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During March 2008, Fr Robin visited the Diocese of Recife in Brazil on behalf of the parish. You can read of his experiences in his diary. Last posting: 13 March 2008. Fr Robin is now safely back in London.
Thursday 13 March Recife Airport is without doubt a world-class airport. The architecture is inspiring and the shops sell a wide range of local crafts. As I stand in the cavernous entrance hall with Dom Sebastiao and Rosario, it seems a fitting place to end my momentous trip. On the plane, the Cabin Steward brings me the Financial Times and a large scotch. Dinner is Boeuf Bourguignon. I really should do this more often. Dom Sebastiao is, I have discovered, a very humble man. The short-sleeved, open-necked shirt and rubber flip-flops which he often wears give no hint of his identity or the dignity of his office. He frequently holds doors open and insists I walk ahead of him, and today as he accompanies me to the airport for a final goodbye, he grasps the handle of my bulging suitcase and wheels it along. In spite of his clear sense of tradition, he has a reputation of being suspicious of ecclesiastical pomp and clerical power. He is the classic "man of few words", but what he does say invariably has value. Looking back at the programme for my trip, I can see how much thought and careful planning went into it. It was very balanced, giving me time for rest, relaxation and socialising, and the work sessions were very focussed and highly productive. I tell him this and he is clearly pleased. Our meeting sketches out a simple action plan for the project, with a number of basic initiatives which we can use to build on as we go along, and he asks me to do a report on my trip and a brief paragraph about the project for the forthcoming Diocesan Synod. I'm back home now and sitting at my desk, which has a strange feel about it, because everything that happened is still buzzing inside me. This seems the appropriate occasion to say thanks to you all for your support and encouragement and for making this trip possible. We are now linked, within the fellowship of the One, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic Church, with an Anglican diocese in another part of the world and with communities of Christians who live the Faith and share the Gospel in the context of a different society and a different culture. And one thing which really impressed itself upon me while I was there was this - we need each other. We have gifts and skills and experience and insights which will enrich us all if we can only find effective ways of sharing them. This is far from being paternalistic charity work. Our equality in the sight of God is the starting point. And it's about taking this opportunity that God has given us to explore what it really means to be the world-wide Anglican Church. The contents of my suitcase is now scattered across the floor of our bedroom. Time for a shower, I think, as I haven't had one since yesterday morning. I've just found the dvd with the photos on it, so I plan to forward these to Fr Jeremy for posting on our site. That is, after I've had a second mug of good English tea. I'm looking forward so much to another Holy Week and Easter with you. With love and prayers, this is Fr Robin signing off. Wednesday 12 March You may find this hard to believe, but I've done it. I'm not even sure how I did it myself. I mean I've managed to close the suitcase. The question of why the same amount of stuff that comes out of a case never quite goes back in is one that has exercised the greatest minds in the history of the world, and as far as I know none of them has yet come up with an answer. It's my last day and I have very mixed emotions. To be back with my family and my church will be wonderful, of course. But in the last few days I have made the kind of real and deep friendships which I wouldn't have thought it possible to make in such a short time. To say that tearing myself away will be difficult would be the understatement of the year.
I didn't tell you about Goyo, did I? Goyo is a dog (I think). He's tiny and looks like a duster with legs. He looks up at you appealingly and barks loudly if he thinks no-one's paying him any attention. And he takes full advantage of the fact that everyone walks around barefoot and uses his fringe to tickle them unmercifully.
This my last blog from Brazil. I'll do one to round things off when I get back to London. I've really enjoyed doing them and it's been a thrill as I tap the keys late at night or early in the morning to think that my friends at home will be reading what I type. I had breakfast with Rosario after she'd taken Guta to school. Deborah's still asleep. Tony is on business in São Pãolo and left on Sunday night, which unfortunately means I've only seen him for a few minutes since I got here. Rosario's just dropped in to give me her business card. I've now been given so many cards I'm thinking of starting a framed collection. Check the time. 9.30. Dom Sebastião is picking me up at 11 and we're having lunch followed by a business meeting at his flat.
