The Grace in Being Outnumbered

~ by Nathan Brown, author, Editor (Signs of the Times, Australia / New Zealand)

The rainy season has come to Cambodia and the oppressive heat is punctuated with regular downpours that flood the fields, roads and marketplaces. Ploughs drawn by cows, water buffaloes or small engines churn the mud in preparation for the rice planting. And the sugar palms stand like tall exclamation marks amid the patchwork of ploughed mud, small lakes and vibrant green.

The roads are more difficult than usual, with the usual clinging dust replaced with brown puddles and sticky mud. But the traffic is no less frenzied, as animals and animal-powered carts share the roadways with large trucks, buses, hordes of small motorbikes and cyclists, and school children in the standard pristine white shirts and dark trousers or long skirts. In some places, the rain washes clean; in others, it collects all the rubbish into polluted pools. A wet fug adds to the spectrum of smells that emanate from the many roadside markets. And when the sun next breaks through the clouds, the humidity rises from the rain-soaked ground and thickens the air until is can almost be tasted.

We are waiting for a ferry across the Ton Le Sap River at the bottom of the great lake in central Cambodia. The group of Cambodian young people we are travelling with—the senior students from an orphanage school—talk and laugh among themselves, exploring the river bank while waiting for the cross-river ferry to return from the far bank. We watch a heavy rainstorm strafe the river in the distance, expecting it to move up the river and break over us at any time.

A short distance downstream, the public address system from a mosque sounds the afternoon call to prayer. The tinny, amplified chant echoes across the empty expanse of the river. To our left, a passenger ferry—an old wooden boat powered by a single propeller on an extended pole—unloads on the bank. Among the passengers, a lone Buddhist monk is conspicuous by his bright orange robes. We can see three large pagodas on the opposite bank, one of them is still under construction with a spider web of bamboo scaffolding precariously surrounding the half-finished roof.

We understand so little of it. The language washes over us like the scudding rainstorms but we can recognise only occasional sounds. It is like this for most of our trip. With many of the people we meet, conversations are restricted to “Hello” and an exchange of smiles, mostly sparked by our shared predicament of being unable to communicate further. And the lives, beliefs, culture, tastes and smells are similarly strange—and, at times, difficult for us to appreciate.

It can be a difficult place to be and not always comfortable. We tend to gravitate toward those who are like us, who live, look, think and act like us. This is natural and more comfortable. In the company of our fellows, we can relax and simply enjoy all that we share in common. And that is good. We need networks of social support and community and these form more easily around common beliefs, values and culture.
But there is a grace in being outnumbered. Removed from the easy assumptions and taken-for-grantedness of our everyday lives, we are challenged to think about what is most important in our beliefs and culture. We are also invited to learn from all that is around us, to look for what is important and best in their lives, beliefs and culture. In addition, we must reflect on the poverty, disease and tragic history of Cambodia that are realities in the lives of many of the people with whom we come into contact and of the country and culture as a whole.

And we also come to realise that we are not as outnumbered or outside as it might first appear. Our first connection with the people we meet and spend time with is that of fellow human beings. Their joys, sorrow, hopes, fears, dreams and aspirations at least parallel our own. We try to learn from them and how these essential human drives are expressed in their culture and belief. And, when opportunities arise, we in turn try to explain something of our lives to them.

It is not an easy road. But being outnumbered from time to time is perhaps a pre-eminent spiritual discipline. It tests and expands our lives, belief and thought—and it is the bridge of humility toward mutual growth and sharing our lives, loves and faith.

And we don’t have to trek around Cambodia to find places to be outnumbered.

Comments

[Ansku]

I appreciate the thought of being outnumbered as a spiritual discipline.

As I reflect on my life I can see that the times when I have been in a racial, religious, academic, or a social minority have been of spiritual significance to me. What a blessing.