Yes, I will be first to admit that I have been remiss in my duties as a Catholic -- why that is so is a different entry altogether.
Anyway, after living here for more than three years, today was the first time I actually went inside a church and heard mass. I was surprised to see many people inside the church, with the Communist Party's stand on organized religion being what it is (the government is officially atheist). I was not so surprised to see quite a handful of foreigners, Filipinos included. After all, this was one of only two weekly masses held in English.
I realized that the experience of hearing mass is the same as it is everywhere; I left with my heart feeling a bit more joyful, my burdens a bit lighter, and I felt ready to face the week ahead. But I also left with a sudden yearning for home, in particular the understated beauty with which we celebrate our religion: the solemn churches, the hushed crowd, and above all, the angelic voices of those who sing their praise.
What I wanted to drive at is actually very simple: I wish the church choir sounded a bit better... but anyway, I am ending this now before this entry starts to sound like a rant.
Being back in church was a good feeling, and to be honest, I am still pretty darn lucky to have a church to go to, all things considered. So I'll take what I can get, and try to start turning up regularly for my Sunday appointments with the Big Man again.
