Friday, Aug. 12, 2005 | ||
Discovering a new church family
Contributing Writer MEXICO (July 31) I was in a quandary whether to attend church services today. Normally, that decision is a given, but this Sunday, my wife and I are in southwestern central Mexico near a village called San Pancho by the locals, although it is listed officially as San Francisco, or "St. Francis." (In Spanish, "Pancho" is the nickname for "Francisco.") Why did I consider not attending? Well, first of all, it's hot here. I mean it's fire-blazing, soak-the-moisture-outta-your-body hot. Yesterday, while it was only 94 degrees in the shade, it was 106 in the sun. I knew the church would have no air conditioning and I was pretty certain that I would sweat out 10 pounds during the service. Secondly, I knew I would probably be the only non-Spanish speaking person in the service and, since the service would be in Espanol, I would understand nothing. Thirdly, The Church of San Francisco is a Roman Catholic congregation and is, literally, the only church in the town. While I have no difficulties attending Mass with my Roman brethren, I was aware that I would not be able to receive Holy Communion, as is my custom and desire on the Lord's Day. Fourthly, I am, after all, a priest and could consecrate the bread and wine myself and just have a tiny family service in our air-conditioned bedroom. In the end, my desire to spend Sunday morning worshipping God in the midst of his people won out and I traveled the few miles to San Francisco (or San Pancho, if you prefer). I was told that church began at 10:30 a.m. That wasn't entirely accurate. Church services began at 11 a.m. but the townsfolk began gathering I don't know how early to get a seat. I arrived right at 10:30 and the church was already full. Not a single person arrived late to the service, although 95 percent of them walked in the 90-plus-degree heat to get to the church. The church building, which looked quite small on the outside, was spacious and beautifully decorated. I figured that the church could seat around 120-150 and every seat was full. Some children sat on the floor and a number of the men surrendered their seats to women and stood along the walls and in the back. I was right about several things. The church had no air conditioning, although eight to ten fans helped to move the air around. I was terribly uncomfortable for about ten minutes but then just decided to go ahead and sweat and made it through the service wet but unbowed. And while I wasn't the only English-speaking person in the service (there was one young man from Colorado and a number of the Mexican parishioners were bilingual), the service was in Spanish and I actually understood very little. The singers and musicians did sing songs that included "Hosanna" and "hallelujah," so I sung those words when appropriate. I did understand the flow or the shape of the liturgy. I knew when we were reading the scriptures, when to stand for the Gospel, when to confess sins, and I knew when the priest was preaching. And, man, could he preach! I don't know what he said but he said what he said in a manner that would make a Baptist or Pentecostal proud! He was youngish, late 30's to mid-40's, interactive, entertaining, and obviously in love with his congregation. For a Catholic church, the service was surprisingly informal. The priest asked questions during the sermon and waited for answers. He used the youth and children extensively during the service and recognized several adults for something I don't know what, but the congregation clapped so I did, too. There were no hymnals, no missals, no prayers books, no song sheets, no church bulletins; these people knew the service, the songs, and the liturgy by heart. They knelt on the hard concrete floor to pray, they stood attentively to hear the Gospel, and closed their eyes and raised their hands during the Lord's Prayer and at certain times in the Holy Communion. I didn't receive Holy Eucharist, a sad reminder that the Church universal is divided, even at the Table, but I did receive the absolution and gladly embraced the blessing of the priest. During the "passing of the peace" (if you are unfamiliar with many of these terms, that, too, is a sad reminder of our division), quite a number of San Francisco members warmly welcomed me with words that I did not understand but with smiles and embraces that were comfortingly familiar. The people, by the way, shared their smiles and laughter throughout the service. The songs led by the several guitarists and singers were full of praise and devotion. The songs, like the people, were also full of life. During the week, I saw much poverty in the town but on Sunday, every congregant sported colorful, clean clothes and perfectly combed or arranged hair. I am convinced that some of the most beautiful children in the world are found in Mexico. I was, however, reminded of the poverty of the people when the offering basket came by. While every person placed something in the basket, including the smallest of children. When it reached me, there were no bills in the basket, only coins. The smallest bill in Mexico is 20 pesos, or about two dollars. Not a person had two dollars to give. I put in 20 dollars in U. S. bills, and hoped no one would notice. Never, except in Africa, have I felt like such a "rich American" while putting in so little money. Attending this service was the right thing to do. Even though I was a stranger in a strange land, I was thoroughly conscious of being in the midst of brothers and sisters. I didn't understand the words, but I heard and felt their hearts. I had been in the midst of God's people and was the better for it. This afternoon, the feeling lingers. Today, or tomorrow, I will go into the town and, because it is small, I will recognize faces from this morning. And, because I tend to stand out when I am in a church full of Mexicans, the odds are that I, too, will be recognized. Yesterday, these people were strangers. But because of this morning, they are no longer just Mexicans and I am no longer merely a "turista" or a "norteamericano." Because of this morning, we have discovered that we are family, because that's what happens in church. |
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