As I looked at Recife yesterday from the front seat of Ilcelia's car, I wondered how best to describe it. I've been taking in images of dusty streets and dilapitated buildings buzzing with human life and human activity. Brazilians are seriously into enterprise and everywhere there are stalls and booths selling the basic necessities of life - which for them includes such things as sugar cane and coconuts - and concrete walls are covered with large colourful lettering advertising whatever commodity or service that particular business is offering. Whenever your car stops, someone will appear to wash the windscreen or help you find a parking place in return for a financial contribution. And horns are used without restraint. Driving in London is going to be boring by comparison. Out in the country, I've driven for hours through landscapes dotted with the same square concrete buildings, occasionally getting a view of the city from a distance, its skyline bristling with skyscrapers.
Several times when I've been explaining the project to an audience or congregation, I've used the image of soil being prepared and seed planted, even though it's not yet clear what the plant will be like. And that's the way I see it. As I look back over the last few days, the events I've taken part in and the people I've met, I have an overwhelming sense of the energy my visit seems to have generated. We are long, long past the point where the project might have been abandoned. Now it has a life of its own and I'm absolutely convinced that the link between CHS and the Anglican Diocese of Recife will yield a bumper harvest. My meeting with the Bishop this afternoon will, I imagine, put just a few details in place and sketch things out in broad outline. When I get back, I plan to spend a few days taking stock of my trip and all the ideas and enthusiasm that have been going around.
Time to sign off, I guess, and check I've got everything. I still find these electronic air tickets really confusing. They always arrive accompanied by reams of paper and it's never immediately clear which bits you're supposed to keep. If you're not careful you end up making your shopping list on the very sheet of paper that was meant to get you halfway round the world. Better look at them once more, just to make sure. Incidentally, I always love the looks I get at passport control - my photo shows me in a clerical collar! (Say no more).
"The earth is the Lord's and all that is in it" Psalm 24
See you soon.
Tuesday 11 March This early morning blogging could catch on. I might just find I've started a fashion. We've got a day at the beach today and I'm waiting for Fr Richard and one of my drivers (not sure which one) to pick me up. Tomorrow I head home. It will be great, of course, but there's so much I'm going to miss and so many people who'll be in my heart. I've been handing out loads of cards with my contact details. If they all turn up at CHS we'll have to build an extension. And my house is going to be like a hotel - fully booked for months ahead. I have breakfast in the kitchen with Rosario and Deborah and we compare travel notes. Bete has made a cake specially for me and they're embarrassed to admit they got to it first, so there's only two thirds of it left. But I try it and it's absolutely delicious.
I'm gradually learning the Brazilian social etiquette that governs meeting people. When you meet someone for the first time (i.e. they're a complete stranger) you fling both arms around them and kiss them, preferably twice, one on each cheek, or even a third if you think the first two weren't good enough. The whole process is repeated when you take your leave, even if it's only 2 or 3 minutes later. If you're standing more than 6 feet apart, you blow kisses - that is if they don't launch themselves at you from a distance, which has happened to me a couple of times. And if they don't see you for 48 hours, then you get an extra long hug and you're told how much they missed you. It's enough to put an Englishman into emotional overload.
The noisy air conditioning unit in my room is working overtime and my T-shirt's sticking to the Ambre Solaire I've been spreading all over myself. No doubt I will have fond memories of the experience when I shake the rain off my umbrella and get on the Victoria line at Stockwell. Check the shoulder bag again and don't forget the towel. Wallet, dark glasses, camera, paperback of Cuban short stories to read - you know the drill. Now what's happened to Fr Richard? He's supposed to be here at 9 and it's 9.30. But then Recife is as bad as London for traffic congestion, so I'm not really surprised.
We head for Cabo (pronounced kah-boo) and as we approach the town, I catch sight of a hill covered with square concrete buildings painted in a riot of pastel colours, each one as individual as the people who live in them. Driving through uneven, dusty streets, we arrive at what would be called a "storefront church" in the US (I think that's what they call them). Anyway, this rented shop has been turned into a small and intimate place of worship, led by a Diocesan Lay Worker called Ilma. She explains the church's work to us and how they struggle with the lack of resources. Then the other women present say what their church means to them and one sheds tears as she talks about her husband who died last year and who loved her and respected her and was alcoholic, and her son who has recently kicked a drugs habit. I use the lavatory to find it doubles up as the sacristy with vestments hanging on a nail on the wall. I sometimes think that after this trip the word "church" will never mean the same again.
