Some good ol' church goin'!

Church. I hate going to Church. Ok, perhaps "hate" is too aggressive a word. Let's go with I strongly dislike, and avoid going to as much as possible, Church. Now let's define terms. "Church" with a "C" = big building, rows of pews, people caught up in, and ever so eager to share, their understanding of righteousness. You know, the sort of place where people glare at and hush crying babies and try to make small children sit up straight and pay attention. Some churches are more "Church"-like than others. Maybe it's the arrangement of the room that bothers me or the crowd mentality or the sense I get that it's all for show. I mean, just pass the collection basket at the beginning and save us all some time, right?! I know it works for some people, but it's rare that I get any sense of fellowship from going to Church. I just want it to end and hope there's some free food involved. When I was a child my mother would take me to Quaker Meeting and that felt different. Connected. Less pretentious. Maybe because it was in a waterless cabin in the woods or the fact that we all sat silently in a circle on the floor so that there was no leader. We all communed with each other and with God on our own terms as we felt appropriate. If you felt like sharing, you shared. If you felt like doing your own thing, you had the freedom to do so. It's more of an informal meditation group than Church.

However, for some reason, I get the same sense of togetherness from attending the services in the village of Poncho Mateo even though it seems to have many of the aspects of Church I dislike: people still sit in rows facing the front, are eager to share their righteousness, and there is a collection plate. But in this church there is a feeling that I can only describe as the closest I've ever felt to evidence of true Faith. Many of these people fled to the Dominican Republic from Haiti with only the clothes on their backs and even now, while conditions may be better, they don't have much else to their names. Their next meal, if they have one, is most likely coming from the landfill, a many miles walk away. In this church there are babies crying and children playing. Nothing is clean. There are fans, but only on the rarest of occasions is there electricity to power them. It's hot. You sweat a lot. But people hug you and you get a sense that they are genuinely happy to be able to share this moment with you.

A walk through the village to church

Ok, fine. It's true. I just go for the singing!



Rooftop garbage