Whisking through the branches of jungle trees over 50 meters tall is a rare type of exhilaration. For the adventure seeking traveler in northern Thailand near the city of Chiang Mai, the Flight of the Gibbon is a perfect day trip filled with excitement. Registration is simple using their web site, and the company sends a van to various hotels to pick up participants. Three start times are offered to participants, one early in the morning, one mid morning, and one in the early afternoon, but the mid morning trip costs a little extra. Each trip is about 2000 baht, or approximately $60 to $70 per participant.  Once participants are picked up from their hotels, they are taken about forty-five minutes outside of Chiang Mai into the hill country. Upon arrival, a safety talk is given, and harnesses are distributed along with all the necessary protective gear. Another van trip leads to the first platform and the start of a grand adventure. All together there are eighteen platforms and over 2 kilometers of zip lines. Two experienced guides accompany each group. The guides are very friendly and humorous adding to the enjoyment of the trip. The zip line course takes about three hours from start to completion. At the end of the course, participants are taken to a scenic waterfall to hike and take pictures. Lunch is served at the conclusion of the hike. After lunch the busses commute people back to their hotels. Although it may seem a bit more pricy, this adventure is one that is worth the extra expense that will not easily be forgot.

In the West, Buddhism has possibly been more misunderstood than any other religion.  Yet, even in this opening statement sits the first significant misconception.  In the traditional sense, Buddhism is not really a religion.  Instead, it is much more of a lifestyle.  Because of this, and in light of various misunderstandings, Buddhism is actually quite similar to and much more compatible with Christianity than most westerners would like to admit.  There are six significant Western misconceptions of Buddhism that demand clarification:

• Misconception #1: Buddhism is a religion.
• Misconception #2: Buddhists seek to avoid suffering.
• Misconception #3: The goal of Buddhist meditation is to avoid suffering by emptying oneself.
• Misconception #4: Buddhism teaches belief in reincarnation.
• Misconception #5: The Buddha is a god.
• Misconception #6: People worship the Buddha.

Misconception #1: Buddhism is a religion.
Buddhism is not a religion in the Western sense.  The Random House Dictionary defines religion as a “body of persons adhering to a particular set of beliefs and practices.”  Practices such as meditation and fasting certainly characterize Buddhists, but becoming a Buddhist does not imply adhering to or adopting a specific theology.  Although Buddhism is not a system of beliefs, the Buddha did explain what he had found to be true about the world.  However, he encouraged people not to believe these ideas simply because he taught them.  Instead, he hoped that people would explore the world to discover for themselves whether or not what he taught was true.

Misconception #2: Buddhists seek to avoid suffering.
Buddhists do not avoid suffering.  On the contrary, Buddhism affirms the Four Noble Truths about the nature of suffering, its cause, its cessation, and the path to follow.  This means that they acknowledge suffering as existing in the world.  However, they take this idea further to suggest that desire causes suffering.  Then, by understanding the cause of suffering, confronting it head-on, and forging a path through it, they will eventually come out on the other side, i.e. the cessation of suffering through the cessation of desire.  Christians actually acknowledge a very similar truth about the world.  According to John Calvin the world, and everyone in it, is totally depraved – that is, the world is full of suffering.  So Christians constantly live in the hope of an eternal life in Heaven where suffering will no longer exist: cessation.  They do not however believe that desire ultimately causes suffering but instead understand a sinful nature as the root of the problem.

Misconception #3: The goal of Buddhist meditation is to avoid suffering by emptying oneself.
The goal of meditation is neither to avoid suffering nor to empty oneself, at least not in a negative or harmful way.  The Buddha realized how easily the mind gets caught up in the busy-ness of daily life, and that it frequently needs a break.  So when beginning meditation, a Buddhist simply attempts to slow down his mind by emptying it, so as not to be distracted by everything happening in the surrounding world.  Once he has attained a quiet mind, he will focus his meditation on something specific, such as a teaching of the Buddha or a proverb, in hope of finding wisdom in it and ultimately achieving enlightenment.

Misconception #4: Buddhism teaches belief in reincarnation.
Buddhism does not teach reincarnation.  This is instead a Hindu doctrine.  In Thailand, Hinduism existed before Buddhism, and reincarnation was simply a doctrine that stuck with Buddhism as it became more popular.  Many Westerners have mistakenly associated reincarnation with Buddhism when in fact it is not a characteristic of authentic Buddhism but instead of Hinduism.

