Confessions of a Church-Hopper

As I've mentioned before (see the post entitled "Wait for the Rain" in the April archives), there are no UCC churches in the state of Mississippi. So I have become a bit of a spiritual wanderer seeking sustenance and fellowship where I may, whether that's in the high-liturgy Episcopal church I attend on Sundays, or with the black Missionary Baptist congregations where I go for Wednesday night prayer services, or in the occasional Methodist or otherwise Protestant locale. This adds to my spiritual smorgasboarding a year and a half ago in New Orleans, where there were enough UCC churches that I could pick a new location each Sunday without visiting the same congregation twice; my denominational schizophrenia in southern France, where I was both a member of the local Catholic cathedral choir and a regular attendee at a Madagascar-influenced Reformed Protestant Church; and my exploration of Hindu temples & guru wisdom in India.

All this exposure to the myriad ways in which we worship God has given me a rather potluck taste for liturgical practices--for example, I have a fondness for the familiarity and symbolic weight of centuries-old ritual in the pre-Reformation church, but I also crave the dynamism and creativity of the ever-changing participatory prayers in Protestant churches. I find taking communion each Sunday at the Episcopal church to be very fulfilling and I take strange delight in using kneelers--somehow I feel more devout & focused if I'm kneeling when I pray--but boy could they use some more melodious hymns. We never take communion at Wednesday night prayer services, but the verbal theatrics and pure passion of the evening message will set your soul on fire. I'm not even ALLOWED to take communion in Catholic services (let's not go there...it's a sore spot) and I can't understand the finer points of the homily at Spanish-language mass, but the sudden three-dimensionality of one of the mariachi players singing harmony during a folk hymn is pure bliss. (Plus I love seeing little old Mexican ladies in habits responding to every statement with "Gracias a Dios"--as in, "Isn't it a beautiful day out, Sister?" "Yes, thanks be to God." "The choir was in tune most of the service!" "Yes, thanks be to God." "Are you teaching catechism next week, Sister?" "No, thanks be to God!")

The contrasts amongst this great variety of worship styles and credos have helped me to refine what it is, exactly, that I believe; conversely, the commonalities which tie them together have served to affirm the validity of my core beliefs. It's certainly an enriching process, one which stirs up the proverbial religious pot and makes me put on my theological thinking cap.

P.S. Check out my earlier post for today's flavor on the church-hopping front: Latin(o) Mass!

Monday Night Misa

Monday nights my co-worker Elly attends Spanish-language mass at the Catholic church across the way from our office, and the first Monday after I got back she invited me to go. I'm rather game for new adventures, especially the religious kind, and I knew it would be a good opportunity to meet community members as well as work on my Spanish skills. So I put on yet another spiritual hat (to add to the UCC, Episcopal, Missionary Baptist and others I wear down here on the Coast) and headed off to la Misa.


The first challenge was trying to participate in the call-and-response service in a foreign language. I've been to enough Catholic masses in French to have memorized all the correct formulae and when to say what--"Pour des siecles et des siecles, Amen." "Que l'Esprit Saint soit avec vous..." "et avec votre esprit." Bada-bing. (The only trouble I've ever had is with the Lord's prayer, because I am so used to the words and the rhythm of the English version I grew up reciting every Sunday. But then, I get thrown off just by being in a different English-speaking congregation where they pause in different places or emphasize different words--although I have interchanging "trespasses" and "debts," as appropriate, down to an art.)

Now, I don't even know the Catholic service in English, so my participation in la Misa is entirely dependent on how fast I can a.) figure out what the priest (Father Paddy, who speaks Castilian Spanish with an Irish accent, I kid you not) is saying, b.) translate that to the corresponding section of a French mass, c.) remember the correct response in French, d.) translate the French response into Spanish, hoping I get somewhere close to what I'm actually supposed to be saying while still managing to fire off a reasonably sincere prayer. This is why I'm continually behind the rest of the congregation (thank God for the older lady who is also always behind because she can't hear anything); sometimes I have to resort to simply lip-synching and hope it looks like I know what's going on. And NEVER can I find in the missal what I'm actually supposed to be saying in time to join the congregation--it's torture!!

