The Psalm Remains the Same

"By the rivers of Babylon we sat and wept
when we remembered Zion." (Psalm 137)

This wizened old man who was a missionary in Kenya for decades told us, among other things, about how Africans are much more about community than the hardy individualism so prevalent here. When a Christian African imagines God breathing Life into Adam, he/she sees this breath reaching us through countless generations of people, our own ancestors.

I wonder about the cultural lens through which I perceive my own identity. Am I an American simply because I, an individual, had been born and raised in this country? Or in some way do I belong to the people of my ancestry, since in every way my breath and my blood came to me through them? It seems to me now that both are reasonable. If the latter is true, then I whether I like it or not, am part of the story and struggle of the people of the Philippines.

Moses was raised in the house of pharaoh. Not that I see myself as a great liberator or anything, but rather it's about identity. Do I stand on the side of the rich and mighty or the poor and oppressed? I know where Christ stood.

As hundreds of thousands of Filipinos leave their country to earn money and find a better life for themselves and their families, I find myself wondering weather the place I've called home all my life is the Promised Land or is in fact Babylon.