Misconception #5: The Buddha is a god.
The Buddha is not a god, and Buddhists are not trying to become gods.  Instead, the Buddha exemplifies the life of a perfect human being.  Consequently, Buddhists pursue enlightenment, which is similar to perfection or even the Christian idea of holiness.  In this sense, the Buddha resembles Christ but without the divine nature.  Christians, in the same way, believe that Christ epitomized the perfect human, and they attempt to follow his example.  Thus Buddhists, like Christians, merely strive to live out lives of perfection.

Misconception #6: People worship the Buddha.
People do not worship the Buddha, nor do they pray to him.  People wai to the Buddha, but they also wai to each other.  A wai is basically the Thai equivalent of a handshake, demonstrated through a bow.  Thus, in wai-ing a Buddha image, a Thai merely acknowledges that he lived a respectable life, that he agrees with what the Buddha taught, and that he tries to follow the Buddha’s example.  But it is not a means of worship.  To Buddhists, the Buddha was simply the perfect human being, and because he had no divine nature, nothing about him calls Buddhists to worship him in the way that Christians revere Yahweh.

These are simply a few of the more common misconceptions about Buddhism.  When clarified, it becomes apparent that Buddhism and Christianity have more in common than first impressions would suggest.  However, the Buddha’s teachings parallel various Christian teachings in other ways as well.

For example, Buddha taught the Eight-Fold Path, which includes right understanding, right thought, right speech, right effort, right livelihood, right action, right mindfulness, and right concentration.  This parallels the Christian call to holiness with its emphasis on doing the right thing, in the right way, at the right time in every aspect of life. Also, Buddhism’s Four Sublime States are loving kindness, compassion, sympathetic joy, and equanimity. These may easily put a Christian in mind of the Fruits of the Spirit (see Galatians 5:22).

To give another example, Buddhist monks take fasting very seriously – another practice which Christ also taught.  Buddhist monks eat two main meals each day, breakfast and lunch, and after noon they fast until the following morning.  In addition, the Buddha taught the Five Precepts, which parallel the Ten Commandments:

• First, abstain from taking life, both human and animal as much as possible (though eating meat is considered okay by most Thai Buddhists).
• Second, abstain from taking anything that does not belong to you.
• Third, abstain from improper sexual relations, i.e. with anyone married, engaged, underage, under the care of their parents, or without consent.
• Fourth, do not tell lies.
• Fifth, do not take consciousness-altering substances, including alcohol. (Many Thai people ignore this one.)

Surprisingly, of the Buddha’s main teachings, not only do none of them contradict specific Christian teachings, but instead, most of them strongly parallel common Christian beliefs.

Because Buddhism is not a religion in the traditional sense, it easily adapts to pre-existing religions in the cultures that it meets.  For instance, Buddhism in Thailand has obvious influence from both Hinduism and animism.  However, Buddhism in itself is surprisingly compatible with Christianity.  In fact, Christians stand to learn a lot both about the world and even about their own religion from adopting Buddhist practices such as fasting and meditation.  Buddhism does not pose a threat to the Christian church but rather could help Christians find an even stronger dedication to their pre-existing faith.  For this reason, foreigners who travel to Thailand and other Buddhist countries as missionaries need not encourage Buddhists to give up their ‘religion’ because most of their daily practices and beliefs would only serve to enhance a potential belief in and walk with Christ.

Being in Thailand can be stressful. Being a student in Thailand is exhausting. By day five of our classes and excursions connected with Payap University, I am done. Our morning discussion goes fairly well. I’m still emotionally and mentally  drained, but doing all right. Then we all climb into a siilaw and got to New Life Center. I have no idea what this center is for or how long we will be here, and I honestly wish we could just go find a coffee shop and visit. Not about about Thailand or cultures or writing, but about whatever suits our fancy.

The siilaw ride takes about half an hour. With twelve girls crammed into the back of a siilaw for a loud, bumpy ride, there isn’t much room to rest, mentally or physically. Because it’s still morning, the air temperature isn’t too high, but our breathing quickly gives the back of the siilaw a muggy, stale smell.

Finally, we arrive. New Life Center doesn’t seem to be too exciting, except for the restroom several of us desperately need that has not only toilet paper, but bath and body works scented hand soap (a smell of home!).

Once I use the restroom, I find my seat facing a map of Thailand and it’s surrounding countries. A woman has just begun speaking. Her name is Karen Smith, and she begins to weave a powerful tale of destruction, pain, and healing.

