Bishop David Roller's Blog

(Posted from Chile )

Well, it’s over. At least in a technical sense; we have flown around the world. When we arrived back on Chilean soil this afternoon, which we had left on January 3, we had circumnavigated the globe in 24 days.

And, for those who have followed my hypothesis about being forever a day younger: I was wrong. That crazy International Date Line messed me up. For those new to this blog, I’ve left my digital watch “as is” from when we left Baltimore. Alas, upon arriving back in Santiago, both the hour and date are correct. So, I’m sure all the smart people are rolling their eyes, like “what was he thinking?” But this is one of the joys of not knowing everything; the joy of wondering, the joy of experimentation, and the joy of being flat wrong on something that doesn’t matter.

And, for the more juvenile, to not say infantile, reader, you would be interested to know that I went around the world without changing my jeans. Yes, that’s right friends, 24 days in my trusty levis. I just wanted the bragging rights. The dubious bragging rights. I think it’s a guy thing.

The other funny thing about today is that we got it twice. We left Auckland Sunday at 5:25PM, flew 12 hours and arrived in Santiago at noon on Sunday. After a 5 hour wait we departed (for a 2nd time) on Sunday evening, this time at 6:05PM. Go figure that one out, smart people.

Sorry to not have anything to write, about which we could ruminate, but my brain is temporarily “on hold” after 11 hours on the plane and the anticipation of 5 more.

On to Easter Island! David Roller

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(Posted from New Zealand)

Queenstown is like dozens of other youth-tourist-oriented towns sprinkled around the world; Magnets for young travelers looking for adventure and stories to tell. Cutesy pedestrian walkways, 2nd-story pubs full of young guys from all over the world looking for quick hook-ups: Young women letting themselves be objects and pretending they’re in control.

It reminds me of Torremolinos in Spain, Arlie Beach in Australia, the backpacker part of Cuzco in Peru, or Aspen in Colorado (never been there but I saw it in “Dumb & Dumber”). Also like Pucón in Chile, except not many internationals go there.

Queenstown markets itself as, “The Adventure Capital of the World.” Pretty heady stuff for a small alpine city of 18,000 on the South Island of New Zealand. I grew up in a small town in Michigan. I suppose it could have been marketed as “The Capital of Little Towns Near Where I-94 Intersects US 127.” That would have brought in those sophisticated Chicago tourists!

But we didn’t have any slogan. Or tourists. Or stories to tell.

Yvonne and I stick out here like chaperons at a 7th-grade dance. We take the walk around the peninsula while the youth take the jet boat to Shotover River, and bungee jump off bridges, and hang-glide and para-glide, and take the helicopter over the Remarkables (the nearby mountains.) And they mountain bike, and rock climb, and drink all night, and Yvonne and I take another walk and hold hands. And they go white-water-rafting, and river-boarding, and on the gravity sling, and take the gondolas up the mountains, and Yvonne and I sit on our balcony and make another pot of tea.

I wish I could put up a sign, “Want to Talk?” with a couple of chairs on the sidewalk. And Yvonne and I could speak of the Ancient of Days for a few minutes with these sophisticated 7th-graders who are suckers for a slogan and hungry for intimacy but being torn to pieces in their frenzied search. Torn to pieces.

David Roller

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(Posted on Sunday, or maybe Saturday)

It’s Sunday here in China, although its still Saturday in half of the world. Ha, ha, we’re winning!

If anybody understands the whole International Date Line thing just keep it to yourself, nobody likes a smart-aleck.

I’m doing a little scientific experiment: I’ve left the digital part of my watch on Baltimore time to see, as I travel east around the world if I gain a day. That’s my hypothesis: That I’m going to gain a day and will therefore always be a day younger and have to move my birthday from March 19th to March 20th. Note to smart people; don’t bother writing and explaining why I’m wrong.

So today’s Sunday and we’re taking a sabbath. Yes, a sabbath on a vacation. As I understand God’s economy, we’re to set aside one day in seven. Set it aside for worship as well as for “not work.” Since our vacation involves going out and seeing stuff we aren’t even going to try to find a church today. We’ll just have “church” right here in our hotel room.

I schedule sabbaths months ahead in my calendar. I write SABBATH in all caps on the day that will function as our sabbath that week. They’re rarely on a Sunday, often on Tuesdays.

But this International Date Line thing has me all worked up. If I gain a day by traveling east around the world, then my whole calendar’s going to be messed up! I’ll be showing up for appointments a day late (or a day early, I don’t know which) and I’ll be celebrating sabbaths on all the wrong days. Smart people; just relax, let me have my fun.

