teisipäev, november 16, 2004
The Lines
Last Sunday before we went to Helsinki, we attended the Kopli Corps in Tallinn. After the meeting, I went with the officers, Majors Phil and Susan Wittenberg, and a group of soldiers and young people to a part of Tallinn called "The Lines." This is a stretch of land bordering the Gulf of Finland with row after row of old wooden tenement houses that are essentially abandoned, except that squatters live in these houses with no electricity and no heat.
Many of those who live there are Russian-speaking families who don't have proper passports and so have difficulties finding work. The problem is that, although these people were born in Estonia, they are not able to pass the Estonian citizenship test that is required in order to have a full passport and full citizenship. This is because the test has an Estonian language component that they are unable to complete. They live in this grey world of being Estonian but not really Estonian. They perfectly fit the definition of a marginalized people, and that makes them The Salvation Army's people.
The Kopli Corps goes to The Lines regularly to do an outdoor Sunday school program. When I went, we had around 20 or so adults and young people from the corps and they set up an electric piano, a pot with food and a big cooler with drink in the large playground area. Then Sergei, one of the older teens, played several tunes on the cornet to get people's attention, while others walked around inviting people to the Sunday school. Everyone who came was given some hot food (a rice and meat dish that was quite tasty) and a drink. Because as a visitor I didn't have a fixed job, I ended up serving food for part of the time, which was great. Some of the children came back sheepishly hoping for a second serving (which, of course, they got), and older folk came along asking almost apologetically if they could have some too. It was wonderful to be in a position of serving, and to be able to grant such simple requests. Of course, my Russian is even worse than my Estonian, so most of my communication came through a smile, nod or by pointing.
After everyone had eaten, there were nearly 50 people gathered as the young people and adults led a Sunday school program. Almost all of them were children, but one mother brought her son along and seemed more interested in what was being said than he was! There was a wonderful spirit among the Salvationists there, as the leaders creatively told Bible stories and younger boys of 10 or 11 rushed to give out gospel tracts to people who passed by. The people from The Lines are used to being neglected; that afternoon they were the object of affection.
It was such an encouragement to me to see. These are the people God raised The Salvation Army up to serve. Around the world, the Army exists to befriend the people that no one else wants. I recently read a story about William Booth, founder of The Salvation Army. Around Christmas time, churches would put on big gatherings for the less fortunate. The people would gather in the square, and one by one, the pastors would call out, "Those who are Anglican, come with me!" "Those who are Lutheran, come with me!" When all the church leaders were gone, there were still people milling about in the square. William Booth cried out, "Those who are left, come with me!" I want to serve those who are left, those who don't fit in any place else.
That is our goal for Tartu. We know these people are here. We've seen them picking through the dumpsters, passed out drunk on a bench or begging on the streets. Pray that God will give us the wisdom to know how.
--Tim
Many of those who live there are Russian-speaking families who don't have proper passports and so have difficulties finding work. The problem is that, although these people were born in Estonia, they are not able to pass the Estonian citizenship test that is required in order to have a full passport and full citizenship. This is because the test has an Estonian language component that they are unable to complete. They live in this grey world of being Estonian but not really Estonian. They perfectly fit the definition of a marginalized people, and that makes them The Salvation Army's people.
The Kopli Corps goes to The Lines regularly to do an outdoor Sunday school program. When I went, we had around 20 or so adults and young people from the corps and they set up an electric piano, a pot with food and a big cooler with drink in the large playground area. Then Sergei, one of the older teens, played several tunes on the cornet to get people's attention, while others walked around inviting people to the Sunday school. Everyone who came was given some hot food (a rice and meat dish that was quite tasty) and a drink. Because as a visitor I didn't have a fixed job, I ended up serving food for part of the time, which was great. Some of the children came back sheepishly hoping for a second serving (which, of course, they got), and older folk came along asking almost apologetically if they could have some too. It was wonderful to be in a position of serving, and to be able to grant such simple requests. Of course, my Russian is even worse than my Estonian, so most of my communication came through a smile, nod or by pointing.
After everyone had eaten, there were nearly 50 people gathered as the young people and adults led a Sunday school program. Almost all of them were children, but one mother brought her son along and seemed more interested in what was being said than he was! There was a wonderful spirit among the Salvationists there, as the leaders creatively told Bible stories and younger boys of 10 or 11 rushed to give out gospel tracts to people who passed by. The people from The Lines are used to being neglected; that afternoon they were the object of affection.
It was such an encouragement to me to see. These are the people God raised The Salvation Army up to serve. Around the world, the Army exists to befriend the people that no one else wants. I recently read a story about William Booth, founder of The Salvation Army. Around Christmas time, churches would put on big gatherings for the less fortunate. The people would gather in the square, and one by one, the pastors would call out, "Those who are Anglican, come with me!" "Those who are Lutheran, come with me!" When all the church leaders were gone, there were still people milling about in the square. William Booth cried out, "Those who are left, come with me!" I want to serve those who are left, those who don't fit in any place else.
That is our goal for Tartu. We know these people are here. We've seen them picking through the dumpsters, passed out drunk on a bench or begging on the streets. Pray that God will give us the wisdom to know how.
--Tim
