The Pastor

Two Sundays ago, I attended church service for the first time, outside Christmas, weddings or funerals, in at least a couple years – probably since college. I graduated in 2005, for those wondering. It was amazing in so many ways, I have been trying to determine the best way to write about it… and I still haven't, but here goes anyway.

GEF's Kenya Director is a pastor – so in this entry I will refer to him as 'Pastor'. He founded Candlelight Ministries. This Sunday marked the first service of the newest Candlelight Ministries Church; there are now over 5, including two in Tanzania. We drove up to the new church in our Sunday best; everybody here dresses very formally, all the time (i.e. button up shirts, long sleeves, slacks and ties, almost every day of the week regardless of profession – no shorts, unless you are playing football ['soccer'] or getting ready for bed). The church facility was a vacated retail shop, with graffiti still on the inner walls, reading "Afrika's Most Wanted" and "Thug Life", among others. The graffiti would make much more sense to you if you had ridden matatus; I hope to explain that experience better because it is also amazing, but basically on the vans/busses that serve as the only means of public transportation, they blast rap and hip hop and "pimp them out" like West Coast Customs as best they can, obviously idolizing the violent sub-culture of many rap artists, and even the Somali pirates, through the graffiti that takes up every spare inch of space. The graffiti was the second thing I noticed; it was hard to miss the noise emanating from this ~7 meter x ~7 meter vacated retail space. The choir of 3-4 people was Praising the Lord with all their hearts and throats, singing different songs or chanting at the same time, all through their own microphones with the amplifier turned up to 11. And there was a keyboard. It was intense, but not atypical, as I have now heard the same static, unharmonious echoes billowing out of many other corrugated aluminum buildings serving as places of worship since I have been here. It is clear, in Kenya, God must have damaged eardrums, be inattentive or be very, very far away.

After about 20-30 minutes of song, both in English and Kiswahili (the way most Kenyans use both interchangeably is very neat), the music stopped as it was time to introduce the new pastor (not the Pastor, this is the head of this one church specifically, so we'll call him 'New Pastor'). In between the "Praise God's" and the "Hallelujah's" - and the necessary response of "Amen" – "can someone give Him G-L-O-R-Y!?!, I couldn't HEAR YOU!" – "AMEN!" – came New Pastor's first sermon to his flock of roughly 15. It could have been titled, "Why We Tithe," or even "Give Me Money." The only handout this week was in fact a full sheet of citations in the bible that outline why, how much, and under what circumstances (i.e. all circumstances) we should give to the church. If you give to the church, requiring no transparency or real public service, God will 'Bless' your health, business, finances, family, etc. That was his only message; believe me, I was hoping for so much more after such an epic introduction… the choir may very well have not been able to speak on Monday. Though I do not feel I have a commitment or obligation to any specific church, I do recognize the undeniably positive impact many churches have in their communities; their ability to motivate, mobilize, inspire, instill values, educate and console is really irreplaceable in many cultures. This, though, was turning out to be the embodiment of what I hate most about organized religion; the exploitation of people's greatest hopes and fears through the indoctrination of the masses, often for obvious personal benefit. It reeked of indulgences of the olden days, and modern day evangelicals who desire diamonds and who promise a powerful ministry that can cure cancer, cause the blind to see or the paralyzed to stand. The vultures were circling - I was dismayed.

They took the time after the New Pastor's 'lesson' to bring up all the new faces in front of the congregation to introduce themselves. This meant me. I was handed a microphone, and asked to say a few words. I said, "Habari [Hello], Mimi ni Robert [I am Robert], and I am from the state of Colorado in the United States. Where I am from, we worship god quietly. Here, you worship very loudly. Thanks." They looked at me; a couple clapped. The second person who introduced herself spoke much longer, in Kiswahili so I couldn't understand. The congregation seemed much more please with her words than mine.

After passing around a collection bucket, in which I threw $10 USD dollars and the congregation took turns looking in, seeing it, dropping his or her jaw, and pointing in the bucket while muttering something in Kiswahili to their neighbors about the mzungu, the New Pastor kindly introduced the Pastor, as Bishop Pastor. I was impressed… Bishop did seem his accurate title. The first thing Pastor did was deny the microphone. "This place is small enough where I believe I can use my natural amplifiers. Can you all hear me?" He yelled. Everyone replied, "Ndiyo [yes]" in unison. The Pastor then began to renew my faith in church by giving one of the best sermons I have ever heard.

He spoke powerfully and started in Genesis (new church starting with Genesis, OK I think this guy gets it), and ended with the New Testament. He spoke logically of empowerment, responsibility, of being the "Light" that all plants [people] bend towards, the "Salt" that makes the earth [life] sweeter, and tried to show others the divine path of purposeful community building with love and peace. He spoke of cherishing what you have, not of giving in order to get more. He did it with a foundation in scripture, and with analogies that everybody could understand. About half way through, I couldn't hold back the tears… the kind that kept coming back even after the Pastor stopped speaking. This message made me feel nostalgic; for I have known and seen it before, at 4^th, in school, at St. John's in Boulder. The Pastor clearly represents and teaches everything that I admire and miss most about church. He lives this message, in the schools and churches he founds, the orphanage he runs, the family he raises with his wife (equally as amazing), and his selfless commitment to those around him. It feels amazing staying in his house, and helping him with his work, at whatever capacity I can.

After he spoke, everyone was immediately more aware of their surroundings – they spoke quietly, without microphones, and closed the service quickly while each member of the congregation, including the New Pastor, was clearly in the midst of as much deep contemplation as I was (most without the tears – I am a wimp). The Pastor just held his 14 month old baby girl, bouncing her gently while in his seat, as she was now soundly asleep on his shoulder…