The New Life Center is a non-governmental organization that does not work with the ethnic Thai, despite their location in Thailand. NLC works with ethnic minorities from hill tribes such as the Karen, Hmong, and Laku, as well as many others. Within these  minorities the center focuses on girls who are vulnerable to or have already experienced exploitation and abuse.

Karen explains to us the factors that have contributed to the need for an organization such as the one she is running. The countries surrounding Thailand have been in chaos for the past fifty years. Because of the relative stability in Thailand, thousands of people seek refuge there. They don’t have legal access to the country much of the time, which leaves migrants and refugees more open to exploitation. If they aren’t legal, they have no governmental protection.

These are the externally at-risk people. There are still those that were born and live within Thailand’s boundaries who are at risk. These are the hill tribe people. Because they are not ethnically Thai, these people do not have the same level of citizenship as a Thai, if they have any citizenship at all. They are also usually poorly educated and often do not read or speak Thai. These factors leave them particularly open to various forms of abuse.

New Life Center strives to help girls who are at of exploitation or have already been exploited. Karen Smith tells us of the education they help to provide, including educational and life skills training. The girls at the center are given the opportunity to pursue healthy, profitable ways of life instead of being subjected to prostitution and other types of abuse.

Karen Smith finishes her informative and touching lecture, and gives us a tour of the compound in order to give us a better idea of the activities the girls participate in. We see beautiful hand made quilts and lovely pictures. The center has an additional focus on rehabilitation which is seen in the different arts and crafts that are available.

Our tour concludes and Karen Smith departs, leaving us to have lunch with the girls. Several of us sit at tables with the girls, but most of us find ourselves at a table set apart. We have a delightful lunch and are given a few moments to tour the gift shop. Then, we sit and sing with the girls.

I have not heard any contemporary worship songs since I arrived in Thailand. The moment I sit down and hear the beautiful voices of these broken girls sing praises to God, my heart begins to break. I recognize the song and begin to sing along in English. Before this moment, these girls were figures. They were an issue that needed to be solved. Now, I see them as lovely human beings who have suffered and are learning to grow again.

After worship the leader asks us to play a game. Put on the spot, we look around at each other, not sure what games would be appropriate within the Thai culture. Finally, one of us lights upon and idea. We decide to play the hand slap game. Not only is this game easy to demonstrate and learn, but language is not necessary. In the hand slap game, you place your right hand over the hand of the person next to you, and your left hand under the hand of the person to your left. Then, you slap. As we go around in a circle, slapping the ground, I look at the faces of these beautiful girls. They are laughing uproariously. Shouts of laughter explode from a group of girls as they manage to slap a friend out of the game. Never before has the pain of these girls been so real to me as this moment, when I see them smiling with joy. They are overcoming, and it is beautiful.

Food, body odors, trash, murky polluted water, carbon monoxide, diesel, spices, laundry: smells overwhelmed us around each sharp corner and in each narrow alley. How does one deal with sensory overload while maintaining balance on a bicycle?

This morning we had the adventure of a lifetime. Following a short journey on the Sky Train and a choppy ride up the Chao Phraya River, we made our way to the Grasshopper Bike Shop, but not for just any spin through the park or a leisurely ride. Yes, we about to get a very different tour of the city of Bangkok. After getting all set up with bikes, helmets and water bottles, we set off on our route, which was to be 15 kilometers long. We quickly realized that this would not only be the adventure of a lifetime — it would also be the workout of a lifetime. It was amazing.

This was not the kind of bike ride one might expect. We wove in and out of dense traffic, making every effort to avoid getting hit by cars, crashing into a vendor stand, or flattening an innocent bystander. There were many side streets and alleys — too many to count. Some were so narrow that not even two people could fit standing side by side; much less enough room for a motorcyclist or a bicyclist to squeeze their way through. I felt a bit claustrophobic. Balance is the name of the game here, but mind over matter is easier said than done. And it’s not my area of expertise either. To ease the worries a bit, there were some wider paths or sidewalks to allow us room to regain our footing.

Occasionally we came to screeching halts at spectacular historic sites, some with a lovely view of the Chao Praya River. Eventually our tour guide, short, wiry, and athletic, took us to a local food stand for a short break and a quick snack: fried pastry and a drink (for me, green tea). But after a few minutes, we walked on jelly legs back to our bikes and rode a few more blocks to a neighborhood that was floating on the murky river.

