Sunday - Part 1

Sunday morning, we got up early and took an auto rickshaw to the Lutheran church that we helpfully located on Saturday. When we got there, the tents from the Saturday wedding were still up, but there were only a few people. We climbed up the stairs into the sanctuary, where there were some worshippers dotted around. One of them, named Harrison, introduced himself to us as a "senior member" of the congregation. I think this was understating it a bit, as he was clearly the worship leader - he made the announcements, led the liturgy and the singing, and kept things on track.

The liturgy was straight out of the LBW, and we sang "The Church's One Foundation," "Praise to the Lord, the Almighty," the Scottish psalter version of the 23rd psalm, and "I Surrender All." I didn't really need a service book, but someone slipped me one about halfway through the service. During the offering, a group of teens came forward and played a praise chorus, complete with drums, electric piano and guitar, and two girls who sing. The guitar player had a shirt with "Franklin Roosevelt" on it. At first I thought he might be Martin, but he clearly wasn't. I asked him about it after the service, and he said it was a popular brand name, not a political statement.

The sermon was by a laywoman, Mrs. Nixon, who did a really good job. Her texts were Micah 7, the conversion of Saul, and the Prodigal Son. These aren't our lectionary texts, and didn't match the two-year lectionary I found in the front of the service book, so my guess is that she chose her own. I talked to her afterward, and she said that she is a teacher who loves to do Bible study, so she ends up preaching on occasion.

At the end, Harrison called me forward to introduce myself and explain why I was there. I gave my standard "greeting from foreign churches" speech, which seemed fine.

In the prayers of the church, and in the announcements at the end of the service, mention was made of dissension in the church. It wasn't clear to me if this is an issue in the congregation, or in the AELC as a whole, but something is going on. I didn't ask what, since I have a feeling that probably no one would tell me, and if someone did, I wouldn't get it.

After the service, we noticed that there were children coming from the undercroft with some kind of pastry. Vindya wanted one, so we went down and discovered that Sunday School was being held during the service. There was a man with a box of pastries handing them out, and I asked if Vindya could have one. He said sure, and gave me one as well. It was phyllo dough with a spiced potato filling, really quite tasty.

People were kind of hanging around in the courtyard, and we visited for a bit. One thing that I noticed was that there were no other foreigners. I had kind of expected an expat contingent at the service, and I asked about that. I was told that all churches have an English service as well as a Telugu one. Now I'm trying to figure out where expats might worship, just in case I'm still here on Sunday. I really want to be around "my own kind." (Sad, but true.)

We had previously arranged for Rufus to pick us up after the service, and he was right on time. Vindya was thrilled to see him, and after a few minutes he told me that he could see a big difference in her. We drove out of town along the not-yet-open highway, and eventually took one of the exits and drove along progressively smaller and bumpier dirt roads out into the countryside.

The landscape wasn't what I expected. When I think of agricultural areas, I think of South Dakota - mile after mile of cultivated fields, or what is clearly pasture. Here, there were no obvious signs that this area has been cultivated for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. The land was mostly broken, with large boulders and lots of scrub trees. Every so often, there was a paddy, or a small fenced in and planted area. Otherwise it was desolate. We drove through several spots where there were shacks along both sides of the road for a few hundred yards, selling food, clothes, and other things I couldn't identify. Rufus said that these were larger villages.

We finally arrived at the village he was aiming for. As we got out of the car, Rufus asked me if I ever preach. I said yes, so he said that I should offer a short sermon. Luckily, one of the things that I learned from Pan Farar was to always have a couple of sermons/Bible studies ready to go, so this didn't worry me.

Worship had already started when we arrived. The church had one room. Everyone sat on the floor, on large blankets, women on the left and men on the right. There was a row of plastic chairs across the back on the men's side, and we were led to sit there. Everyone stared at us openly. The pastor did some talking, and then the three of us were led forward, to sit up behind the altar. At this point, they brought garlands of flowers for Vindya and me. Vindya absolutely lit up, she was really excited, and beaming, and showing me the flowers, tugging on the pastor's arm to show him the flowers, and generally being charming. I suspect she has never had anything like that before.

Shortly after the pastor started talking, Vindya turned to me and signaled that she needed to go potty. I asked her to wait, but one of the women came forward and took her out. When they came back, Vindya decided to sit with the other children at the front of the women's section. The kids immediately crowded around her, ignoring the speaker. She wanted to show them the flowers, but they were more interested in her immense collection of bangles. That was fine, as she was more than happy to show those off as well.

After a few minutes Rufus was called forward as a guest preacher. He introduced me, explaining a bit about why I was there, and I did a short Bible study/preaching moment on Psalm 95. (Always a good one, appropriate to all circumstances.) Rufus translated for me, then he said I could sit up front or in the audience, and I went to sit on the floor in the women's area. Everyone offered me a chair, but I said I was fine, and then he did the sermon. (I didn't understand it, but I assume it was good.)

At the end of the service, Vindya and I were called up front to be blessed and prayed over. The pastor spoke to me in English, telling me that the entire congregation was impressed and moved that I had come so far to help one of their children. A child from the village had been taken to the sisuvihar only a week or so previously, and they were all aware that Indians do not take care of their own children, and here I was taking care of one. It went on at embarrassing length, to be honest. He asked Vindya her name, and school year, and who I was, and told her to pray to Jesus and listen to her mother, and her life would be good. She agreed.

Afterward, the congregation followed us to the pastor's home. He lives there with his father and mother, his wife, their two children, and his younger brother. There was no electricity that day, which they told me is not unusual. The utility will regularly cut power to the villages without warning, sometimes for days at a time. The stove uses gas, so the made a nice lunch for us. We had bottled, water, rice, naan, and several meat and vegetable dishes. Vindya was thrilled. She, Rufus and I sat and ate, everyone else stood around and served us. I asked them to sit, but they said no, we were guests. The pastor waved a towel to keep the flies away, his wife refilled our plates constantly, his mother brought more food from the kitchen. We finally managed to convince them that we were full (made more difficult because Vindya doesn't really believe in "full").

I'm going to post this now, and finish later.