We hit the beach and settle down at shaded tables. No, the beach is not littered with bikini-clad Brazilian beauties. That's only in the holiday brochures and in any case the Brazilians object to that kind of image of their country being promoted because it encourages exploitation. What I do see are some very interesting goings-on down at the water's edge. Investigating, I find young men going out in pairs into the sea carrying what are obviously mosquito nets and returning a few minutes later with their net full of tiny fish, the silver scales shimmering in the sun as the nets are opened and the fish cascade onto the sand. Then it's the turn of the women and small children who scoop the fish up and into plastic bags. I imagine myself standing in my kitchen at home frying large quantities of these little fish in butter and eating them with lemon wedges and a bottle of chilled white wine. That makes me hungry, which is fine because back at the tables lunch is being served.
Later, I find myself in Fr Richard's flat again. He kindly offers me the use of the shower (even the showers in Recife have a view of the city) and I change into clericals for the Eucharist at the Diocesan Seminary. There I meet a whole load of people I've got to know during my stay and they greet me like an old friend. During the mass, I'm invited to give my presentation on the project and Holy Spirit, Clapham. I almost know it by heart now. Fr Richard has suggested I do a question-and-answer this time, so I glance sideways at Dom Sebastião and ask him if it's appropriate. With the usual twinkle in his eye he says "In the Church, we are at home". I'll certainly remember that one. One of the hymns is "Holy, Holy, Holy", words in Portugese, of course, but the tune is the one we all know. So I sing it along with everyone else. My first experience of singing in Portugese. Isaias gives me a dvd with stacks of photos on taken at various stages of my trip, so I plan to take these home with me and get them put on the website. Sorry I couldn't paste them onto the blogs but you'll all see them soon.
It's after 11 and I've just been driven home by the Rector of the Diocesan Seminary, fellow passengers the Seminary Chaplain and the Bishop of Recife. I do make a point of keeping only the best company. I've switched the air-conditioning on and it's still noisy. Deborah is bashing the computer in her room and we briefly chat about our respective days as I pass the door. Bete is stretched out on the floor in the lounge watching television. Bed is beginning to seem a plausible option.
"I will bless the Lord who gives me counsel, who even at night directs my heart" Psalm 16.
Goodnight all.
Fr Robin
Monday 10 March If you're old enough, you may remember that song Frank Sinatra used to sing, "Brazil", with the line "return I will to old Brazil". My sentiments entirely. Anyway, it's morning. Giselle isn't picking me up till midday so time for a quick blog. Exploring the kitchen last night in search of drinking water (you can't drink the stuff from the tap), I met Bete the live-in housekeeper. I've also met Tony and Rosario's daughters, Guta (13) and Deborah (21), both beautiful, charming and loads of fun. Today I visit some local projects (sorry, that's all the detail the programme gives, will have to fill you in later). Bete has just appeared in the doorway and smiled her lovely broad smile and fired off a load of sentences in Brazilian . I think she must have been telling me she's in the kitchen and I'm to call if I need anything.
The social divide in Brazil is really pronounced. That's not meant to sound judgemental, heaven knows UK has its inequalities and injustices. But it's just that here the whole social thing is much more in-your-face. Middle class people (and their English guests) move from air-conditioned flat to air-conditioned car to church to restaurant to shopping mall, and if you suggest walking in the street around their tower blocks, they'll probably tell you it's not safe to do so. Right by where I'm staying there are apparently two favelas and those who live in this makeshift accommodation will be making their living as best they can, possibly working for those who live in the tower blocks. I ask Tony why the government doesn't demolish the favelas and quickly build some prefabricated homes with at least some amenities. He says it's a good idea but impractical for a number of reasons. I guess it's not for foreigners to interfere, whether the country's Brazil or Iraq.
I really must repack my case, it's a mess. Dom Sebastião was very amused last night at the cathedral as I dug deep into my luggage in search of a pair of black shoes to put on for the service. He said I was a man of the desert, always on the move. I'm looking now at the pile of dirty laundry I've left on the floor and wondering whether if I leave it there for long enough Bete will wash and iron it for me. This trip is definitely making me lazy.
Have you heard me on the radio yet? I tried a moment ago without success. Following the link I gave you onto the website is OK but it's difficult to see what you do from there if you don't read Portugese. I may get Deborah (who is almost fluent in English) to help me later, then maybe I can send you all some further instructions if you need them. Radio Cultura is situated on top of a hill and looks out over Caruaru. The broadcasting equipment is really old and basic, but it's a popular and much appreciated local service and as we left a politician was arriving to do a phone-in. Must do that suitcase. See you later.
