Two Churches

 
As befitting our position as guests of a priest, we started our day with  7 a.m. Sunday service at St. Andre. That early hour finds many Haitian teenagers up and about; not so for American ones. Yet they nonetheless roused themselves from breezy rooms with cozy beds and got themselves to church, almost on time.

We entered to an electric piano and drums playing "My Grandfather's Clock." The service began with the familiar trappings of a high church Anglican service: hymns in Kreyol and liturgy in French, candles, incense, acolytes, and more.

After Johnny, Jim, Yvonne, and I attended a Lenten service Friday night, we gleaned that there is no such thing as a quick Haitian church service. No one was watching the clock except us, however, and the service got really rolling at about the hour mark.

Pere Walins is a charismatic speaker. I understood only a few of the Kreyol words he said, yet he still held my attention with his beautiful speaking voice, his manner which is both forceful and gentle, and his obvious ease with his congregation. He cracked jokes and everyone laughed. He was dissatisfied with their response to a question, so he asked it again, and everyone shouted out, to his great pleasure. He has a deep and melodious baritone and sang the eucharistic prayers.

After the eucharist, James (Pere Walin's seventeen-year-old assistant, who has also been our tour guide for the trip thus far), led the congregation in rousing singing, with lots of hand-clapping and smiles all around. James himself has a wonderful voice, so it was a treat to hear him and see how easily he led the group. My favorite moment was a hearty and gladsome version of the theme song used in Lilies of the Field:  "Amen, Amen, Amen, Amen, Amen." Sydney Poitier would have been proud.

We received warm and friendly greetings. At about the two hour mark, the service ended.

We broke for breakfast--papaya, cantaloupe, bread and peanut butter, and a pumpkin soup with potatoes, onions, greens, a bit of beef, and something like gnocchi. All of our kids tried the soup with a little trepidation, but most dug in for seconds, because it was really good.

Then we loaded up for the second church service of the day.  We drove about twenty minutes outside of Hinche in the countryside. We looked like a caravan of gypsies, with people hanging off trucks and packed into cars. Nine little girls were in the back of our Montero alone, in addition to the five adults in the two seats. Lydia, Kelly, Ursula, and Adam had their first open-air truck ride in Haiti; Julian and Philip prudently rode with Pere Walin.

This service took place in a rural area down a road that jostled us into silence. We passed an open-sided, open-air evangelical Baptist church made of posts with a banana leaf roof. About twenty or so people were gathered in that structure. We continued driving, passing very rustic huts and homemade tents of banana leaves--lean-tos, really. In front of each gathered the members of the family, along with their animals.

Up a little hill on a large, flat plateau was a good-sized green and yellow tent, its fabric roof billowing in the breeze. Stamped on its top was Lutheran World Relief. The letters appeared reversed throughout the service--I found myself looking at them again and again, wondering if the donors had any idea how well their gift had been put to use. I pictured high schoolers holding bake sales, widows donating $25 from their Social Security checks, and sixth graders offering money from pet-sitting jobs.

Inside, out of the hot sun courtesy of the Lutheran tent, a hundred or more Haitians waited patiently for Pere Walin to arrive. He purchased the land for this congregation after the earthquake in part with funds sent for his own family's needs. He is currently seeking a partner to create a school for these people, in the same way that St. Stephen's in Austin helped create St. Etienne. Until that day comes, these children may be unschooled (as there are no public schools this far out) and perhaps unfed, as school meals provide food security for many Haitian children, as meals are provided.

People from infants to the quite elderly waited for the Anglican service to start. Our vehicles were the only ones there; all of the congregants had walked for upwards of an hour, depending on their location, with children in tow and babies and toddlers on their hips.

Across from the tent, about half a football field away, a separate tent was set up with a Pentecostal preacher speaking into a bull horn. The Episcopal service started with sounds of the Pentecostal preacher offering his own message.

Pere Walin had brought a portable sound system; in addition, people brought in handhewn wooden pews, chairs, and boxes for seating. A little toddler was alseep on the floor, stretched out in her blue Sunday dress and pretty socks. Many mothers had babies in arms; at least twenty small children were present, with a good number of older children and teenagers. Our arrival attracted great interest and men carried benches for us to sit on.

This service was an interesting contrast to the first one. All of the elements were the same, but with the rustic setting, no trappings of a formal church building, and a smaller space, Pere Wallins adopted a casual, conversational tone with the congregation. Again he preached a sermon; again he performed the rite of eucharist; again James led the congregation in singing.

Pere Walin introduced Johnny, as he had before. Johnny explained that we would be taking pictures to remember that Haitian people by, and also that our kids would love to play soccer with the Haitian kids. When he announced that he had brought an accordion for that congregation, the whole room erupted with applause and shouts.

After the introduction of Johnny and each of us by name came the traditional passing of the peace. Haitian after Haitian came to shake our hands and greet us. One particularly memorable greeter was a small girl, maybe four or five, in a very fancy lime green dress, who solemnly walked around and shook hands with every single person in the tent. (She's sitting on Kelly's lap.)

One of the things that struck me was what a communal and happy experience church was. People were there because they wanted to be there, and they had journeyed to get there, too. They were not there networking for contacts for their start-ups, and they weren't there out of sheer force of habit--there was just too much effort required to be at church for attendance to be a casual thing. They were there to praise Seigneur (the Lord) for their blessings and to gather 
as a community of faith despite extreme hardship.

At the close of the service, children posed for pictures--shyly at first, then eagerly-- and laughed and pointed when they saw their faces in the digital camera windows. Family groups stood for pictures, and even elderly men and women asked to have pictures made. Several aspiring models came back repeatedly because they loved the experience so much.  Some of our visitors: three little girls in matching spring green outfits, a sleepy baby with a protruding umbilical hernia held by her proud young mother, several dignified older women wearing hats, an older gentlemen missing his two front teeth, a baby with brightly colored barrettes framing her beautiful face.

Inside the tent, Adam and Lydia snapped pictures, while Kelly and Ursula played with little children. Outside, Julian and Philip raced about in the blazing sun holding up the honor of St. Stephen's and America in general in a short but fierce soccer match.

When we left, people gathered round to wave goodbye.

We went back the way we came. Along the way we passed four young boys, none older than perhaps six, with water jugs on their heads, probably from getting water from a local creek. We saw naked toddlers crouched around charcoal fires. We saw a tiny girl holding a chicken.

In Mountains beyond Mountains, Tracy Kidder writes that the rural people of the central plateau of Haiti are the poorest people in the poorest region of the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere. As we drove back, we had glimpses of this poverty. In contrast to material poverty, we also saw glimpses of dignity and a plentiful abundance and wealth in faith and community.