By the way I’m also conducting an experiment to see if the world is flat. If you don’t hear from me again after tomorrow you can know that it is indeed flat, and we have sailed off the edge into perpetual sabbaths.
David Roller

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(Posted from Beijing)

We’ve been in China now for three days. I don’t know why they say Mandarin is so hard. I can now successfully say, “thank you.” At this rate I could have good conversational Mandarin in 27 years.

We went outside of the city to see the Great Wall yesterday. It snowed all day imparting a unique touch to the visual experience. Plus it imparted freezing to death to us. Seeing the wall was great, though, especially because of the snow.

Our guide kept harping on Feng Shui (sorry about spelling, I don’t have access to research tools), which basically is a dedicated hunt for good luck. She was proud that she didn’t believe in God but she was sure excited about Feng Shui. (for not believing in God she was quite concerned about Him.)

As we were almost back to the city she turned to me. “Do you believe in ghosts?” she asked anxiously. She did, and said she was afraid to say anything because she thought they might hurt her.

“That’s the advantage of believing in God,” I suggested to her, “God is the biggest of all the spirits and can protect us.” I don’t know how to say, “whatever,” in Mandarin but I think that’s what she thought. Did I mention that I’ve learned how to say, “thank you” in Mandarin.

I sensed the same barriers with her as I sense with neo-pagan americans; our incredulous friends who have abandoned all paths of faith as untenable or simply unnecessary. And so they live untethered. Until they bump up against things like that primal fear of the dark, and ghosts, and what happens after we die?

Can we find ways to speak of God, in stories our friends can understand, before His patience runs out? I know I didn’t do a good job of telling God’s story to our guide yesterday. The same tired old arguments don’t convince. I suspect ironic stories might work. Remind you of anyone? By the way, did Jesus spend any time “preparing” his teaching stories. I think I’ll try that; working on my ghost stories.

David Roller

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(Posted from the train)

It’s 5:50 AM on Monday and we’re sitting on the train in Agra, waiting to depart for New Delhi.

Yesterday was amazing; we got to visit the Taj Mahal. I was overjoyed to see it. It’s one of those almost mythical places that you think, “it would be cool to see one day but I probably never will,” and then I was there.

It was nothing of a disappointment, only prettier and more exquisite than I had thought. And we had a beautiful day for it; a cloudless crisp day.

Our train is 90 percent empty, at least in our “air conditioned” coach. I guess that’s what they call first class. I would compare it to one of the old trains we used to ride in Mexico. Most of the coaches are “non-air conditioned” and they are fuller.

Our hotel in Agra was superb. We got it for free with credit card points. The grounds and rooms were large and immaculate, marble everywhere. We played cricket last evening on the lawn and took pictures of a monkey.
The streets outside were bedlam but it was calm inside.

We ordered a pizza last night from Pizza Hut, just to keep my cholesterol up.

We’ve left the station now and they rhythm of the tracks has begun.

A few hours later now, it’s light enough to see well. The train runs right through intense housing areas. We can see people stretching and blinking in the sun, but there are so many people they hardly have room to turn around. One billion people in this country and they’ve all decided to live alongside the train tracks.

I wonder if tempers don’t flair easily, living so much together, with so few comforts. Bathroom facilities are obviously in short supply, improvisation is required.
It’s easy to be moved to compassion when the pain is so obvious and the degradation to the human spirit so flagrant. Only a heart of stone would be unmoved by the sight of children playing and laughing beside open dark water.

It reminded me of White Marsh Mall in northern Baltimore, bastion of suburbia, just like a thousand other U.S. malls. Don’t you see how they’re the same? Broken people. The only difference is camouflage. Camouflage is the ability to disguise what you really look like, to blend in visually with your surroundings. White Marsh Mall’s camo is cars and money and the sweet smell of “success.” But if you train your eyes to see beyond the camo, you can see the broken pieces of shattered and disillusioned spirits. Too-full bellies; too-little hope.

Thad went through a stage when he was about 8 where he wore camo a lot. When he put it on we’d pretend like he’d disappeared and we’d ask each other, “have you seen Thaddeus?” And he’d get a bemused grin, wanting to believe he had disappeared.

Some of our friends and neighbors are wearing camo. Maybe we’ve been humoring them too long; tacitly agreeing with them that we can’t see their true condition – starved for healing and meaning, their souls splashing in black water. Only a heart of stone…

The train to Delhi, the drive to the mall; same thing once you see beyond the camo. I don’t mean to belittle the tragedy of human suffering, but neither do I accept the arrogant conclusion that our inherited wealth has somehow healed us. Only Jesus can do that.

David Roller

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