A reflection on religion of all kinds

Indonesia is what is called an archipelago nation, which is a fancy way of saying it is made up of many islands formed from volcanoes.  It is actually 17,508 islands, though the people only live on 6000 of them.  Like many countries in the world, they are also divided into many tribes.  Sometimes it is only one tribe on an island, and sometimes with the larger islands, there are many tribes.  In recent years, the Catholic Church has tried to support the Catholics in their tribal identity and where possible (usually once a month) offer inculturated masses in local languages.  It is not possible to do this for every language since there are over 700 active languages, but certainly It happens with the larger tribes (such as Jawa, Manggarai, Dawan, and Tetun). 

I was able in Yogyakarta to participate in a Mass offered in the Jawa language (the predominant tribe from the island of Java).  The church was almost full, even though Mass starts at 5 am , which is what they have to do to have a Mass in their native language, as the rest of the morning will be masses in Indonesian.  The sounds of this language are soft, as are the voices of the people, and a gentle blend of sounds that feel a little like mixing French and Indonesian.  Even though I was unable to understand a single word in this language because there are no words from Latin roots, I was profoundly moved.  I was moved because I could feel the people knew they were at something very special, having the opportunity to worship God in their mother tongue, and I realized how often I take that gift for granted.  I was moved too because at the moment the Consecrated Bread was raised, they did not bow, as I thought all Asians did, but while seated they raised their praying hands to their foreheads with such a reverence that even the crying babies became quiet.  With words I don’t understand and without words, they somehow showed me even more how special God is.   

Whereas Muslims make up almost 90% of the population, they are not the majority everywhere.  Indonesia’s most famous Island, Bali, is almost completely Hindu.  And whereas only 4% of Indonesia is Catholic, the island of Flores and our neighbor East Timor are nearly all Catholic.  In my city, Kupang City, the majority are non-denominational Christians and about 15% of these are Catholic.  This means, in my neighborhood, I do not hear the Muslim call to prayer as I did in Yogyakarta since we were surrounded by 5 mosques.  At times, this call to prayer, delivered over loud speakers to the entire area, was louder than our prayers inside the chapel and during their holy celebrations, we are not able to do our rosary outside in our Mary garden, as we cannot hear our prayers.

I have found one blessing in this time from our Muslim brothers and sisters and that is they understand very well what St Paul encouraged in the early church, that is, “to pray without ceasing.” (1 Thes 5:17)  The call to prayer is a constant rhythm you cannot ignore in Muslim society even if you wanted to.  It is easy to be annoyed by a blasting noise, especially if you like the quiet.  At times, it is hard to see the call to prayer as an invitation, when it feels more like an imposition, but, in time, with a little maturity in faith, one cannot help to use their call to prayer to remind us to pray.  With a little more time, I think, you can even find yourself reminded I should not just pray in those moments when some call from outside asks you to pray but I should listen to the call from God inside myself. 

Sometimes it is easy to pray frequently, like when we are in difficulties, we are always in prayer.  More difficult, I think, is to pray every time we get a blessing.  Sure we pray at meals, but do we thank God for snacks?  Do we thank God for a candy bar or a cup of coffee? Sure, we thank God every morning and night, but do I thank God at 3pm ?(the hour he died for us)   or when I go into work or school?  Do I thank God for deadlines or homework and tests?  As hard as they are, someone else does not have these blessings; some children never get to go to school, some people have no work or some people, including children, have to work 14 hours every day.  I remember in Bolivia the candy sellers were always children , some being only 5 years old, and I was amazed how our children in the US cannot count in 4th grade and yet these children, even if by necessity, were able to count any amount of money and give change. 

It is easy for us, I think to pray for our friends and our family.  More difficult is it to pray for strangers and even more difficult is it to pray for our enemies.  We all pray for the victims of tragedies, but can we pray for the tragedies we don’t hear about in the news?  Someone in the world needs our prayers at every moment. 

If I prayed every time a mosquito bit me or every time I thought to myself, “it is hot today”, I might be praying more than 50 times a day.  I still don’t see the heat and mosquitos as blessings, but this experience of mission and the Muslim call to prayer,  reminds me to be faithful to the words of St. Paul “to pray without ceasing.”  And now, after thinking about it, even the mosquito biting me right now is reminding me to pray, I guess there is a blessing in mosquitos after all.