Songs at Christmas

I have now celebrated my "first Christmas away from home." Home is quite relative, as Honduras is now the fifth country where I have celebrated Christmas.  Home for Christmas has always been wherever my immediate family has been, wherever that has happened to be.  So although I call La Campa home these days, it's not quite "home for Christmas".  Yes, we are "in the bleak midwinter," but not "walking in a winter wonderland."  A Honduran midwinter still involves enough sunny days where I can sit outside in a t-shirt and enjoy a guava or two.  And it is pointless to be "dreaming of a white Christmas" given that the temperature has not dropped below 10.5C (although a respected man in the community told me a few weeks ago that the drizzle was not water, but ice; the air temperature was a steady, but chilly, 15C!).  

Thanks to the waning moon and the dry season, the "midnight clear" allows for plenty of "wondrous stars" to "lend thy light."  Orion, Cassiopeia, and the Milky Way shine clear and bright, not obscured by any light pollution.  And when the power goes out, the light they lend is both beautiful and necessary.

Firecrackers and noisemakers are popular, so on Christmas Eve their noise echoed off the surrounding cliffs and mountains: "Go tell it on the mountain!!!"  

Every night for the eight nights before Christmas, Mary and Joseph and members of the community have gone to different houses, and singing, ask to be let in.  Through song, the residents decline at first, but then relent, and "welcome the traveler home."  Then with about 40 people present, there is an hour long service based on the rosary.  I can now say the Hail Mary in Spanish, can almost say the Lord's Prayer, but am still working on the Creed.  I only went two nights, plus Christmas Eve, but Doña Tona helped lead, and so went every night.

On Christmas Eve, every family makes tamales.  What a commotion of preparation!  Huge quantities of corn was boiled and ground, banana leaves wrapped, delivered, and steamed.  The chickens killed (I missed the death of Doña Tona's chicken, but saw its dismemberment.  Which chicken was it? The one that let all 10 of her chicks die within 2 days of hatching? The one that pooped on my clean towel as it was drying on the line?  Not Maurice Aureliano, as he still wakes me up every morning with his vigorous crowing.)

In between firecrackers, Christmas Eve was calm, but not bright.  Apparently, too many people put up Christmas lights at this time of year, needing more electricity than is available.  So all week, La Campa had rolling blackouts for about 45 minutes sometime between 6 and 7 pm to allow the city dwellers to enjoy their colourful lights.  On Christmas Eve, the power was out for over 2 hours, so the final rosary service was a true candlelight service, which was beautiful.  Mass was held at 8:30, and went until 11.  I made it until 10:30, at which point I went to bed.  

Christmas Eve is the important day here, not Christmas Day.  Besides having tamales for breakfast, and going to mass again in the morning, I would not have realized it was Christmas.  Tamales for breakfast, by the way, feels a bit weird.

All in all, Christmas was very tranquila.  A very relaxing time, not at all like the hustle and bustle that seems to be inherent in a North American Christmas.  No gifts were exchanged, families made tamales together, church was the central focus.  Different, but good.

Joy to the world, the Lord is come!

Language

Ever since I was accepted to SALT and knew I was going to Honduras, I have been preoccupied with language. I studied Spanish, dreamed about Spanish, worried about Spanish... After all, I studied French from grade 5 through to university (9 years!), and was still only at an 'intermediate' level. Well, there is something to be said for immersion. Yes, I studied Spanish before coming to Honduras, but that really meant very little in the grand scheme of things. I have now been in Honduras for 4 months (and 1 day!), and am further ahead in Spanish than I ever was in French. My host family and coworkers have commented that I have improved in Spanish, which makes me feel quite happy.

To confess, I never used to like the Spanish language. It felt weird to my ears, and I didn't feel any inclination to learn it. Luckily, this has passed! There are a number of words that I really like, or am fascinated by, including:

1) Ojalá - I think this is my favourite word of all, partly due to its etymology. Many centuries ago, people that spoke Arabic and people that spoke Spanish both lived in the same location (current-day Spain). And so, of course, the languages mingled a bit, and there are many words in Spanish that have Arabic origins. If you remember that in Spanish, 'j' is pronounced like an English 'h', and that you emphasize the vowel with the accent, it is easy to hear 'Allah' in Ojalá. Ojalá means "I hope that" or "I wish that", but it comes from the idea of "God willing that". Ojalá que mañana no hace frio! (Ojalá, tomorrow will not be cold!)

2) Esperanza - This word has two meanings in English: hope and wait. And in this time of Advent, I love thinking of how hoping and waiting are so integrated that only one word is needed.

3) Historia - Similarly, historia means history and story. And really, history is a story, which changes depending on the interpreter.

4) Divertido(a) - This word just makes me chuckle, since I have read too much Jane Austen. Divertido means fun. Jane Austen's heroines have a tendency to say things like, "I am excessively diverted!"

