It was language class as usual. New grammar, new vocabulary, difficult pronunciation exercises and a lot of laughter at our elementary school level language mistakes. It was actually one of those rare days where I felt like some small progress was being made in Mongolian language study. I understood the grammar. I was actually remembering the vocabulary. Pronunciation was coming through somewhat understandably. It was a rare moment when our laughter wasn't one of my errors. With only 20 minutes left in class, I was confident this was going to end up being a very good day.
Then the phone call came.
My teacher doesn't typically answer her cell phone when it rings in class. For some reason she did today. She stepped out of the room to take the call, stepping back in a few minutes later. She quietly sat at her desk and told us that she had received bad news. Her 24 year old cousin had died rather suddenly of kidney failure. She was clearly upset and not sure where what to do for the rest of class.
At this point I began to be at somewhat of a loss. I wanted to express sympathy and I knew enough to know that in Mongolian you don't say "I'm sorry" the same way we would in English. You do not say "I'm sorry" for something of which you are not personally at fault. I had nothing to do with the death of her cousin, therefore wrong phrase. The problem being that I couldn't remember the word to use in this situation. However, I did have that word written in my notebook. So in the silence (that was growing more and more uncomfortable for all four students that were in the room with her), I discreetly looked up the appropriate phrase and with genuine compassion expressed my sympathy. I am not exactly sure what happened at that point, other than the fact that things got more uncomfortable. My teacher completely broke down and wept. The class was completely silent save her weeping. After several very long minutes like this, she said she couldn't finish class and left the room.
Now, if this had happened a year ago in the States - I would have known exactly how to handle it. I knew the appropriate way to put my hand on her shoulder and weep with her and pray for her. I could have expressed biblical sympathy for her in a way that would have been culturally and socially appropriate. It would have been comfortable and natural and something that I had done 10's maybe 100's of times.
But not this day.
On this day I just sat there and stared, utterly helpless and at a loss for what to do or say. I had no idea what would have been culturally or socially appropriate at that point. I had no idea what to do. I just sat there and silently prayed, because I didn't know how to appropriately respond.
Language learning is a thousand times more than verbs and nouns and pronunciation and listening and speaking and reading. Language learning is understanding the heartbeat of a culture. It's knowing what makes a people group tick; what makes them laugh and what makes them cry and how to walk with truth in the middle of it all. I wanted comfort my teacher that day. I knew the right words to say. I know the God of comfort who can meet every need of her heart. But it wasn't enough to know these things. I didn't know how to put the two together in a way that would help my teacher. I couldn't really help her. Not yet. I need to study more and learn more and understand more about this very strange place. Language is so much more than verb forms and noun cases. That's the easy part. Language is people and how they think and how they live and how they express themselves. It's all still very foreign to me. I learned a valuable lesson that uncomfortable day. I still have a long way to go. But I am all the more determined to go the distance, and with God's gracious help to do what it takes to go deep into this culture in order to know and love and understand the people God has sent us serve.
Bernie Anderson
