Whether in North Carolina or on the other side of the world, field education opens divinity students to the wonders and the gifts of pastoral ministry

During my field education experience in South Africa last summer, I met a woman named Glenda, who runs a ministry that prepares older women to care for children orphaned by the AIDS epidemic. It’s called “Phakamisa,” a Zulu word that means “to lift up.”

Shrader outside a settlement near Pinetown, South Africa.

The women, called “Gogos,” or “grannies,” receive their training at the church where I served. One day, Glenda invited me to go with her to meet with the Gogos and hear an update on their progress. Meeting them in a beautiful garden at a local school, I sat on the ground next to Glenda and listened as each Gogo told us how her work was going. One Gogo, Gertrude, said she was raising six orphans and had barely enough food to feed them. She was 73 years old.

After introducing me to the women, Glenda asked me to share a few words, so I told them about a South African pastor who had visited my home church many years ago. The pastor had told us about the struggles in South Africa, and ever since, I explained to the women, I and others in my church have prayed for the people of South Africa. I told them how happy I was to be able finally to meet some of the people I have prayed for all these years and to have the opportunity to pray with them in person. Before I left, each Gogo hugged me as if she had known me for years.

The rest of the afternoon, Glenda and I visited with several families that had suffered particularly bad losses and needed additional attention. We listened to their stories and prayed with them. Finally, we prepared to return to the church.

But as we were leaving, Gertrude met us on the road, her arms full of avocados. Smiling, she gave an avocado to Glenda and one to me. Immediately, I wanted to decline the gift, saying “No, I can’t take this. You have children to feed.” Yet, something in her eyes stopped me. I could tell it meant so much to her to give me the avocado. Yet, it was hard for me to receive it.

Since then, I have thought a lot about this avocado. One little fruit can stir up so much emotion. I was shocked that a woman who had so little to feed herself and the children she cared for would offer me food. If it had been something she had made—a bit of cloth or maybe a small pin—I could have accepted it easier. Her gift of the avocado was as extravagant as the whole bottle of perfume that the woman poured on Jesus’ head. It was her extravagance that shocked me.

Before I went to South Africa, a friend suggested to me that he thought I would have a difficult time receiving hospitality from the people there. Defensive and maybe a little annoyed, I dismissed his remark, wondering to myself, “What is he talking about?” But now I realized he was right. It is difficult for me to receive hospitality, especially when it is as extravagant as Gertrude’s. I responded to her the same way the disciples responded to the woman. Like them, I completely missed the point.

Gertrude (standing) and fellow “Gogos,” who care for children orphaned by AIDS, pick green beans in their organic garden.

With her gift of the avocado, Gertrude revealed her deep trust in the abundance of God’s grace. I worried that she would not have enough to feed herself or the children, but she trusted that God would provide. This is the gift that the poor can offer us. This Gogo taught me that I need to learn how to receive hospitality; If I only give, then I am belittling the humanity of the other who is trying to participate in a friendship with me

Thomas Aquinas says that we often enter into relationships with others partly because we want a certain good for them. It is not a bad thing, of course, to want good for another. But Aquinas points out that such a relationship, rather than being a genuine friendship, really fills our own desire to see this certain good happen.

In our relationships with the poor, we often act out of this same desire to see good happen for the other—maybe a job, an education or simply food to eat. Yet, this is not true friendship, according to Aquinas. True friendship is more about the desire to know the person rather than to obtain a certain good for them.

If I had refused Gertrude’s gift, if I had imposed my desires for her upon our friendship, I would not have been her friend. Instead, I would have created a relationship based on the power I have to bring about a certain good in her life, and I would have never understood the good she brought into my life just by knowing her.

I will never look at an avocado again without thinking about Gertrude. As we accept that each of us is a child of God created in God’s likeness, we catch a glimpse of God. This is indeed the real gift and the blessing of the avocado.

Michelle Shrader served a summer placement at Pinetown Methodist Church in Pinetown, S.A., which is near Durban on South Africa’s east coast.

Learn more about Phakamisa

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