Sunday, July 1: Church and the Tree of Life

It is not often a tour book recommends you attend church while vacationing, but the one we picked up at the library did.  The reasons? Just about everything else will be closed on Sunday, and the islanders are known for their beautiful harmonizing.

That typically is not our motivation for making it to church on a Sunday morning, but when today dawned rainy, rainy and rainy, we were a little uncertain about trying to walk the half hour to the church we had already selected.  The fact that the tour book recommended it, though, kept us watching the weather. It also had said churches were very welcoming to visitors, but we weren't sure how welcoming they would be to dripping wet guests wearing the closest thing to approved Sunday clothes we had thought to bring. (The tour book recommended wearing close-toed shoes... our only close-toed shoes happen to be the ones caked in red mud from our slide down the mountain on Friday.)

But as "we really need to start if we are going to make it" time approached, the skies cleared enough we didn't even need the umbrella. Of course, we were not about to let CutieBabyBoy walk on his own and thus guarantee a plentiful mud distribution, so we were gearing up for a somewhat arduous push to make it to church on time.

We were slowing to let a flatbed truck pass us well before bouncing through a monstrous puddle, when the driver leaned out and asked if we wanted a lift.  We did a quick assessment of his looks and the cleanliness of the plywood forming the truck bed. What did we have to lose?

The church was constructed using coral.

So we climbed up the back with our feet hanging over the end. We weren't even going to show up sweaty!

We had the driver drop us at the nearest bus stop and walked the rest of the way at a far more leisurely pace. As we turned the corner and had the church in view, we began to feel a little out of place. The tour book had mentioned that nearly every woman wears a great big Sunday hat... it had neglected to mention that everyone also wears white.

Frankly, I can't even figure out how people manage that. I've seen the disastrous effects a motorcycle ride after a rain can have on someone. How do so many manage to hop off their motorcycles with their pristine white dresses and large-brimmed hats and look so perfectly ready for church?

We settled into the back row of the church, anticipating the need for a quick getaway and trying to attract the least amount of attention. I had been expecting the majority of the service to be in English, just because everyone seems so comfortable in it (and the founding families came from England), but instead only the briefest of words, songs, and Scripture reading were in English. The service was obviously, first and foremost for the congregants. And I am glad of that.

Such a privilege to be welcomed into something that once while foreign, has now been made distinctly, completely native. This sense of wonder increased when the entire congregation blended their voices in the harmonization they have come to be known for in the Maori version of "Holy, Holy, Holy." So absolutely beautiful.

There was one more magnificent surprise for me: The Lord's Supper. I had to step out in the middle of it because CutieBabyBoy began to fuss, but the ushers still sought me out to offer me the cup. A liturgy oh-so-familiar except for the language. A tradition so full of meaning; the bread broken, the cup blessed. As the little cup was given to me, I noticed the utter lack of color and wondered whether I had been served white wine. What other "fruit of the vine" could be so clear?

Coconut Water.

The cemetery surrounding the church.

I nearly laughed outright when I realized what it was. How perfect! How completely appropriate for this island nation. The coconut palm is considered the tree of life here. Every part of it is used by the islanders, and the healing, nurturing aspects are gaining momentum in the natural-health fad of the United States.

Afterwards, all visitors were invited to a little reception. I had been hoping more islanders would stay to visit, but instead it was all us tourists with just a few locals to keep an eye on the serving platters. One tourist was outrightly offensive in her belligerent attempt to engage SOS in a theological fight. If that is a frequent occurrence, no wonder people make a quick getaway.

We finally walked out on her, and were glad for a leisurely walk home in warm sun showers to help restore our previous good humor.