Half a Day

It's Monday, and that means back to work. The work progresses: some beams were raised for the roof, and the digging crews got the trench closer to the needed depth for the foundation of the retaining wall. It seems as though the required depth keeps changing; the foreman comes, takes a look, says "another two feet"; we dig another two feet; the foreman comes, takes a look, says "another two feet." So we dig. At least it means that none of us need to scamper up the scaffold and try to put roof beams in place.

After lunch (lovely local tilapia, by the way) Lee and I and John Lane revived an old custom of these Honduran mission trips: we took the afternoon off for personal purposes. Apparently it was the case on the first couple of trips that people got at least one half-day off during the week, while others took up the slack on the work site. But some over-achievers (as it was explained to me) on one trip worked straight through, and the custom fell into abeyance. Well, say I, it's high time to revive it. So the three of us cadged a ride back into town with the lunch crew; John met up with Bizzy, who'd taken the day off herself because of a slight infection she's been monitoring; and Lee and I went to the museum at the archeological park. It's much larger than the museum in town that we'd seen on Saturday, and we spent a good two hours taking in the sculptures, the friezes, and the exquisite stonework that has made the Copan Mayan site famous.

The most amazing feature of the museum is the full-size replica of the "Rosalila" temple that is in the center of the open-roofed museum building. The Rosalila is a temple from perhaps the middle of the Classic period of Copan culture, which had been completely built over and buried by a later temple, when a king wanted to enhance his prestige by building--literally--on the foundation of his ancestor. But the Rosalila wasn't just buried haphazardly: it was buried with respect and care, to be the heart of the new temple. The upshot for archeologists is that the burial process preserved the older temple almost completely intact, not only with its stonework, but with the elaborate stucco on the stone, and the vivid painting on the stucco. The Rosalila is still under the bigger pyramid; but the keepers of the site have built a full-sized replica, with the stucco modeling and the colorful painting, just as the original would look if it were unearthed. It's an amazing sight, and the museum is built to highlight it to advantage. I don't know anywhere near enough Mayan mythology to understand all the symbols and motifs on the temple. But one of the things that strikes me about it is the faces: there are faces everywhere: faces of people and faces of monster/spirits, faces on the corners, faces in medallions, faces emerging from the mouths of other faces. It's as if the temple itself is community of myriad spirit-presences, watching the world from their otherworld vantage, and ready to communicate visions and meanings at a moment's notice. I'd post a picture, but none of our snapshots would really do it justice. Look it up with an internet search; you'll be amazed.

After the museum, we met up with the rest of the group, and then all went out for dinner at the home of a family from the Santa Rita congregation who've been friends of our group from the beginning. Putting on a meal for nineteen people (our mission group plus our bus driver and his daughter) is no easy task, but the extended family handled it with generosity and grace. And really good food!

So this was a multifaceted day. Not quite so multifaceted as the faces on the Rosalila, perhaps, but watchful and communicative in its own way. Working in community, eating in community, appreciating the art of a long-ago community. These are things that make the mission not only an outreach to someone else, but a gift for our souls, too.

May the Peace of Christ be with you,
Paul+