Cork

This piece is about the tree, not the city, (though that might be worth visiting again sometime). Its about an unprepossessing lump of bark.

Now, I would not be a cork farmer for anything. It would seem to me to require the patience of Job. When you plant a cork tree for the first time, apparently, you have to wait 40 years, yes that’s 40 years, for your first harvest. And then you can only harvest the cork bark after that every 9 years.
In Portugal from Lisbon south to the Algarve the countryside is dotted with these gnarled old oaks. In fact Portugal produces 50 % of the world’s cork. And I’ve read that some can live to be 500 years old. Hey, that means than some of these might have felt the ground shudder in the great Lisbon earthquake of 1755!!

Last Saturday we were out on a farm in the Alentejo, about an hour and a half drive east of Lisbon. Jan and Elisabeth Anema are Dutch and had sold their farm in Holland and moved here some twenty years ago because they felt God telling them to do so. They believe that being a Cristian is not just about preaching and reading the Bible. It should invade your whole life and affect all that you are and do. They combine dairy farming with pastoral counselling (Elisabeth is a trained counsellor) and a range of social and educational activities You can read more about all that they are involved in by clicking on http://www.anema.com.pt/root_ing.htm

It was our first weekend away from Lisbon, and the peace of the rural environment was so refreshing. But it was the cork trees that gripped my imagination. They were dotted all over Jan’s land, and the cork bark had just been harvested. Wonderfully gnarled old trees all bearing the scars of their bark being stripped away. The deep orange of the denuded trunks stood out in marked contrast to the rest of the landscape. Now they’ve nine more years to recover their skins and build up another thick layer of springy cork to pop into your champagne bottles ( and provide for a whole lot of other uses you probably never dreamed of – think clarinets and fishing rods for a start)

Anyway if farming is about watching and waiting and hoping and exercising patience, then cork farming probably demonstrates the end of the road as far as those particular virtues go. And a lot of life is like that. James says that perserverance has to finish its work for you to be mature complete, not lacking in anything *. If Jan tries to harvest his cork trees again next November, he’ll get nothing. If the cake doesn’t stay in the oven the full 45 minutes, it will flop. And I know that in so much of my life, when I want things to move a long a little faster, that God has his own timing. It simply won't work if I try to rush things. It never has in the past. I just need to learn to wait.

* James 1:4

Heron

The Heron waits

................In the early morning light, the heron perches

.................................At the right time, he won’t miss his prey

.......................................................His beak will make it’s mark

...................................................................................His family will be fed

.........................................................................................................But for now he waits

And I wait

..................In the morning light with scurrying clouds

..................................As the first rains of winter refresh the city

......................................................Repaint the sky with a new translucence

......................................................................................And I wait

......................................................................................................What will God say to me today?

It's amazing, isn't it, how much of our relationship with God has to do with waiting. Waiting for difficulties to be sorted out, waiting for a relationship to develop, waiting for answers, waiting for breakthroughs, waiting for deliverance. And sometimes just waiting to hear in the silence.

I find that whenever I come down here to the edge of the River Tejo, the word to me always seems to be "wait". Maybe it's because I often see the heron there. Always still. Always silent. Always waiting. So God says. Wait for the appointed time. Wait for what I have in store for you. Wait for me to act. Or in the words of Habbakuk Chap 2.

1 I will stand at my watch
and station myself on the ramparts;
I will look to see what he will say to me,
and how he will answer my complaint.

The LORD's Answer

2 Then the LORD replied:
the revelation awaits an appointed time;
it speaks of the end
and will not prove false.
Though it linger, wait for it;
it will certainly come and will not delay

Learnt a new word in Portuguese this week - "demorar". It kind of means to delay or more correctly "to take time over". You use it to say how long it takes to get from A to B. So maybe it's not quite about being late, or getting behind schedule - it's just whatever time is needed, that's the time it will take. In Habakkuk’s words, “linger” is translated by this word in the Portuguese Bible, so that while it might appear to be taking a lot of time, don’t worry, it will not be one minute later or one minute earlier than God has intended.

