I made toward my usual morning stop at the tea kettle. We
have chai tea banter, not water cooler chat, in a Kenyan office. I noted
several of my co-workers’ heads straining out of the open window. I tried to
offer salimea!, greetings, however,
they were too engrossed.
I wiggled my way through the bodies and needed a few moments
to gawk myself. From our 6th floor vantage point, we have a clear
view of the dusty streets below. The normally terra-cotta colored patch of
earth, just below our window, shone a matte maroon this morning. Lines of
families, flowed into this rectangle arena. Milky white goats dotted the edges
of the human line. The center of, the usually barren, pitch was inundated with
trios: goat and two men. Several goats brayed. In these odd trios, one of the
men restrained the goat’s legs, the other man, held the head to expose and
examine the neck. Many goats were kicking and throwing their heads in a final,
vain struggle. Some goats were still, maroon sand-halos encircling their heads.
Even others goats were strung up on posts, having lost their fur to the process
of sacrifice. The families watched the blood flow. The men’s smiles and
joyfully powerful actions easily reached our window. The conclave of those sacrificing
felt like a man’s club, reveling in old scotch and fine cigars. Clearly, this
was a celebration! Clearly, the blood spilt was somehow linked to each man’s
provision for his family. It was necessary.
Upon closer observation, I even noted a still cow in the
corner. About 6 men surrounded the animal, rejoicing in the process of it’s
deconstruction. So much blood from that animal. So much rejoicing!
Now, my early morning settled. I recalled my morning run and
the abnormal abundance of white goats accompanying brown boys (either Indian or
Arab children). Some animals were marked with paint. Most were being encouraged
to eat.
The following day, I learned bits and pieces about the
Islamic sacrifice of the day before. The day of Eid-Al-Adha relives Abraham’s
intended sacrifice of Ishamel (in Islam, it is understood Ishamel, aka.
Ishmael, is the son born of Hajra, aka. Hagar, and Abraham. It is this son God
demands to test Abraham’s devotion). This commemoration of Abraham’s
faithfulness points directly toward Allah’s provision. In the Islamic tradition
and for Kenyans whom gain their livelihood from animals, an unblemished goat is
a mighty sacrifice. Today, the prayer is that God will fill the deficit left by
the sacrificed animal.
The need to
spill blood, to atone for human sins, to remind us how much we thrive on His
provision...
I was
reading about the nation of Israel and the first Passover recently. Families,
tribes, the nation, united in this out pouring of blood. It defines them as a
people, almost solidifying their nationhood. The amazing thing about the Jewish
memorial of Passover, is that there is NEVER enough blood. Each year, there
must be animal lives taken.
As I watched
the public sacrifice of animals to Allah, the catharsis from the community is
real! Performing an act of sacrifice, resetting our sight toward the Being of
God, denying our human nature, takes not just Theory but Practice. The benefit
of their sacrifice being so visible is it’s community building nature! Everyone
participates and, by the looks of the faces, everyone involved sees God.
But oh, the
blood. These families too, craved more blood!
Wild musings
followed… to compare this red sand to the Blood of Christ:
But one
thought resonated more deeply. The desire of the Nations to connect to God! The
extreme sacrifice so many Traditions command in order to elevate mortals to the
Transcendent. All kinds of peoples recognize the gap between us and God. Many different
worldviews offer/give up/ sacrifice something to get ‘there’.
While that
day I witnessed the rejoicing in spilling of blood, I rejoice because it was spilt. Christ’s sacrifice was enough
blood to cover all peoples, all transgressions of those people, for all generations! My hunger is not for
more blood to flow, but for my own body and life to be a sacrifice to my God.
Maybe then I can encounter Him more intimately.