Over lunch I meet the Rev'd Arnulfo Barbosa, a Presbyterian minister and Director of Diaconia, an organisation set up in 1967 by the Evangelical churches of Brazil and working with society's excluded. The northeast region is its area of focus, because the northeast is where 40% of the excluded population of Brazil live. After lunch, I get taken to the organisation's HQ. It's an impressive building with good facilities and I learn that they have a very broad base of financial support which includes funding from some of the European churches. Their range of work includes the Family Agriculture Aid Programme which targets rural areas and teaches such practical skills as the efficient collection of rainwater using purpose-built cisterns. And I discover that Fr Sergio, who works there and hosts our visit, is also Dean of the Cathedral. I`m particularly pleased to meet so many clergy who do other jobs as well, as I feel it's a real affirmation of my own ministry. I`ve been here 8 days now and I`m really in love with this country and its people. I have drawn up a list of practical things to do to carry the project forward and I can't wait to get into them. It's obvious to me that I'll have to learn Portugese if I'm going to direct this project effectively (who was that laughing?).
Quick change of location - Fr Richard's flat with yet another incredible view of Recife and its skyscrapers. And thanks to the loan of his laptop, I can sign in and carry on blogging. Just time for some good English tea before we're off again. An evening has been arranged for me at Ilcelia's flat. Apart from being one of my drivers, she's also the head of an organisation that does educational work around AIDS-related issues in Pernambuco (that's the state of which Recife is the state capital). Since 1995, they've been focussing on work with deaf people, who are at risk of missing out on AIDS information, because so much of it assumes that people can hear. They ask me what the AIDS-education scene in UK is like and I tell them I knew a lot more about it in the days when I worked in the Youth Service, but not so much now, and that public awareness in Britain is probably lower than it was 20 years ago, as so many people think it's less of a threat than it was. Then it's time for more Brazilian food. (You may find it hard to believe, but I've actually lost weight on this trip. I know because I keep having to tighten my belt by one hole. Thought you might be interested.)
I'm home. No, Bete didn't do my laundry, but she did pick it up off the floor. Is it really midnight?
As one of the Compline prayers in my Daily Office book says, may we sleep in peace and rise in joy.
Fr Robin
Sunday 9 March I must remember to reset that alarm when I get back to England or I'll spend the rest of my life getting up at 5.30am. After a shower, I spray myself with mosquito repellent. It smells so vile I'm sure it would repel just about anything and anybody, never mind the mosquitoes. I explore the house, a long low building with the tiled floors common in Brazil. No-one else is up yet, except Antonio who's busy at his desk. (He's the Bishop's son-in-law by the way. I tend to forget these small important details when I'm blogging late at night) Then a stone staircase leads me up to the roof. There, next to a satellite dish and a line full of washing , I say Morning Prayer and look out over the Brazilian landscape. "In his hands are the corners of the earth, and the heights of the mountains are his too" (Psalm 95).
Did I tell you why I'm up at such an unearthly hour? I'm being interviewed at 7.30am on Radio Cultura for their programme "Anglican Voice". The theme of the programme is sexual equality, following International Women's Day on March 8th. I'm asked about my project and at the end of the programme I say a prayer. If you want to hear it all for yourself, follow this link: www.radioculturadonordeste.com.br/
The Parish Eucharist in the Church of the Reconciliation is at 10am and it's genuinely hard to describe it in a short space. Afterwards I joke with the Bishop that even an in-formal service at CHS is more formal than this one was. At one point and for no apparent reason, the congregation strikes up a conversation with the Bishop. There are no what I would call hymns, only choruses, and the people sway and hold their hands in the air. Antonio reads the gospel, the Raising of Lazarus, and is overcome by emotion and bursts into tears as he reads the sacred words. The peace is given and everyone hugs and kisses everyone else in the church. At the Lord's Prayer, we all form a gigantic circle by holding hands. I'm beginning to think I should have left my English formality at the airport. But having said that, there is great respect for tradition. Antonio asks blessing from the President before he reads the gospel. The Sacrament is treated with the customary Anglican reverence. And the different ministries of the People of God are celebrated at this Eucharist. A girl, Maria Caroline, is admitted to the office of acolyte and given a candle and a jug of water and vested with a surplice. And the two young men whose electric guitars have provided the music are given badges in the shape of treble clefs by the Bishop in recognition of the importance of what they do. What an imaginative use of symbols! As a parting gift, I'm given a tiny and typically Brazilian sculpture depicting a tableau of figures. I thank them, but really no words of thanks are enough.