And that’s how it is with so much of what he does. We get impatient, we want to move ahead, but when God acts, it’s always at the right time, never a moment too soon never a moment too late. Teach me Lord to have the patience of a heron for all that you have in store for me.

The Magic of Mariza

The Pavilhão Atlântico (Atlantic Pavilion) is the huge Concert Hall situated in the Park of the Nations.

We went there a couple of Thursday evenings ago for a concert by Portugal's world class fado singer, Mariza. (NB If you want to find where it is why don’t you copy and paste “Pavilhão Atlântico, Lisboa” into Google maps and it’s the great big grey blob that looks like a rugby ball.

And while you’re there why not scroll northwards up the road called Alameda dos Oceanos to where the Parque do Tejo is just before you reach the Vasco da Gama Bridge, and that is where our home will be when we move mid December!)

Anyway, back to the Concert. It was absolutely magical. This diminutive figure in her signature black gown strode out on the stage to the sound of the Portuguese guitarra, and the crowd of 12,000 people stilled as she filled the auditorium with her voice, crying out from her heart of love and loss and sadness. Because that is the heartbeat of fado music.

She had just returned from a tour of the US, singing in Carnegie Hall, New York across to Los Angeles, and spoke so emotionally of her joy at being back in her beloved Lisboa. At least, we got the emotion, if not all the words. In fact our enjoyment of the whole evening was undimmed by the fact that our embryonic Portuguese only caught a fraction of the words spoken in introducing the various stars who participated in the concert with her. For us, it was a great introduction to the world of “lusophone” music (Lusophone is a general term given for any Portuguese speaking part of the world) with artist from Portugal, Angola, Brazil and Cape Verde.

A magical evening, and another late Lisbon night, starting this time at 10 pm and finishing by half past midnight. Not sure if we can keep this up.

www.mariza.com
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pHzaIK8fGVg

A Harvest Festival ... with Horses!

Last Saturday we went out to the small town of Golega about 100 km north of Lisbon with two Portuguese friends, to a horse fair.

Maria and Aurea picked us up at after 4 pm and I thought to myself that’s a bit late in the day to be going to a fair. In fact we had no idea what to expect – thought it might be a bit of showjumping, a horse race or two, and a lot of trading going on. As it turned out, it was a huge social occasion with the small town packed out, and riders on horseback dangerously mixing with pedestrians through the narrow streets, and everyone intent on seeing and being seen. The actual event was St Martin's Day which falls on November 11th, and is a kind of harvest celebration, with lots of drinking of "agua-pe" (literally "foot water") the early wine produced just after the gapes have been harvested. Maria was brilliant at explaining all the features of the festival, and it was so good being with Portuguese friends at this.

If you’re looking for an Irish equivalent, think Puck Fair in Killorglin, but minus the goat, and with, in many cases, a more elevated social class. What struck us was the “royal” boxes that were set out around the central square of the town for the families of the horse owners who were obviously well to do aristocrats, (and you’d have to be when some of the grand looking Lusitanian horses strutting around would fetch some €600,000) dressed in traditional costumes and hats.

Apart from the crowd-mingling, people-watching, hot-chestnut-eating (a central part of the evening) we also got to see some pretty fancy footwork with dancing horses and the evening ended (or at least our participation in it did) with a fado performance and we left about half past midnight. The dark night, the musicians, the dust, the constant canter and snorting of the horses, the noise, the laughter, the arguments – it was an amazing, rich, earthy experience to add to our understanding of the Portuguese culture. We got home at 2am, and were teased later for adapting too well to the Portuguese hours.

Anna and Aurea chilling out

The ornate stirrups indicate a Spanish rider

Roasting chestnuts. Mmmmm!

Insomniacs of the World Unite

I'm not a great sleeper at the best of times, and since coming to Portugal, the pattern hasn’t improved that much.

Now everyone’s got their pet solution to sleep problems. Counting sheep is one solution that’s been offered, but that kind of thing begins to pall after a while. I mean, once you’ve seen one sheep…

Or you can try “Noite Tranquile” a potion recommended by our language teacher. It’s a kind of herbal tea available in the local supermarket, but then, after a mug of that, you end up having to run to the toilet a couple of times. Or you can watch the shopping channel for a while, but you have to be pretty desperate to suffer endless demonstrations of contraptions that dry and iron your clothes at the same time.

