A Church I Can Believe In.

His voice echoed agains the walls as he began his sermon, reverberating against the golden pillars and through the glass protecting ornately decorated ecclesiastical statues. Slightly muffled by the low quality microphone, the deep and somewhat monotone voice was difficult to understand as he discussed Corpus Christi and the transubstantiation of the bread and wine. My mind wondered, dazed with a long night's sleep the night before. My Spanish brain was not working as well as it should have and the content seemed like sermons I had heard before. A piece of soft sheer vanilla-colored fabric attracted my eye as a breeze, from some unknown origin, lifted and spread it out in front of the congregation like a sail that had just caught wind. Several large pieces of fabric, cream and wine colored, decorated the aged walls of the Cathedral. The breeze gently caused them to dance, fluttering like the wings of a butterfly, in and out of the view of the church goers. One brave soul attempted to tame these delicate beasts but unsuccessfully resigned to their presence over and sometimes touching his head.

As I sat distracted and feeling uneasy with the amount of wealth and treasure that adorned the walls, a woman nearly in front of me fanned herself with the church bulletin. From outside, the sound of an ice cream salesman's bell harmonized with the priest's resounding tone. A baby cried in the back of the church and then a shuffling of chairs to allow the mother to stand and walk with her child up and down the aisles. I repositioned myself against the back of my pew which seemed to be designed at a ninety degree angle to keep anyone from slouching even in the slightest. As a variety of sounds from a distant car alarm burst through the open doors of the church; the flames of the candles covering the altar seemed to shiver at the intrusion into the solemn and respectful space.

"...el descubrimiento de la corrupción organizada en entidades estatales..."

"Guatemala Pains Us"

The word corrupción immediately caught my attention since corruption has be a main topic in the political discourse over the past few weeks here in Guatemala as the country approaches presidential elections this fall. As my ears were redirected to the priests words, his tone and energy shifted from somewhat monotone and obligatory to animated and passionate. It seems the content of his homily had shifted to something a bit more timely and political. I was interested to see how involved the sermon would be in making commentary on the political situation of Guatemala. At first it seemed more informative than opinionated, providing information that recounted the scandal of the Vice President as well as other high level officials who had been embezzling money through a variety of sources. I thought it might simply be a public service announcement to make sure the church was aware that the rich had stolen from the poor – an ironic public service announcement at that, seeing as it was given from a pulpit and altar decorated in gold and jewels. It turns out, instead, he was actually attempting to bring to life the content of a communication, found on the back of our bulletin, from the Episcopal Conference of Guatemala, a conference of bishops that had both opinions and advice for their flock.

The priest passionately and pointedly describes the tumultuous and broken system of political parties and bureaucracy that faces Guatemala, "...un deterioro profundo del sistema político guatemalteco". He began to criticize all the political parties for disregarding the needs of the people and only playing

political and economic

games, claiming they "...surgen y desaparecen en ciclos breves, se caracterizan más por la personalidad de quien los organiza y menos por la propuesta política que los inspira". He blatantly describes the disenfranchised people and a skeptical mentality that prevents many from participating in the political process. But he also commiserates with them, recognizing that their options, as they stand now, are between bad and worse. But, he says, this is why there have been "manifestaciones multitudinarias que expresan..." the indignation and wrath of many citizens. He proclaims that the demands of the protests and demonstrations in the streets across the country over the past few weeks, which have only been peaceful, must be answered and resolved immediately.

Additional to this demand of the government, he reminds his people that they are also responsible for the situation of their country.  When it rains, "las calles en Antigua están inundadas por la culpa de ministerio publico..."  but the roads are also flooded because the people continuously throw trash into the drains. He reminds his congregation that, as Christians, they must participate and support their country in a governmental process that resolves issues like child malnutrition, corruption, and poverty. He challenges them to confront the false christians who are stealing from the Guatemalan people, to not stand with "brazos cruzados," and instead ask what they can do to decrease corruption and improve the political stability of their country. Because they, as Christians, do not place their faith in a political party, not in a candidate, but instead in "...el amor de Cristo Jesus." 

His tone and emotion had reached out and pulled every eye toward him, seeking to not only move the soul but also the body. It almost felt appropriate to stand up and clap at the end, but no one did. As the priest left the podium and the mass continued, my companion, Juliana, leaned over to my ear and said quite matter-of-factly while nodding her head, "una charla tan buena."

How amazing to see the church taking an active role in the political support of its people, supporting, not a party, not a candidate, but the people and their needs as a whole. This was not a call to believe or passively live morally well, instead it was a stimulation of action, a fanning of the fire for change, an instigation for the pursuit of justice, and a reminder of the value of peace. This was a church I could feel a part of, even with a physical appearance that so contradicted  the message it sought to proclaim. I could feel welcomed in an institution that stood by what that priest had offered to his people. At least for this moment, for that hour, my beliefs and understandings of the world greatly coincided with this institution that is often so complex and convoluted. I felt at home within those walls, even though I absolutely would have decorated them differently.

As I stepped out into the street after mass had ended, navigating the cobblestone stairs, I felt rejuvenated and hopeful. I felt that the world could change, and that it just might. In that moment, I turned to Juliana and said, "Esa, esa es mi iglesia."

That, what I had just heard, is a church I can believe in.