Undoubtedly this has made me rethink my own attitudes to church music. It's true that some modern hymns are just plain awful, but there well-written choruses and "worship songs" which lift our spirits and are a genuine expression of the Faith.
Anyway, I'll skip the afternoon (unless you want another description of what I had for lunch) and go straight to the Cathedral Eucharist in the evening. Between 80 and 100 people gather in the plain, simple and beautiful building which is the Cathedral of the Holy Trinity of the Anglican Diocese of Recife. More electric guitars, more worship songs and a screen hanging from the ceiling so everyone can follow the words. Formality noticeable by its complete absence. This could get a habit. And once again I'm expected to talk about my home church, the project and the reason for my visit. I'm beginning to feel like Billy Graham.
Now for the big moment, the presentation of that wonderful icon. I talk about how icons are like the creed, a statement of our faith and how icon-painting is an ancient practice in the Church, and that the symbolism of icons rises above any of the Church's sad divisions, so that icons are truly the property of all Christians, not just those of a particular viewpoint. And I pray that as they look upon the face of Christ, they may be drawn to him and that he may bless them in the fellowship of his Church. Dom Sebastião is clearly pleased with what I said. Then the service is over and everyone thanks me for being there. More hugs and kisses.
I'm now at the home of my new hosts Tony and Rosario, a flat on the 6th floor of a tower block. Earlier on, we got know each other over pizzas and a bottle of excellent red Brazilian wine in a restaurant. Like everyone I've met, they can't seem to do enough for me. My comfortable room is ready and Rosario has shown me the fridge and told me I'm welcome to raid it any hour of the day or night. (You must be joking. I couldn't eat another thing.)
It's after 11pm, I'm really hot and a cold shower seems like a great idea.
May the Lord watch over you.
Fr Robin
Saturday 8 March –
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Have I gone mad or what? That's my alarm going off and it's only 5.30am. Then I remember Dom Sebastião and his wife Madalena are picking me up at 7. Quick shower, quick breakfast, quick everything. 7am comes and I'm ready. Luiz Sergio and Rosa aren't awake yet, but I'll see them at the cathedral on Sunday. I say goodbye to Neves and thank her for everything she's done for me and all her kindness. Times like this I really wish I could speak Portugese.
We head out of Recife and inland and soon the countryside changes to dry, rolling hills. This looks more like the Brazil of the Hollywood movies. On the way we see a community of those known as the "landless" and they've built homes for themselves on a patch of waste ground, without sanitation, using any materials that happen to be available. One of the structures is just a framework of tree branches tied together. I get just a glimpse of it all as we speed by. Real poverty, but at a safe distance.
We reach Salgadinho, a spa town where the water is said to have beneficial properties. After taking a hotel room just for the day, we change and spend a pleasant couple of hours in the swimming pool. Dom Sebastião orders drinks (ice-cold beer for me - what else in this climate?), then a delicious concoction of Brazilian cheese, grilled with herbs and things. So what do we do next, Dom Sebastião? Answer: We have lunch. (I thought that was lunch). Back to the hotel for a buffet of just about everything that's going in Brazilian cuisine. And more ice-cold beer. After lunch, we find it's been raining! Now that really was the last thing I was expecting. I stand out in the street enjoying the fragrance of the rain on the dry ground. A goat and her kid wander up the street. No-one but me takes any notice.
On to Caruaru, a large town further inland, and the Parish of the Reconciliation, where we're going to spend the night. And you've probably worked out that I've found a PC with Internet access, courtesy of Antonio, our host. The parish has an open-air church, so can't wait to try it out for worship tomorrow morning. It's another early start, so you won't mind if I sign off, will you?
Thinking of you all and looking forward to coming home (even if it is going great!)
Fr Robin
Friday 7 March –
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I really must start getting to bed earlier. The combination of tropical heat and busy days are beginning to take their toll. Still, if youre going to be tired, this sure is the place to do it. This evening I'm off to meet the Salvation Army (What was that I heard Alan Mundy say?)