Other than that, however, la Misa is fantastic. The contrast between French and English masses (dare I say white/European masses in general??) and Latino mass, or even African-American mass (I once attended a fabulous second-line service at a black Catholic church in New Orleans), is like night and day. The first is solemn, slow, and can even be a bit dreary at times, although I do love the classical music & Gregorian chants that typically accompanied mass at La Cathedrale Saint-Sauveur. The second is more up-tempo and full of life--the homily is just as devout and the prayers are just as prayerful, but somehow listening to a group of mariachis (un-costumed; let's not get carried away) on guitars accompanying el coro as they harmonize Mexican folk songs while little kids zip up and down the aisles to be blessed, arms beatifically crossed and trying not to giggle--it just fills me with a little extra joy. Then there's all the cheek-kissing during the Passing of the Peace...okay, that happens in France, too, but somehow it's a little warmer here, a little less removed.

I never fail to walk out of la Misa with a smile on my face, my heart uplifted and my toes tapping for some ranchero music. It reminds me of the time a group of Unitarian-Universalist high school youth came down from northern Minnesota to attend prayer service at the local Missionary Baptist church--UUs can be pretty open to different forms of worship, but apparently these kids' home congregation wasn't too lively, because they all came out of service clapping their hands and singing gospel music, shouting "That was awesome, we're converting!!" much to the chagrin of their self-professed humanist youth group leader.

El Senor obra de maneras misteriosas...

AmeriWhat!

Welcome to 2008, and to my newest incarnation on the Mississippi Gulf Coast: Gulf Coast GringAmericorps! Nyuk nyuk nyuk.

The funny part is, I really will be the gringa this year, as I will be working as an Americorps member at a start-up (read: 4 staff people including me) non-profit that seeks to bridge the gap in social services to the local Latino population as well as to change the hearts & minds of the wider community about immigration issues. The organization where I'll be working, alias The Big P, will have an immigration clinic, a homeless day center with showers & laundry facilities, a day labor-contractor meet-up program, a computer lab, and a space for Bible study & church services in Spanish. We will also continue to conduct our ESL classes, but in our new roomy quarters on the East side of town. We move in tomorrow--yessss!!!

This all sounds ambitious, and it is--that's part of the reason I'm so psyched to work here, that and the fabulous justice warrior ladies who are my coworkers, and the amazing people we serve, and the beautiful Spanish language we'll be speaking, etc. We don't yet have all our funding secured, we need office furniture, we're scrounging for grants, computers, curriculum materials, and appliances, and we have salary gaps. But we are all driven by a passion to do as much as we can with and for the Latino community on the Coast, a community facing both a severe shortage of resources and intense local resistance, both due to the explosion in the Latino population since Katrina.

Before the storm, there were virtually no Latinos on the Coast, and thus no social services or communal centers geared towards Spanish speakers or folks of Latin cultural descent. Now, as a result of a boom in the construction and service industries coinciding with a decrease in the indigenous workforce, 25-35,000 Latino immigrants, some documented, some undocumented*, have come to the area, and the tension with the pre-storm community--white, black, and otherwise--is a big problem. Abuse & exploitation abound in the form of unsafe working conditions, paycheck withholding, police harassment, and racially-motivated beatings; those lucky enough to escape such injustices often encounter seemingly insurmountable barriers in their efforts to lead normal, dignified lives--the inability to find healthcare professionals or social workers with whom they are able to communicate, the lack of opportunity to learn English, the loss of familiar support systems upon their arrival in the United States.

This is where The Big P steps in--we accompany individuals on doctor's visits and court appointments, provide casework consultations, represent immigrants during the visa and citizenship application processes, host dinner dances, festivals, and health fairs which build solidarity within the community, teach English, and provide spiritual counseling and fellowship. Amazing, no?

I am so very excited and graced to be on the cutting edge of justice work here on the Coast--and even more excited about becoming part of a new community.

*"Undocumented immigrant" is the correct term for an immigrant who is in the United States without proper documentation. "Illegal alien," "Illegals," "aliens," etc. are offensive terms for human beings who are our brothers and sisters; no human being is "illegal."

Here are a few fun photos from Americorps orientation, which was my life this past week. From now on I'm gonna be run ragged, folks, but that's the way I like it--I'm rarin' to go!!!

Orientation, Day 3 (or 4 maybe?? It all runs together...) Check out the cool t-shirts from past volunteers festooning the walls.

That's my back (in the white shirt and tan pants)--we're installing subflooring to keep the moisture-prone OSB from coming into contact with the new tile flooring. I definitely have the blisters to prove it.

Photo scavenger hunt (we were the first team finished and the only team to find all the clues, plus the bonuses!!)

More Americorps/The Big P fun to follow.