El Golfo – or: …. in the shadow of the valley of death

*** The German original was posted here yesterday.

Rev Wache, who sent me this text, is tourism pastor on Tenerife. 

On the Island El Hierro, there is a valley called „El Golfo“. It is really not a valley but a semi-circular plain: slanting down towards the sea and surrounded on the other side by a more than 100o m high, almost vertical, steep brim. Once upon a time, there was a gigantic rockfall here of a prehistoric volcano. Very likely that the cause was an earthquake. Half of the mountain simply slid down; most of it into the ocean. It is assumed that an enormous tsunami followed.

I July, I stood once more awed before this incredible brim in El Golfo. The mountain does seem a little eery. Eery or sinister like the ruptures that we know in our lives:

A severe illness throws me off track.

A sudden death shatters what seemed so strong and stable.

A separation, the loss of a job, an accident…

Ruptures happen in life, again and again.

And they feel like a part of our life breaks away, slides down. Like in an earthquake, the soul is shaken. Nothing seems like it was before. And such ruptures in life have consequences. For one’s biography, but also for the people living with us: a tsunami that drags everything along; nothing left but debris – there seems to be no escape.

El Golfo today is a fertile stretch of land: there is wine growing, bananas too and pineapples are grown here easily. It took some time until people discovered the special value of this part of the island, just under the brim. It took a while until people found out what one can plant here and what not. A lot is possible but not everything.  A long tunnel was built right through the mountain to make El Golfo more accessible and o a less dangerous passage to other parts of the island than by the endless serpentine roads.

And it takes time, until the debris after a rupture, until the chaos after an earthquake find new order. That is true also for the ruptures in life. We might cling to the idea that all should be as it was before the rupture, before the illness, before a loved one’s death, before separation, before whatever ruptured our life. But most of the times, it will not be the same as before.

I can relate to what I read in Psalm 23: At first, we read of life in plenty, of green pastures and a straight path. Al seems well. But then there is the dark valley, eery stone walls left and right. But there is someone who walks with me.  God, the Lord, my shepherd,

Invisible, and yet I can feel his presence.

And this presence feels good, comforting.

Nothing will be as it was before,

but “goodness and mercy” will follow me all my life.

A table is set for me, in the face of all those who are hostile towards me. On this table there may be wine, bananas, and pineapple. Not all, but much is possible. There is access again, by a tunnel through the dark, steep rock, so that people can reach me again, friendly people.

El Golfo isn’t just here on El Hierro…

Rev Immo Wache, Tenerife