Like I said last night, I feel the project is going well. But I have to say that as I've been talking to people, I've sensed a level of curiosity and perhaps even suspicion as to why I'm here and what I'm planning to do. One of the diocesan priests used the word "imperialism", another said it was vitally important to establish equality in our relationship. However, I must reiterate this was all in the context of real enthusiasm and genuine interest.
We've heard a lot in recent years about "Liberation Theology", and in comfortable England we often talk about it as if it were something additional and even optional to the Faith. One thing I'm beginning to realise since I've been out here is that for the Anglican Church of Brazil, there is no such thing as theology which is not about liberation. This is something we at CHS will all have to take on board as our friendship with the Diocese of Recife grows. Partnership, companionship, sharing, communication - these are the words I was hearing, and using, again and again with my fellow-priests. These are our points of reference, these form the creed on which this project will be based. If I can manage to give all of you even one tenth of the excitement I feel about this work, then I will be more than happy. Anyway, it's time to pack the shoulder bag. Mosquito repellent, clerical collar - what better protection for body and soul?
Change of plans. Fr Richard's just rung, Ilcelia's been held up at home, some kind of maintenance work going on in the tower block where she lives, can't pick me up till 2pm. So back to the balcony to write up notes from yesterday. Neves now has to get me lunch at short notice, which she does with her beautiful smile and absolutely no fuss. Expecting the Brazilian equivalent of beans-on-toast, I sit down to pasta bolognese with melted cheese topping, water melon and out-of-this-world chocolate ice cream. I'm already saving up for my next trip here.
We drive out of the city and into a thickly wooded area, having acquired Jo da Silva, Treasurer of the Anglican Seminary, on the way, and spend an hour or so in a museum of the work of the sculptor Francisco Brennand. The building is a former tile works which he transformed himself and now it's full of his imaginative, funny and sometimes nightmarish sculptures and paintings, which show influences from surrealism, classical paganism and catholicism - with just a hint of Beryl Cook.
We drive back into the city as dusk falls. I have very mixed feelings when I see men sorting through piles of rubbish and loading their haul onto a handcart. I think recycling is great and I often rummage in skips myself - but in my case it's to support my DIY hobby, not to scratch a living because that's all there is to do.
Tonight it's the World Day of Prayer, and arriving at the Salvation Army building we mark this important event in the life of the Universal Church by - well, praying. A number of churches are represented and at the end any ministers present are invited to come to the front and bless the people. We do and immediately I recognise someone who embraces me warmly. He was my interpreter last night when I gave my presentation to the clergy. He is Major Maruilson and a Salvation Army officer and I learn he has recently been appointed Director of Studies at the Anglican Seminary! Now that's what I call ecumenism!
Don't worry if things are quiet on the Brazilan front for a day or two. Tomorrow morning I meet the Bishop to see two more of the parishes and this involves a stopover somewhere or other and I can't guarantee internet access. But I'm working on the photo thing. Isaias, who is one of the leaders of the Mission to Freedom community, was flashing a posh-looking digital camera around tonight and I asked him to email me some of his pics.
The end of another day and I have to pack. The Lord bless your homes and all who live in them. Sleep well.
Fr Robin
Thursday 6 March –
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I'm supposed to be having a morning off, but it's quite impossible to disengage from the amazing things going on around me. My head is still full of what happened last night at the Church of the Good News and the way that empty building with its bare concrete floor suddenly filled with joyful, worshipping people and came to life. "Church" in every sense of that word.
In my tired state last night, I forgot to mention a young man I met, Linaldo, who lives with a challenging disability that restricts his movement and is cared for by his sister, a single parent with 3 children, all living in a very small and basic Brazilian house. Linaldo talked about how he has been able to witness to Christ through his membership of CGN and how he campaigns for the rights of disabled people and for their full integration into the life of the Church. He shows me a plaque he was awarded for his work. Then he aks me for the laying-on of hands and my priestly blessing, and as I say the words, suddenly the limitations of language seem to disappear. I've never had such an overwhelming sense of what a privilege the priesthood is.
After a shower and a generous coating of Ambre Solaire,I reckon I'm about ready for the day. It was actually cloudy when I woke up, I didn't think they had clouds in Brazil. Neves, the housekeeper - who doesn't speak a word of English but whose eyes say everything that needs to be said - cooks my breakfast as usual, scrambled eggs just the way I like them. Then she presents me with the shirts, socks and underwear I left in a crumpled heap on the floor, now immaculately washed and ironed. I reckon heaven must be like this. My driver, Ilcelia, has just called to say she's going to be late, so I now have time to do this and then get back to that article about Russia in the Economist that I was enjoying. More later.