5) Madrugar - This verb means to get up earlier than everybody else. I like that an entire phrase can be condensed into one word!

On an unrelated note, my three weeks of Christmas holidays have begun. I am currently awaiting the visit of two fellow MCC yearlings. Ojalá, their trip from Tegucigalpa will not be anything like my trip there!

Church

In La Campa there are four church buildings and three congregations. Or should I say there are four meeting houses and three churches? Two are Catholic, and two are Evangelical – the two main denominational distinctions in Honduras as far as I can tell. We have two active Evangelical congregations and one active Catholic congregation in La Campa, although the Catholic congregation is more than double the size of the two Evangelical congregations put together. The fourth meeting house is Catholic, but has been vacant for years and is being slowly weathered away in a beautiful manner.

When I arrived in La Campa, I determined that I would attend an Evangelical church, although my host family is Catholic. The previous SALTer in my position lived with the pastor of one of these churches, so I figured that would be a good one to attend. I was very challenged by the experience there, and the other Evangelical church is not much different. The walls were mostly bare, except for a quote from Proverbs, a quote from the pastor, a letter endorsing the pastor, and the schedule of worship which included a quote from Hebrews 13:17, which said “Obey your pastors and submit to them.” I also felt awkward jumping up and down at the beginning of the service to demonstrate our joy of worship, and meandering songs which each had the same three chords from an electric bass guitar and one drum rhythm. I have been spoiled by the wonderful musical gifts at BMC! Although I was not able to feel comfortable worshiping God in that context, it is obvious that many do. So take my comments with a grain of salt.

So in mid-November, I decided I would try attending the Catholic church with my host family. Most of my exposure to Catholicism has been through the Martyr’s Mirror and through news reports, neither of which is very positive. So I’ve set about trying to remedy this lack in my education. I read a fascinating book called “Why be Catholic?” by Richard Rohr, which covered some of the basics of the good and bad of Catholic history, as well as its relevance in modern American society. And through attending mass for the past several weeks, I have come to appreciate a lot more about Catholicism. Let me try and describe my experiences here:

The service begins with the priest and 12 young people (about half boys and half girls) processing in carrying the cross, bible, candles and sometimes incense. The young people help during the service, and wear white robes. The priest also has a white robe, but he also has a coloured over-robe – right now it is purple, for Advent. After a welcome, the priest shares joys and concerns of the community. We then confess our sins as a community (including what we have said, what we have done, what we have left undone). Then comes three scripture readings: two by congregants, but the Gospel is read by the priest, who then preaches. His sermons are always very wide-ranging, from what I can understand, and sometimes I wonder why he brought a particular point. But I think that the purpose of his sermons is not only to comment on the scriptures, but also to bring in a bit more of a broader perspective from outside of La Campa. He has a very important job, in that it is through him that most people understand what is happening around them. Most adults here have had a very limited education, and in a sense, the priest provides a form of adult education through his sermons. This is conjecture, as I have not yet understood an entire sermon, but is based on several weeks of partial understanding.

After the sermon comes the offering, which is in several parts. Various congregants bring candles, flowers, fruit, bible, bread and wine to the altar, as our offering to God. Then the rest of the congregation has the opportunity to tithe our money. Then we share the peace of Christ, which is one of my favourite parts of the service. While singing, everybody hugs or shakes the hand of their neighbour. All the children go up to the front for a hug and blessing from the priest, and a number of adults go too. We confess our belief through the Apostle’s Creed, and pray as Jesus taught us (“Padre nuestro, que estás en el cielo”). With a final blessing from the priest, and a final song (other songs are scattered throughout the ser vice), the service ends.

I have been struck by the emphasis on community that I see at church, and that I read in Rohr’s book. In this context, it is as strong an emphasis as I have experienced in the Mennonite church. Musically, there is less emphasis on instruments as on the lifted voices of the people.

I enjoy looking around the church (building and people). The front couple of rows are always filled with little old ladies (my host grandmother among them; sadly, the abuela can’t come to church anymore). Most of them bring a candle to light during the service, as well as a black lace shawl to cover their heads. If they don’t have a shawl, they bring a towel for the same purpose. At the front of the sanctuary are three statues of Jesus, including one on the cross, two statues of San Matías, the patron saint of the parish, and a picture of the Virgin Mary. Along the side walls are the Stations of the Cross, two statues of Mary, one of Jesus, one of San Matías, and a large painting showing (I presume) heaven and hell. It sounds like an overwhelming amount of images, especially compared to the relative plainness of a Mennonite church. But it all somehow fits together.

PS As I write this, I am wearing two pairs of pants, two sweaters, one jacket and a scarf around my head. El norte has returned with a vengeance!