This is a picture of where I got my stitches taken out.  (Oh, I had to get stitches a few months ago- two, in my right knee, to be exact.)

Anyway, this is where the doctor took out my stitches.  It’s a very open room, and did you notice those glass doors looking right onto the street?  It’s this cool medical theory they have here- patients should have a visual reminder of the outside world during doctor’s visits so that they remember, when all’s said and done, they’re going to re-enter into society.  So, while I waited to be free of my stitches, I watched others walk around, care-free.

No, I’m kidding.  This isn’t a doctor’s office, and I just pulled that theory out of nowhere.  It’s actually the foyer of my building…which is also the Lutheran church…and a dental office. 

But, part of that was true- a doctor really did take my stitches out in that foyer.  And I want to use this as an example of the sanitation of our culture.

…the “sanitation of culture” is kind of a loaded, anthropology-ish sounding phrase.  Rightly so, as the only time I’ve heard the phrase “sanitation of culture” in real life was in an anthropology seminar…but I still want to use it to talk about some stuff I’ve been sorting out.

I got my stitches taken out in my home, by a doctor I happen to know through my church.  She came to the building where I live to open the doors for the Alcoholics Anonymous group that meets here a couple days a week, and then suggested we take advantage of her presence by taking out my sutures.  So, in between greeting people, she removed the tiny threads from my healed wound (in a totally hygienic and safe manner- Mom, Dad, Heidi).   And then we both continued on with our days.

I guess that’s not too crazy, my accident prone younger brother informed me I could have just taken the stitches out myself, like he does…that seemed a little too un-sanitized.

Anyway though, back to what I wanted to say about that sanitation stuff.  I feel like back home (the U.S.), we have this need to categorize and to arrange in neat corners of our brain what goes where.  We have vacation time, down time, family time, etc.  And I can’t help but feel that this is true of religion as well.  For one, we often want to keep our church-ness to Sundays.  And for another, we want to keep those Sundays, well, clean.  We dress up, we smile nicely, we pretend we don’t swear or speak badly of things. 

But then, if we look at the stories, there’s just no way Jesus was that clean.  He was walking around barefoot, vulnerable to the hospitality of others.  I’m currently reading Life of Pi, and the narrator describes Jesus in this way;

          “This Son is a god who walked, a pedestrian god- and in a hot place, at that- with a stride like any   human stride, the sandal reaching just above the rocks along the way, and when He splurged on transportation, it was a regular donkey (p.56).”

Guys, I think Jesus was kind of a dirty hippie.

No, I am not suggesting that we all stop showering and mimic the actual hygiene practices of this time period.  Metaphorically, I’m trying to figure out why religion is so compartmentalized in our lives, and why it’s hard to let all parts of our lives flow together freely. It extends beyond religion- I think it is often a challenge for us to find continuity between whom and how we are at work, how we are at home, with friends, in new situations, etc.

As I think about being the second half of my year in Uruguay, I have started to reflect on how I will carry this experience home. What do I have to expect when I get back, what will I be able to bring home, how will I make sure that I don’t file away the experiences I’ve had here, in Uruguay, as only relevant to now?

I feel like I’m putting a lot of questions and thoughts together in this blog, but I like this image of my foyer/ doctor’s office as a sounding board and I wanted to share it.  I simultaneously was in my home, at the doctor, with a friend, opening the doors for an AA meeting and watching all walks of life go by outside.  And I like wrestling with the duality of these faces of religion as I know it- the crispness of a Sunday morning, and the image of the Son of God as a common person, walking down the street next to you.

I’m just questioning how to let it all flow together.