Church

4.17.2005 – 11:19am (PNG)

I have not been to Sunday mass for as long as I can remember. I knew this dubious streak would end soon, seeing that I now work for a catholic school and could probably hit the chapel with a tennis ball if I got a good throw off and the wind was right. However, I had no intentions of going this morning. That is, until the principal spotted me shuffling to the toilet (this place has eyes!) and inquired if I would be attending mass. I weakly responded ‘of course’ and after a hurried breakfast, was gussying up in my Sunday Best.

The church is shaped almost exactly like my old parish, Our Lady of Peace (Columbus, OH) on a smaller scale. It is hexagonal and has a sort of space ship quality. I sat in the back and settled in for my daily allowance of curious stares. The 10am mass is opened to the entire surrounding community so there were a lot of new faces. No jacket or shoes required. The mass was spoken in Tok Pisin, but I could pick up a good amount of words - here and there. The sequence followed classic Catholic protocol – opening song – prayer – two readings – songs – gospel – homily – prayer – peace hand shakes - communion – announcements – closing prayer. I passed on communion, feeling I should get a couple services under my belt before I start joining in the entire ceremony. The songs were great – uplifting and even catchy. Members of the church brought up gifts to the altar, which included some fruits and vegetables and some bamboo sticks – these were later taken to the father’s quarters. During the announcements, I realized that Father Charles was introducing me as a *new member* of the community, for the entire congregation turned towards me in one swift motion to take a good look. Startled, I offered a sheepish wave.

My next neighbor is Father Charles. We’ve had dinner together a few times (we share the same cook) and he invited me to have beers with him and his buddies yesterday afternoon. He’s around 35 years old with a handsome, honest face. He’s got a cool, quiet was about him. I didn’t really see him as ‘Father Charles’ until this morning – he was just Charles my neighbor. It was quite a trip, seeing him in his priestly robes looking so pious.

Yesterday Charles found me lying on the lawn between our houses in only gym shorts and a shirt over my face. He thought I was ill. When I explained to him and his friends that I was trying to ‘get some sun’, they laughed and thought this was the silliest activity a human being could ever think of doing. Which, I suppose it is.

*Father Charles later explained to me that he also told the crowd that I was in fact, not a man of the cloth and should not be referred to as ‘Father Mark’ or ‘Brother Mark’*