As a missionary in the north-eastern part of Brazil (the Teresina
mission, known to be the poorest mission in the country- I once heard it called
“the Mexico of North America”), I had the privilege of experiencing “futbol” at
its finest. I am a huge fan of soccer;
played ever since I can remember. I knew
I would be in the soccer capital of the world during the World Cup, and knew it
was going to be especially crazy in such a violent area. I was quite nervous because I had already seen
“crazy” with gun shots and gangs.
 |
| (at least in this party we had not beat up each other the day prior...) |
In a city where wreckless
driving, dead animals, violence, drug dealing, and pop music at ear-drum
breaking levels is a daily (and nightly) occurrence, you can imagine the abnormality
of a moment of peace and quiet. I knew exactly
when the kick-off was about to start because friends, families, and enemies alike gathered together to unite for a common cause.
I would think, “Hey, weren’t you two beating each other up yesterday?” Turns out in ancient Greece, the city-states
were often at war, but would make a truce in honor of the Olympic events and
its travelers. Wars were put on hold, even
death penalties were suspended.