Well I’ve a new one here that I discovered last night. It’s a kind of new take on praying through the night! Could’t sleep, so at 4am I plugged my ipod in and set it to “shuffle” tracks and just lay there in the dark, hoping I’d get back to sleep. I found that each track that played triggered a memory for me of people and places in a moment in time, and I just spent the time the track was playing praying for that. (**)

U2’s “One” came on, thoughts naturally turned to Ireland and friends in Clonmel, Tramore and Athy. Prayed for Primrose and Dan away from Kosova just now and spending time with friends and family.

Then came Nusrat Kateh Ali Khan’s “Night Songs”, and I was transported in spirit at once to Pakistan and to pray for that troubled nation at this crucial time.

Emiliana Torrini’s “If You go Away” took me somewhat randomly to Brussels and Judith’s tiny flat in Ixelles, and after which I crossed the channel to London with Hillsong’s “Consuming Fire” and praying for Sharon and her friends, Roh, Charlie, Ayesha and Khadra living for God and reflecting Jesus in the capital.

Robin Mark’s “I Stand amazed” and I was taken right over to 1^st Coleraine Presbyterian, just visualising church with Gordy and the group leading worship, before being whisked back to Lisbon and the Park of the Nations with Ana Moura’s “Sou do fado, sou fadista”

Finally Tim Hughes “Everything” from his new album “When Silence falls”, which is my song of the moment (*) and my prayers were for Colin in Southampton as he makes his way through life in 1^st year University

God in my living
God in my Breathing..

God in my hurting
God in my healing

Be my everything
Be my everything

Christ in me
Christ in me
Christ in me

the Hope of Glory Be my everything Be my everything

(*) http://www.wesleyowen.com/WesleyOwenSite/product/Music/SURCD5068.htm

(**) DISCLAIMER : The blogger is not meant to be recommending the above method as a standard practice for people wanting to improve their prayer life. On your knees with an open Bible is much better!!

Light and Dark : Words and Actions

The other night I couldn’t sleep and so went through to the living Room and picked up the "Telecomando"

(I kid you not - that is the word for "remote" in Portuguese - what a colourful language!!)

There was a documentary on Bob Dylan on the local RTP2 TV channel. English programmes are few and far between but when they're on, they’re often useful for keeping an eye on the Portuguese subtitles and figuring out how idiomatic English expressions are carried over into Portuguese. That aside, I found myself fascinated by an interview with a regal looking silver haired Joan Baez. She expressed her disappointment that despite his being more or less the prophet of the whole ‘60’s Protest movement in the USA, Bob Dylan never really aligned himself with that movement, never marched out side by side for civil rights or against the war or wanted that his poetry or music be politicised. It was something she could never really come to terms with. Words and actions for her belonged together.

Now, whether or not one thinks that Dylans poetry and music should stand on its own, for ourselves the reality is that our words must relate to our actions. That’s an absolute. Already, in our first few weeks in Lisbon, in the little bit of relationship building we have been doing, we are aware that our words are being weighed and our lives watched. For many people around us, we may be the only example of true Christian living demonstrated in front of them. We become, as it were, the image of the invisible God. Now that might seem to be a somewhat pompous statement - a bit of verbal overkill. However, in a very real sense that is God’s intention when he places Christians in neighbourhoods and communities – it's his desire that we become THE visible body of Christ in a dark place.


The light in Lisbon is startling. We've had only one overcast wet day the whole of October (unusual weather for the time of year, people say) and, when the sun shines, there's an amazing luminosity about the place. Probably something to do with the whitewashed walls or the shine of the wonderfully patterned cobbled streets and the reflections from the river. But it brings a rich colour to the city. Yet, like any other large urbal sprawl, there are patches of darkness. Many places where the kingdom of light does not reign. It is the job of Christians to bring light into dark places

that we may declare the praises of him who called US out of darkness

into HIS WONDERFUL LIGHT" (1 peter 2:9)