It's nearly 10.30pm and the lovely Giselle who picked me up from the airport has just driven me home. Following a lunch of fish and Brazilian beer, I have spent most of the day in Olinda, a very old and beautiful town just along the coast, accompanied by Dom Filadelfo, the Suffragan Bishop of Recife, who joined our party. We visit Franciscan and Benedictine monasteries and shop in the craft shops, then find a restaurant looking out to sea where we have dinner and watch the twinkling lights of Recife in the distance as it slowly gets dark.
Then it was off to the cathedral for my presentation to the diocesan clergy. By now, my shirt looks like a squeezed-out dishcloth, so a good excuse to dive into the mens toilet and change it for a clerical shirt, cunningly concealed in my shoulder bag. (I feel a bit like Clark Kent changing to Superman in a phone box).
I talk to the clergy about CHS and our project and how it all came about, and afterwards they ask me some penetrating questions. Just glad I prepared for it thoroughly. By the end it's clear they are with me and it looks like we're ready to move forward together. I suggest a number of practical things we could do, like draw up a monthly prayer calendar and keep each other informed of what we're doing, especially any new initiatives. And I express the hope that a group can soon come over to London and stay with us. Then we all have our photograph taken in good Anglican fashion ... and that's it, really.
May the Lord make his face to shine upon you, as St Francis would say.
Fr Robin
Wednesday 5 March –
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Good Morning CHS!
Do you know, I never thought I'd be pleased to find the shower was running cold, but in Brazil it's not a bad idea. Fortunately remembered to leave the air conditioning on in my room, so it's cool when I dress. Must remember to switch it off when I go out. Breakfast in the kitchen looking out over the city. I'm gonna miss that view so much. Coffee here is great, as you might expect - even the instant kind! My driver's coming soon, so I'll have to leave this till tonight. See y'all, as George W.Bush would say.
It's 10.20pm and I'm exhausted after an amazing day. We headed out to the western edge of Recife to spend the morning with the Community of the Mission of Freedom, which sounds like monks and nuns but in fact is what we'd call a "church plant", a small group of Christians who've set up in an ordinary house and now work at being the Church in that neighbourhood - with some success it seems, as a number of young people are associated with the community. Starting at the house, we walk through dry, dusty streets with sewage pollution at intervals, drop into a school, then climb a steep flight of steps up the side of a hill and finally settle in the shade of a circle of trees, where the young people talk about their experience of belonging to the Church. A delicious lunch is served, home-cooked by someone who lives nearby and I make a sticky mess of myself trying to eat a mango.
Then it's off to Caaporã and the Parish of the Good News, where as some of you may remember this project started. It's a thrill to find myself standing in the still unfinished church, which I've only seen in photographs up till now. Along with Fr Cezar Romero, the parish priest (who's actually a priest-worker, like me) Fr Richard and I lead a Lenten act of worship with hand-washing, anointing and spontaneous (out of control, even!) singing, followed by a dance presentation put on by some young people in honour of their English visitor. Then more wonderful food - just wish I could cook Portugese style.
I spent some time today with Fr Richard discussing the link and what it might mean in practice. We didn't make any final decisions, of course, but I feel the whole thing is bursting with possibilities.
I'm still working on getting some photos to slip into my blogs, but the only camera I have with me is the one CHS gave me, which I'm so attached to because it's been everywhere with me and takes really sharp pictures - but it's not digital. Richard has one, I think, so might get him to help out. Time for another shower now, it was really hot today.
Goodnight from Brazil.
Fr Robin Tuesday 4 March --
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Hi Everyone!
Things are moving. Today I met one of my most important contacts, the Rev'd Dr Richard Firmer, who's over from England for 3 years, and sitting over ice-cold fruit juice in a cafe on the edge of a park, we brief each other on what this project is all about and I learn a lot about the Diocese of Recife in the process. Then it's off for a walk and a sociological run-down from Fr Richard. The blocks of luxury flats that have sprung up in the last few years are effectively gated communities and those who can afford it aspire to live in them. Others live nearer the ground in vibrant but poor communities. (I know that's a simplification but I haven't got much space). Not surprisingly, the streets round the catholic and state universities are full of students and one road is completely given over to food outlets selling low-cost food. Fr Richard leads me up some steps and suddenly we are in an elegant restaurant, where we are joined by Ilcelia, our driver for the rest of the day. The food is delicious and is sold by weight! - something I've never come across before.