The walkways were oh so narrow: here, even the villagers have to focus on not missing a step or tripping into the river. Unlike us farang, they have memorized their steps. There were no bars or rails to prevent us from careening into  the water on our bikes, and I found myself holding on for dear life. Watching my bold classmates in sheer amazement, I attempted to imitate them by staying on the bike through this tricky stretch. When this proved unsuccessful, I decided to walk this one out. But now I had to catch up and lead the three others behind me to the rest of the group. Frankly, I am the last person you want doing this: please do not do as I do. From behind me,  Pam shouted to the guide, “mot lao”: wait up!

When we caught up, we had to readjust quickly. Ah yes, back on the main alleyway and out of the floating village. I thought I had found my sweet spot on the bike, but before you know it, it was Crash Boom Bang and Thai men were peering around the corner with their cell phones and cameras in hand. They were capturing a moment that would eventually make its way around the entire neighborhood: a farang girl crashing into someone’s living room. The clanking of the tin fence as I tried to get up was enough to bring about laughter from the crowd, even though I was the one who almost destroyed someone’s humble abode. I am pretty sure the footage will find its way to Thailand’s Funniest Home Videos or some other show. However, that would not be the last time I crashed into something.

A quick second later we were greeted with the sweet smell of pollution followed by thick waves of humidity, making its way up our nostrils, hanging around in our sinuses and trickling its way down our chests into our lungs. We nearly choked on the putrid, potent smells. Back on the main road, we were nearly taken out by a group of tourists, but we kept going, dodging cars and avoiding motor bikes, other pedestrians and wandering farang. Having seen Bangkok at its usual traffick-jammed best, we arrived back at the shop: breathing heavily, wheezing and stiff, almost immobile. And to top things off I was the last to roll in, accompanied by the awful screech of the brakes as I crashed the bike yet again — directly in front of the shop.

The initial plunge stifles smell.

Breathing is inhibited.

All is damp, stale air;

There is nothing fresh.

Then the bit of herbs.

A small inhalation turns to a deep sigh.

No longer old, the steam is new.

Peppery, fresh, and clean invades my nose, mouth, body.

Breathing becomes natural with each moment.

Pungent yet sweet, to take a breath is to drink hot tea.

Not only a smell but a taste…

Soon the dank returns.

Pouring out of the room, cold enters.

Crisp, fresh, and green overwhelm

until once more smell is

lost and found again.

]]> http://thailandtravelers.wordpress.com/2010/02/03/an-exercise-in-smell-herbal-steam-bath/feed/ 0 natsego12 http://thailandtravelers.wordpress.com/2010/02/03/trunk-in-hand-a-mahout-apart/ http://thailandtravelers.wordpress.com/2010/02/03/trunk-in-hand-a-mahout-apart/#comments Wed, 03 Feb 2010 17:49:48 +0000 sallyd11 http://thailandtravelers.wordpress.com/?p=178 Continue reading →]]> Posted by Sally

A mahout crouches in the tall grass, surrounded by rolling hills and grazing elephants. He is barely visible from a distance, a mere speck next to the monstrous mammals around him. He is not the only elephant handler here at Elephant Nature Park, for there are many hatted heads dotted throughout the lush valley. However, as we get closer, we can see that there are many different things about this mahout.

His hair is bright yellow, rather than the inky black heads scattered throughout the field, and the blond locks spill out from beneath a black ball cap. It looks like it would be more at home on a beach than next to the traditional woven straw hats on the other mahouts. His skin is golden brown from the sun, not the smooth, rich color of Thai iced coffee. Even his bright pink shirt is easily distinguishable from the earth tones the rest of the mahouts wear on this day. As we come close enough to start a conversation, his crisp British accent mingles with the sharpness of the Koren dialect so common at this park.

We don’t know his name, but we soon learn his story. His time here began as a one-week volunteer doing many routine tasks: cutting corn, mending fences, and, of course, shoveling elephant dung. However, during this week, a baby elephant was born, and a deep connection formed between the two – she seemed to take to him as she had taken to few others thus far in her short life. He returned for another stay just a few months later, and it soon became clear that the bond had not diminished over time.

He seems eager to share more of his story. “When Lek saw that the baby girl had gotten attached to me, she asked me to come back out and work here. So I went home, quit my job, and flew back out.” This was a rather unusual thing for Lek, the Thai founder of Elephant Nature Park, to do. Asking this farang to move continents to be a mahout among strangers – Burmese who speak a completely different and difficult language, no less – was a revolutionary decision.

