Being "Mchungaji"

In Swahili, they word for pastor is "mchungaji." Quite literally, the word means goat-herder or shepherd. Similar to the way that the English words "pastor" and "pastoral" are related to shepherds and pastures, so also does the word "mchungaji" connect the idea of pastor with the idea of tending a flock.

A common sight during our travels was of young Maasai boys herding goats and cattle along the sides of the road. The Maasai are herdsmen and warriors, and Maasai Christians feel a special kinship with all the characters in the Bible who are themselves herders and nomads, and especially with the idea of Jesus as the good shepherd. After seeing so many herds of goats being ushered through the dust, and after hearing the testimonies of exuberant Maasai Christians, I consider it a special privilege to have been called "mchungaji," a goat-herder of souls.

Being "mchungaji" meant many things to me during my time in Tanzania. It meant bringing greetings to the congregations we visited, in the name of the God who is Lord of us all. It meant being ushered up to the front of a Maasai tribal Lutheran worship service during the first hymn, so that I could sit alongside the pastor and worship leaders of the church. It meant signing church guestbooks and receiving many handshakes.

Being "mchungaji" was something fascinating to a gaggle of pre-teen girls who stood and gawked and giggled nearby me while standing outside a church in Moshi. Being "mchungaji" was something exciting and worth applause at the Maasai church choir rehearsal we visited mid-week. Being "mchungaji" was something respected so deeply by one of our guides that he called me by no other name or title. Being "mchungaji" was something curious and beautiful to families and children in a Maasai boma as they watched me try on a stole covered in traditional beadwork.

Being "mchungaji" was a strange and humbling experience for me. As with any of us who profess faith in Jesus Christ, we embody humility in faith and lead through humble service. It is jarring (in a good way, I think!) to be in a place where having a faith-calling was both respected and celebrated.

While I may have been the official "mchungaji," I saw plenty of other "mchungaji" around me:

• Steve Friberg, who spends his time tending nine clinics that provide healthcare to some of the poorest people in the country, and who carries himself quietly and humbly, drinking his chai and loving the people he works with and cares for.
• Bethany Friberg, who has a passion for the plight of women, and who oversees the Naapok Bead Project, a collective of women who make and sell traditional Maasai beadwork so that they have a small income with which to support their families.
• Mama Sara, the graceful and lovely woman who led us out from the clinic into the village of Mto wa Mbu to accompany her on home visits to AIDS patients, where she filled the role of nurse, spiritual caregiver, and community organizer.
• Simon and Ezekiel, two evangelists who tend and lead churches out in the bush, serving their communities of faith while the regional pastors travel among all of their member churches.
• The poorest members of the church congregations, who have no money to bring up for the offering but instead bring up chickens, sugar cane, fruit, and gourds filled with milk or yogurt that will be auctioned off after church and the money given as their offering.
• The servant leaders from St. Timothy Lutheran, St. Paul Lutheran, and Community Presbyterian who painted buildings and poured cement, befriended the clinic staff, cared for one another, and threw themselves headlong into living and loving Tanzania.

Talk to any of our group members who traveled to Africa this summer, and you'll hear story after story about seeing God in the people we served, in the communities who welcomed us, in the congregations who opened their doors to us, and in the wide and wild beauty of God's amazing creation. It is a blessing to have been "mchungaji" in and among this faithful and compassionate group of travelers.