The drive round the old town is an experience, but saddening when you see the state of the old buildings. Unlike England, lovely old buildings have little market value and have not been kept up. But Recife's former prison will stick in my memory for ever, it's been developed really imaginatively as a shopping centre, with individual cells made into tiny shops that sell local crafts. Great opportunity for buying presents. Then it's back into the old town and busy streets that explode into life as night falls. Everywhere there are markets and roadside stalls. It's like everyone wants to sell you something, from fresh sugar cane to second-hand car parts. Quick stop at another cafe for a brazilian speciality - tapioca pancakes filled with coconut and cheese.
In Fr Richard's flat, I enjoy the night-time view over the city once again. Cities at night have always been one of my greatest loves. Just time for a mug of tea (how very English!) before we go out to sample the night-life. I feel so excited about this work. I can already see it holds all kinds of possibilities. Must go, I'll have more to tell you soon.
Love and prayers, Fr Robin.
Monday 3 March – You can e-mail Robin at
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Hi CHS!
I've arrived! But let me tell you a bit about the journey. First stage, taxi driven by Dave - nice guy who told me down to the smallest detail everything he'd done in the last 40 years. And what better place to start your trip than that temple of consumer-capitalism otherwise known as Heathrow Terminal 2? So, I figured, why not scoot round one of the designer-label shops? And of course I can't resist the temptation to impress the young woman by making her think I want to buy something really expensive. The trick is to ask for something you know they haven't got. Works every time. Next, a 3-mile trek in search of the gate my flight's rumoured to be boarding from.
I love the surge when you take off. It's dark now and below us lines of car headlights wind their way across the landscape like gigantic jewelled serpents. Why's everyone reading magazines - even those with window-seats? Don't they realise what a fantastic view they're missing? Great! Food's arriving! The hot chicken sandwich and ice-cold beer sure taste good. Time for Evening Prayer, so rummage in the flight bag for my Daily Office book (travelling version).
Late at night when the streets are empty is not the best time to see Lisbon, but I'm grateful for the comfortable hotel and breakfast the next morning. Off to the airport again in a taxi (this driver doesn't say anything). Recife is only 7.5 hours away, I'm relieved to discover. I'm met by Bishop Sebastiao (surprised we recognised each other after nearly 2 years) and the delightful Giselle, a Diocesan Lay Worker. I'm staying at the flat of Luiz and Rosa and their son Pedro, which turns out to be in one of the tower blocks you see as you fly in. The surrounding buildings at night, with their illuminated windows, sparkle in the darkness and the view is out of this world. In fact, I couldn't begin to describe it, so maybe I'll just sing the Gloria to myself, even though it's Lent.
Bless you all, miss you and thinking of you. Fr Robin, International Blogger
Saturday 1 March 2008 Well, it’s here at last. Seems like I’ve spent forever planning for it. Time to pack. Never my favourite activity. What’s appropriate for a country like Brazil? My Yves Saint Laurent polo shirt could look like I was showing off (even if I did get it from a charity shop). And of course don’t forget the clerical shirts. Do you know what a priest’s worst nightmare is? You’ve packed the shirts but not the collars. And incidentally, how do you fold a baseball cap? (No, don’t suggest I wear it on the flight!) Stuff to read – thick paperback of Hemingway’s dispatches from 1920’s, book of Eastern Orthodox Theology, this week’s Economist, plus whatever’s going free on the plane. Should keep me occupied. Ready or not, here I come! Quite apart from the excitement of going to a new place, this trip and the project that goes with it seem like the most tremendous privilege. To represent the people of CHS, to carry their good wishes and prayers to a distant part of the Church and to be given the opportunity to build up a new initiative with unimagined possibilities – this is so much more than I could ever have hoped for. But I have to say it’s no greater privilege than the one I have every Sunday when I join in worship with you all. I’m told my itinerary is at this very moment winging its electronic way to me. My good friend Fr Joabe Cavalcanti told me I should think of myself as Abraham, going off into the unknown. OK, that’s cool. As long as the camel’s business class. And I think I might do without the flocks and herds. Better to travel light. I look forward to sending you my next blog and I hope there’ll be some photos to go with it. Love and prayers Fr Robin |
