Realizing Ash Wednesday was fast approaching only on Monday, I had limited time to do what I've been meaning to for some time: research the church options in Hyderabad. Before we left, I emailed the one Anglican church I found with a website, and that pastor wrote me back with two other Anglican church names. Given the limited time frame, I figured that was a good place to start.
Since traffic here can be horrendous at times, and not having any other criteria to go by, I chose which church of the three to try solely based on location. It was a simple choice, really: one was less than 2km from the office and, a phone call from a local staff at the office on my behalf determined there would be an English-language service at 7AM. I tried calling, but speaking in foreign languages over the phone is still a little beyond me. Greg and William decided to sit out this adventure.
My driver from the consulate eventually found the church (addresses here are not precise) far back from the main road, nestled into a very residential community. My guess would be that most people living in the neighborhood attend that church, actually. I walked through a tall but rusty gate, through a dusty courtyard, following women in pale orange saris who my driver assured me were some type of nun and thus definitely going to a church. I did quickly find myself in a very simple church - not even glass on the windows.
When I arrived at 10 of seven, a few single men and women were sparsely seated throughout the church, and then nuns in either white habits or the pale orange saris were seated mostly together towards the front. Even in India people avoid the front pews! I tried to inconspicuously take a seat in the middle, but honestly given my apperance, anything I do is pretty obvious. I enjoyed the calm sound of the ceiling fans and the birds, waiting for the service to start. Some elaborately adorned saint dolls were in cases in the front surrounded by somoe electric candles and christmas lights, framed pictures of the stations of the cross hung on the walls, and then there was an alter and a crucifix. Otherwise, the sanctuary was devoid of ornamentation.
People continued to file in and by the time the three priests came down the aisle, I was surprised that every pew was full and people were standing in the back - there must have been over 150 people in this small, simple space. A few families, but it appeared to be predominately single people. Some women used their scarves to cover their heads, others didn't. But everyone was very quiet - pretty unusual here.
The service progressed as most Ash Wednesday services do. When it came time for the Lord's Prayer, I confirmed what I had been suspecting after seeing the crucifix - it was a Catholic, not Anglican church. Not a problem to receive the ashes, but I was glad to know before I went to receive communion. As with most services, though, the Catholic and Anglican service order are so similar that I still felt "at home." The only books in the church were bibles, so prayer words and hymns were projected on a screen at the front which, along with the guitar and sythesizer, was the only indication this worship was taking place in the 21st century.
After the service ended and the priests processed out, people stayed for quiet meditation and left the sanctuary as the spirit moved them. As I sat thinking about my surroundings and the service just experienced, it struck me that even without all the creature comforts of a US church, this congregation seemed alive. No matter that there were no kneeling cushions (let alone hand-stiched ones with custom designs) or air conditioning - the people were there to say the words that Catholics (and close enough words to those of the Anglicans) around the world were repeting on that same day. The globalness of religion, and the basic beliefs that tie people together, hit home that morning. Everything else that causes drama in churches is extraneous and detracts from why one should choose to worship.
Later at the office, I educated everyone on Ash Wednesday - even some of the American officers! People were really concerned about the smudge on my head :) After giving the brief explanation behind the tradition, I also told people how refreshing it was that even a simple church could provide a moving and meaningful experience.
2 comments:
It sounds like a lovely experience. Isn't it surprising how the most memorable occasions often are the small, unexpected ones.
Tom and I attended church in China just before Christmas, and we found a similar experience. Worship can draw a very diverse group together.
Tommy was born on Ash Wednesday. Tom and I don't observe that tradition, but we were among the few in that catholic hospital on Tommy's birthday who did not have ashes applied. I always think of Tommy's birth when I see the ashes.
Sounds like a very nice experience, thank you for sharing it.
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