Thursdays and Sundays are church days for me and every other Iglesia Ni Cristo members. Today, I’ve learned that shouting into a mic is not advisable when you have speakers attached to every corner of the room. [I tried counting once & I think that there are about 50 mini-speakers hanging on every wall.] In our church, the choir members are seated behind the minister facin’ the ordinary churchgoers. That’s why you cannot not look at them. I know the choir group observes us from their place too –innocent looking they may be in their white robes. How else can ma friend, the “choir s0nger” know I’m sleepin’? Before the two-hour mass ends, comes the most important part of the mass: the minister blessing us all. It’s when he raises both hands, eyes closed, palms facin’ the churchgoers and… blesses us in prayer. Now, we always pray with our eyes closed, but when it comes to this part, I open my eyes seconds before the minister starts prayin’ or open them ahead of the others when the prayer is about to come to an end. Why? This habit started when I first tried opening ma eyes before the final prayer ended about a year ago. I noticed that the minister did not have his arms raised. I later found out from my maver that this was so because he was not yet a minister so maybe that doesn’t give him a right to raise his arms to us. He could only pray for us. From then on I always try to find out if a real minister is blessin’ us or not. Siyempre, I’d feel safer with the knowledge that a true minister was blessin’ us and not some apprentice. Well, so far, I haven’t encountered an apprentice minister since. *****************************************************
Paver and me hafta walk through filth going to church and back twice a week. This is because there’s no other route but through the railroad tracks which are bumpy, sodden, smelly, and littered with half-clad children and trash. Aside from this, we also pass under the Ramon Magsaysay bridge right next to the tracks which is home to a few squatter families. It’s mapanghi, dark, and always depressin’ to pass there. It always gets to me everytime & I wonder if passin’ through it all have a connection with my goin’ to church. If God wants me to notice the blessings He hands out to people accentuated more by my semi-formal clothes and the stench of their beloved homes reachin’ me.