! Seeing this, I felt a smile melt the exhaustion that had frozen over my demeanor the past few weeks.

The reading and theater workshops we conducted the second day were well-attended and by the end of the afternoon, we were able to help the kids come up with decent skits of the Parable of the Lost Sheep and the Parable of the Sower. JC wrote in his blog: “We had the kids perform in the lawn of the Tribal Gospel Missions Bible School compound just before sunset. The light was perfect and a cool breeze was blowing. I didn’t see Him, but somehow I knew that, as the kids take the field to give a rendition of Jesus’ parables with such heartfelt enthusiasm, God was smiling as He watched.”

Yet unknown to others at that time, each of us would rather do something else or have the project accomplished in another, “better” way. Personal concerns—none of which were too trivial to be left behind in Manila—hijacked our backpacks and we lugged them to Ifugao along with the books and our extra clothes. It was but natural then, that some would rather seek solace on their own and tend to their internal matters than deal with a hundred giddy children. We were actually longing for a chance to soak in days of mercy—those days in the boxing ring of life when you hear the bell ring and you’re allowed to go to your corner where somebody lets you sip solace, towels off your weariness, and dabs relief on your battered face.

For the Rebooked team, this boxing round started earlier. My college friend Roovin, who acted as the project leader, admitted: “Midway through the project, I entertained doubts about Rebooked’s completion. This was after all the fundraising activities did not produce the expected cash inflow, books were coming at a slow pace (especially at the early stages of preparation), and implementation dates were postponed multiple times. Add to that, I faced insecurities about my capacity to lead this project. Now, when I look back, those doubting times were actually God’s way of redirecting my heart’s course. If everything went well as we planned them, God knows that I may succumb to the temptation of taking the credit. But God wasn’t teaching me about project management; what He wanted me to learn is to depend on His provision for what we need and for the resources necessary for His work. It is from Him that we desire to bring goodness to others (Ephesians 2:10) and from Him that we obtain the means to do so (John 15:5).”

Still, many in the team were also concerned about bringing long-term results in such a short time. Alex, the program coordinator and another friend from my undergraduate years, posted his thoughts in an e-group some weeks before the trip: “Will providing books to some far-flung school library do much to raise the level of education of the young there? Even if it did, what assurances do we have that our good deed will bear fruit and contribute to transforming a generation of Filipinos to become more learned, responsible and responsive citizens? Sometimes it is difficult to grasp the power of one. It takes extra effort to convince ourselves that, yes, the little good deed that we do”—with second-hand books, over one weekend, or whatever we find ourselves with—“can be used by God to effect change. Like the ripples that a small stone makes when it is dropped in a still pond, our small acts of faithfulness have the potential to grow into eternal significance.”

Jean, one of the hardworking proponents of the project, have similar questions and musings: “How does one go out of herself and extend God’s goodness to others while making enough room to receive from them and from God, given the shortness of time? Would our group really make any impact or change anything at all? Then God reminded me that we are not going there to accomplish a task. We were not the ones who would do the work. He would bring us to Ifugao to witness Him do His work. Through Rebooked, I learned to appreciate more the transforming power of God. I realized that His work can’t be limited by anything—certainly not by the little time or money we had.” It’s true that whether it’s a short encounter or a lifelong friendship, a hefty amount of cash or second-hand stuff, God can break and multiply the few loaves of bread and the small fish we have to feed crowds who are hungry for His mercy and goodness.

I don’t think any of us really got to spend time alone that weekend. But I’m sure that neither was anyone disappointed with how Rebooked turned out. I agree with JC that “it’s difficult to be selfless, to think about other people’s needs before ours.” After all, to be unconditionally giving isn’t the default setting of human nature since the fall. And to let the world know about His love and His gift of salvation while we ourselves are still learning to receive and live out His grace and redemption appears to be a mammoth task. “But,” JC contends, “if a community of primitive farmers can make rice paddies come out of mountains, I’m sure the Church can make a harvest of the world. And I’m glad to be part of it.”

Just a couple of weeks after the Banawe outreach, still sleep-deprived and rushing to meet job deadlines, I attended a short course on Transformational Development. On the first day of sessions, I distinctly heard the main speaker talk about an indication of real transformation in a community. She said that a community has been transformed for good if the development workers feel that they have benefited more from the people they serve than they have given to that community. This reminded me of Rebooked’s last day in Ifugao. Physically drained and sleepy as we were in the bus back to Manila, that is exactly how we felt in our hearts just before we left the place—that we gained more than we gave away. But there’s really nothing new about that. Didn’t Jesus say, some 2,000 thousand years ago, that it is better to give than to receive?

*with JC Gotinga, Jean Francis Barcena, Roovin Estrellanes, and Alexander Tan
^ metaphor partly adapted from Sue Monk Kidd’s work

are u wearing a shame coat?

hey peeps! aleks here. we’re back from ifugao! praise the Lord! thank you for your prayers and support. roovin, jing, dan, louise (trumpets), and i traveled back to manila saturday night, while the rest of the team stayed on for sightseeing sunday. i google-talked with jean this morning and she’s still groggy from the trip (they arrived 3AM monday). more details soon! and i’m sure the others have loads of stories to tell 🙂

hemingways… i was browsing through the new books at work to choose an excerpt for our newsletter, and i came upon these words from andrew comiskey’s strength in weakness. thought i’d share (yeah, i’m the quote guy around here…)

Shame is the raincoat of the soul, repelling the living water that would otherwise establish us as the beloved of God. It prevents us from receiving grace and truth where we need them the most….

But our Father is faithful. Through the cross Jesus removes every attitude that repels the truth of the Father’s love for us. That love surpasses the cursed thought patterns collected over a lifetime of pain.

Though thick and well suited to repel love, our “shame coats” are no match for God’s love for us, a love revealed at Calvary.

Esep-esep 🙂