Mission Creep?

All right, I am going to go out on a limb and declare, "Death to all missionaries." Oh, perhaps not all of them. I know that Mother Teresa and her army of helpers placed actual need here in earthly life far above any mission to save souls in the hereafter. But here in Nicaragua, I am baffled by the hordes of earnest do-gooders who believe that this already religious population somehow needs saving of the spiritual kind above and beyond their obvious need for economic assistance.

When Gabe and I came down in May for a two-week visit, we met people in the Florida airport who were flying to Nicaragua for a one-week stay in Masatepe, previously mentioned here as the town where one can find good furniture. These people were not on a mission to help build a school or plant a crop or be otherwise useful. Their purpose was to fly to this country, at great personal expense, and pray for a week. Granted, some agency that arranges these sorts of travel opportunities was making a profit, and perhaps some Masatepe residents might garner a few extra cordobas by providing beds for the prayers. I seem to recall that it mattered not where one prayed; surely, these people could have stayed home and prayed and donated the money they would have spent lining the travel agent's pockets to some worthy project that would have actually benefited the citizens of Masatepe.

I was a proud do-gooder myself when I developed a sport project some 28 years ago in San Isidro, Nicaragua. I did bother asking what would do some good for the town's children. They had no sports equipment, period. They wanted baseball, basketball, soccer, and volleyball gear. They needed some money to repair the town's ball field. And that's what they got. I paid my own expenses, and raised funds to purchase the equipment. My boss's boss at Westinghouse took care of the shipping costs, and San Isidro got its sports programs. It felt good to be helpful. I do understand the impulse.

This afternoon, two fresh-faced norteamericanos appeared at our back wall, having climbed up from the rocky beach below, and asked to pass through our compound to the road. They were neatly dressed in dark trousers, with white shirts and long black ties, not the usual uniform for traipsing up and down the rocky escarpment. Ah, missionaries! Never mind that every bus sports calligraphic adornment of new testament praise for Cristo, or that every tenth structure on the average road is a church of some sort—Seventh Day Adventists, Jehovah's Witnesses, Catholics, Apostolic Pentecostal Whatevers. Religion is not a crying need here. WTF are these missionaries in their ties and trousers doing in this poor country that faces real economic challenges? The arrogance of the righteous is quite breathtaking!

Voluntourism. This portmanteau term to describe travel opportunities that include participation in projects to benefit local populations is, I hope, falling out of favor now. If, as suggested above, one truly wants to help, the cash for expensive air tickets could be used so much more effectively in direct aid to a sensible, trustworthy organization that knows best how to direct it. By all means, travel to the third world, learn about problems first-hand. But do not deceive yourself that your half-day stacking bricks in the hot sun did anybody any good at all. That road to hell is paved with such aspirations.

For the record, I have not the slightest notion of doing anybody any good at all. I just want to live in peace and do no harm. Amen.