Journal entry 7/11/10

I will write about going to church today, since it isn’t something I have done in Suss yet and that’s about the only noteworthy thing that happened this Sunday.

I don’t really know why I decided to go, it was a kind of perfect storm of events. I guess the main reason is this pastor has been bothering me to go since the time I met him way back when I was still running by my old house. He sent me a funny text message yesterday: “I want to say halo dave I am longing for you can I invite you tomorrow for a Sunday church plz dave”. The guy was longing for me. How can I not go to his sermon?

So I got there at 10:00 this morning – the church is actually attached to the police station – and before I entered the building I could hear the chanting. There were four people inside pacing back and forth with eyes closed, saying some prayers or something rapidly in Shona and Portuguese. More people showed up and started chanting. It was kind of creepy being in an echo-y building with people chanting, not really sure what was being said.

Next there were a lot of Hallelujahs. They don’t get tired of them. Pastor Magara introduced me to everyone (there were maybe 30 people) and thanked me. Then he started preaching. It was interesting that there were three languages being used – Shona mostly, but it was being translated into Portuguese by a helper, and also Magara kept throwing in some English here and there. Trilingual sermons - something you don’t see in the US.

As the minutes trudged on my mind began to wander, although I was trying to pay attention to the Portuguese translation to improve my listening. However I couldn’t help thinking about other things. One thing that leapt out at me was that the Shona word for church is, well, church (or chuch). So this would imply that there were no churches here before the Europeans arrived. I wonder if Magara or anyone else has thought about this before. It seems a little ironic that they are having the sermon in Shona but no one stops to think that, although they are using their mother tongue, this is not their mother religion (traditional, that is). Reminds me of the time in Namaacha when I was looking through my host father’s illustrated bible which was written in Shona but all of the people in it were white.

I was also thinking about how the belief of an individual is really a product of a person’s upbringing. Here I am, an atheist in a church, everyone else is a devout believer. I can’t see why people would do otherwise though, because we are humans and we do what our family and our community does. If a kid sees his mom and community members in church every Sunday, why wouldn’t he do the same? We all need to belong.

But for some reason, be it an accident or a new culture of un-believers, I do not believe in God. Maybe I found a way to belong to something outside of believing in God. (I can think of one friend in kindergarten who didn’t believe in God, thanks Evan.)

Sometimes I do envy people who believe in God. In my life I want to have a wide range of experiences, but I’m thinking believing is not one I will have the pleasure to enjoy. I looked around the church and some people were just so happy, so emotional. One woman was brought to tears while chanting. However believing can probably bring about problems as well, namely confusion and horrible inconsistency. Anyway it doesn’t matter either way for me at least. I am set in my ways and am incapable, as far as I know, of changing. Even if I truly wanted to believe, the problem is I am so sure I’m right.

So by the end of the sermon my head hurt from trying to understand the Portuguese translation and I had Magara’s voice ringing in my ears. When I commented to Chris that maybe Pastors speak so loud because it is the power of God, Chris disagreed and said it’s because “they think that God is so far away”. Hah! After Magara blessed a bunch of people it was just about time to leave, but first he had to ask me something. Magara spoke to everyone and thanked me multiple times for coming, then he said he had discussed with his helper how great it would be if I could give sermons because white people are so respected here. He asked if I would work with him, giving sermons. I was thunderstruck… I’m also positive I’ve told Magara I don’t believe in Jesus. I declined and said I wasn’t the right man for the job but thank you for the offer.

So that’s the story of how I failed at religious revival but was offered to become a pastor in the process.