This life in Northern Thailand can’t have been an easy adjustment for him He left his job, family, friends, and way of life behind in England to move to a completely different world. He doesn’t speak the language, and this is automatically, if unconsciously, separated from the other mahouts. He says, “One of the other guys was teaching me Burmese, but he left to go back to his village. So I live on this side of the road, instead of with the rest of them, It’s be too hard in the evenings, not being able to speak the language very well.” It is a seemingly lonely life, even as he is surrounded by crowds of people.

Not only is the language barrier difficult, but this entire life must have seemed completely foreign. Being a mahout is not a tradition in his family passed from generation to generation, and he likely feels like an imposter amongst those who follow in the footsteps of their fathers and grandfathers. He had no training and no special skills to speak of, but the connection between him and this baby elephant was strong enough to overcome all the hesitation.

Though the time spent with this mahout and this family of elephants is fairly short, the relationships are obvious. She regularly comes to his side for scratching, snacks, and even just comfort. One special moment between the two occurs at bath time – when the sounds of splashing elephants and shouting visitors fill the air. As the elephants and mahouts walked down to the water, he took a drink from his water bottles. She immediately came up and put her trunk into his free hand. He, without even thinking about it, tipped the bottle to pour water into her snout and resumed drinking. For the remainder of the walk, she kept her trunk in his hand. Walking, just the two of them, elephant and man, trunk in hand. Things as simple as sharing water and loving gestures speak volumes about the relationship. The love and trust flow between them as seamlessly as the unbroken connection of trunk and hand.

Why is it that those who travel often feel the need for, as a Brit I encountered so aptly called it, a holiday from one’s holiday? A vacation is supposed to be a break from the troubles and cares of daily life, but the can  increase one’s load.

Some avoid this odious fate by signing onto packaged tours, in order to leave the planning and scheduling to someone else. However, those can often result in overcrowded charter buses, and an experience which only reveals the teaming tourist sites to the visitor.

So when a calm sanctuary is discovered, shielded from the picture snapping masses, it is a true break from the ills of travelling. Such was the case with my visit to Lake Huay Teung Thao in Chiang Mai, Thailand.

A small group of us went up to the lake with Whitworth alum who work at Payap University. They were right in suggesting it, as Lake Huay turned out to be an oasis for a weary traveler. It lies about a half hour drive by song taow outside of the city. Be sure to negotiate your price and communicate that you need the driver to wait while you play before you go, or you may run into some money troubles as we did.

The 80 acres of wooded parklands around the lake allows one to forget the city altogether! A row of raised thatched huts cling to the shore of the lake. They are excellent for relaxation and good conversation. The sunset over the hills illuminates a golden Buddha statue across the lake, providing a gentle reminder of the exquisite location.

One of the rarest aspects of the lake is the lack of foreigners. While we were there, in mid-January, our group were the only farangs there. This may not be the case in other seasons, but I wouldn’t be too surprised to hear that the lake was still relatively calm during the busy season.

If you get hungry from your time floating in an inner tube (available for a small fee), swimming, or sunbathing, simply bang on the piece of hanging bamboo attached to the hut and someone will appear to take your order. If you are feeling adventurous, order the “dancing shrimp” (goong dten), shrimp served live with a spicy sauce. I must admit, we stayed tame and went with the iced coffee.

Lake Huay is open seven days a week. The entrance fee is twenty baht.

The motorcars and song-thaews whizzing past our little car evoked an innate sense of “thai-ness” as little else could. Added to the effect were the view of the street vendors hocking their wares and, of course, the two men conversing pleasantly in Thai in the front seat. In  fact, the only unusual aspect of the scene were the two American girls riding in the back seat, namely Claire and myself.

“Will any of the family be going with us to the pub?” she inquired during a momentary pause in the conversation. Our newly minted father (whose name we were never told and he never volunteered it himself) shrugged his shoulders and indicated he wasn’t sure who would be attending the unofficial after party. 

For five days we had been living with the Satayopas family, sharing their house and enjoying our role as adopted daughters. There were four of us in all, and while we were living with our host family under the pretense of hanging with the resident high school kid and gaining cultural sensitivity, it was obvious we were there for Tim. You got the sense our house mother was missing her daughter in the states and had compensated by inviting us to stay in her home. Tonight’s festivities however, concerned another family member. In celebration of grandpa’s 81st birthday we were meeting the extended family for a traditional Chinese dinner. Both the food and the company promised to be unique.

