A letter from Katie Griffin in Argentina
March 23, 2011
Dear Friends,
Most of my correspondence last year had to do with organizing my interpretation assignment in the Carolinas last fall. Now I am back at home and beginning to resume more regular schedules and habits again.
Regular is a strange word, and it seems to invoke visions of a reality that does not exist.
In the life of a pastor’s family, there are always interruptions. Yesterday, we were at the wake of one of the deacons at church who passed away Monday night. At the same time, one of the youth had a serious accident playing football (soccer). Regular always includes interruptions. The cross of Jesus Christ has interrupted the normal course of human sin and sickness. God becomes present when we least expect it.
As an historian, I would like to share a reflection about the life of our church’s very faithful deacon, Delia, who is now dancing for joy in the presence of our Lord. She was 75 years old, and was buried on what would have been her 55th wedding anniversary, which she celebrated in heaven with her husband, while her sisters, children, grandchildren and friends struggled to figure out how to work around this new and painful absence in their lives.
Delia’s story
Administration commission leaders with Anita (far right – Delia’s best friend) who is in charge of the children's soup kitchen and Delia (red shirt) who was in charge of the community clothing closet. Anita and Delia have fed and clothed thousands of children and young mothers in more than 30 years of working together. Photo taken March 2010.
Delia was born the third of three girls on a small estancia (large, rural estate) in the northern part of the Province of Buenos Aires. Her family had been farming their land for several generations. Delia’s sisters were 16 and 18 years old when she was born, and her mother died very shortly after her birth. The girls’ mother did what she could to ensure that her older daughters finished their schooling, which was rare in those days. Very few girls in rural communities were allowed to finish elementary school, and those who did either became school teachers or garment makers until they married. Delia was raised by her sisters, but her sisters soon got married and moved to the outskirts of the city of Buenos Aires. Delia’s fate then became similar to that of other girls born on estancias. Her father pulled her out of school before she finished fourth grade so that she could help with the farm chores. His idea was that she marry the son of some other estanciero and continue to work at home and take care of him in his later years.
Delia, however, fell in love with and married the son of Italian immigrants. Xenophobia has been an important factor in Argentine culture. Up to 30 percent of the country’s entire population was comprised of first generation European immigrants from 1900 through 1950. The xenophobic backlash was intense. Delia was excluded from her father’s inheritance and exiled from her community. She and her husband moved to the outskirts of Buenos Aires to be closer to her sisters.
As Delia struggled to find her way in a new community, in a bicultural marriage, with few educational skills, she met some women who met for prayer at a small Pentecostal church in the neighborhood.
Pentecostalism in Buenos Aires
It is no accident of history that the church community that she came across was Pentecostal.
The population of the greater metropolitan area of the City of Buenos Aires began to explode due to migrations from rural areas and immigration from post-war Europe during the years of Juan D. Perón’s first presidency (1946-1951; he served a second term of office from 1951-1955, but was overthrown by a military coup d’ etat before he finished it). Up through 1950, less than 2 percent of the population belonged to a religious organization that was not Roman Catholic; those who were Protestant, Jewish or Muslim were immigrants. In 1954, Tommy Hicks led the largest Pentecostal evangelistic campaign in the history of Buenos Aires up to that time. Small Pentecostal congregations or prayer meetings started to appear throughout the greater metropolitan area.
A special luncheon we had at church in honor of the denomination's anniversary (Sept. 24). It was taken on Sept. 27, 2009. Delia and her oldest sister, Chola, are in the foreground.
Delia found a place to belong with the other women who met for prayer in her neighborhood. This particular prayer meeting continued to grow and form a congregation in spite of the religious persecution that grew out of the Catholic-backed military governments that came and went over the next 30 years.
Delia’s husband remained a staunch Roman Catholic until shortly before he died and protested her participation in a Pentecostal prayer group. But Delia had found a God who loved her and a community of women who befriended her. She learned, slowly, how to love and respect her husband and also how to convince him to love and respect her. Her innate intelligence and love for life were natural gifts that she learned to sharpen and use through Bible study and community service with the women in her prayer group.
In the 1960’s, the Pentecostal group in which Delia participated, called the Asociación La Iglesia De Dios (ALIDD), decided to go against the current of most Pentecostal churches in Argentina and recognized the ordination of women to all levels of ministry. Delia was one of the first women ordained as a deacon in her church. She served faithfully, lovingly and consistently until four months before she passed on.
The greatness of God in ordinary people
As an academic historian, I have learned much about the social, economic and political history of Argentina. As a woman with a decidedly feminist bent to my own upbringing, I have been especially interested in the history of gender relations in Argentina. As a pastor’s wife and a theologian, I have learned to see the greatness of God in small, seemingly insignificant places and people.
In the large picture of the history of Argentina, the names of women like Delia simply do not appear. Yet when one looks through the demographic statistics of Argentina throughout the last two centuries, one finds indications that hundreds of thousands of women like Delia have existed in the history of Argentina. And Delia, because of the person into whom God transformed her, quite possibly has had a greater impact on more people’s lives in her community than the current mayor of our town. The story of her life is an integral part of the story of Argentina.
Join with me in giving thanks to God for Delia’s life and in praying for the people who are grieving her absence in our midst.
May the Peace of Christ be with you!
Katie
The Rev. Kathleen M. Griffin
Professor of Church History
University Institute – ISEDET)
Mission co-worker of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.)
Buenos Aires, Argentina
The 2011 Mission Yearbook for Prayer & Study, p. 303