In an attempt at a presentable appearance Claire and I had donned dresses and pinned our hair. Since we would be meeting our family for the first time and representing the good old US of A it couldn’t hurt to make a good impression. 

Maneuvering our way past other vehicles to finally swerving down a narrow alley, we found ourselves parked outside an open Chinese restaurant. Various Thais were greeting and hugging beneath its neon sign.

The tinkle of a bell—tin meeting copper—

Shakes stiff bones to consciousness.

Still, awakening, my ears receive the day’s first sounds:

The rustle, crinkle, swish of sheets tossed back.

–

Teak floors leaking cracks of daylight from below

Creak under snappy, cracking, good-morning toes.

Screen doors pop, snap, click in and out of frames,

Ushering in fugitive mosquitoes.

–

There are

No

Sound barriers

Here.

–

Below me, solid teak doors slam shut,

And latches choke them closed.

Showers rush, fountains trickle,

And across the yard, I hear the tink-tink of breakfast dishes being set.

–

With every step, I bump into new sounds,

While familiar ones stalk me from behind.

–

The steady drone of instruments

Wraps itself around my head

It is an orchestra of unfamiliar sounds:

–

Ostinato of deep woodwinds

Unison chants

Polytonality

The tremolo of flutes

The pounding of tribal drums

Circulating voices

Up and down and up and down—

–

The fusion is anything but Western,

And my ears take pause to absorb its newness.

The first five minutes of my day

Are nothing short of a symphony.

I wasn’t the only one in our group to puke her guts out this Jan Term, but I was the first.

And while tossing my cookies, I met someone unexpected: Jesus.

On a Monday night, my host family took me to a gorgeous hillside restaurant in Chiang Mai that overlooks vast flower gardens and a pond.  We ate a giant spread of Thai food, and the next morning, I had a Thai omelet and rose apples for breakfast.  Something didn’t sit right.

By ten o’clock the next morning, I was fighting back recurring waves of stomach pain.  I lost my breakfast at noon.  Thankfully, Ajahn Pam Akarapisan, our amazing liaison with Payap University’s Institute for Religion Culture and Peace, stepped into the breach.  While the rest of our group continued on as planned with the day’s activities, Pam stayed behind to make sure I was okay.

When I was fighting down waves of nausea that threatened to hurl even more of my breakfast back up my esophagus, Pam dabbed a little menthol oil on my hand and told me to smell it.  “It will help with the nausea,” she assured me.  I kept down a can of Sprite and a dose of antibiotics just long enough for everyone to finish lunch a swanky vegetarian restaurant.  But my stomach wasn’t through with me yet.

We continued as a group to a Buddhist monastery where I hoped to listen to a monk talk on the topic of meditation and Buddhism.  After the way things went at the restaurant, Doc made arrangements for me to head back to the nurse’s station at Prince Royal’s College.  It’s a good thing he did.  Outside the monastery, I another wave of nausea hit.  Pam quickly guided me to a storm drain in the parking lot where I could vomit.  Half-crying, half-retching, I started to apologize for being such a gross inconvenience.  But she just held back my hair and, like my own mother does, told me it was okay and that it wasn’t my fault.

I knew I was in lousy shape, but I couldn’t imagine getting to the nurse at PRC without getting sick again.  Pam told me I was going with her and that she would get me to PRC as quickly as she could through the usual mess of Thai traffic.  She braved the retchings of my stomach and the risk of a dirtied car, seemingly unfazed.  She drove with a purpose.  And I didn’t get sick.

At the school, Pam spoke with the nurse about the shape I was in, and when she knew everything was in good hands, she left to meet up with the rest of our group.

I don’t know what I would have done without Pam.  She gave her time, her care and tenderness, her reassuring words, and her calming touch.  Her selfless service, her patience, and her kindness were undeniably Christlike.  Which is interesting.  Because Pam is Muslim.

It’s hard to articulate what this means to me.  Ajahn Pam was hardly more than a stranger to me, yet she went completely out of her way to meet my needs.  We all know the story of the Good Samaritan, and we know the ways Jesus healed multitudes.  Until now, I think I have unconsciously given value to Christians who are like Christ in their service to others without validating the service of others as being Christlike.

It may seem a contradiction of ideas to some, but I saw Jesus in the first Muslim woman I have ever met.