Everyone's in Town Tonight
At odd moments I sit down and poke around the various menus of Blogger and experiment tweaking the HTML. I have a goal in mind; it's just a matter of time (and trial and error) before I get there. I did post a picture of our new church building today, but there's more I want to do with it when I get the chance. As the name indicates, the church is located in Funchal, the capital city of the island of Madeira. We live in Santa Cruz, the town closest to the airport, about 20 minutes east of Funchal.
Like every village and settlement on the island, Santa Cruz has its own patron saint, and holds an annual feast in honor of its saint. Today is Santo Amaro's feast day, and tonight the village is full of people from all over the island who have come for the music and the food. Some may have come in homage to the saint, but I suspect they are in the not-so-vast minority. There was a procession last night, when the image was taken from its chapel at the east edge of the village and marched in solemn procession to the parish church. The devout follow along silently, carrying long candles, or wax representations of body parts (legs, feet, heads, arms, or babies) they have paid for as a vow to the saint for some answer to prayer they've received...or hope to receive.
The main attraction, however, is the grilled meat, popcorn, fried doughnuts (or a reasonable facsimile thereof), and music played loudly from a bandstand. And the people gather to visit with friends, neighbors, and strangers, and they drink. And they eat. And they drink. And some of them drink some more. It's not uncommon to read a report in the paper the next morning after one of these local feasts that the police had to be called to break up a fight fueled by alcohol. And sooner or later, one of those fights will lead to one of the parties involved killing the other, usually with a knife or club. One of the men I minister to in the prison is from Ukraine; he killed a fellow Ukrainian during a festival the immigrants were celebrating last summer. He was so drunk he doesn't really remember doing it, but he does remember waking up completely covered in blood.
The highway in front of our house is almost completely blocked with cars parked on both sides. There isn't room in the village for all those who have come from near and far to party. The noise from the village below will go on until 1:00 or so in the morning (hopefully not until 2:00 a.m., as it has many years), and we may get to rest after that. If faith in God and a desire to know about His Word were the main (only) attraction offered, how many of these people would show up? Everyone's in town tonight; how many will be in church tomorrow?
Like every village and settlement on the island, Santa Cruz has its own patron saint, and holds an annual feast in honor of its saint. Today is Santo Amaro's feast day, and tonight the village is full of people from all over the island who have come for the music and the food. Some may have come in homage to the saint, but I suspect they are in the not-so-vast minority. There was a procession last night, when the image was taken from its chapel at the east edge of the village and marched in solemn procession to the parish church. The devout follow along silently, carrying long candles, or wax representations of body parts (legs, feet, heads, arms, or babies) they have paid for as a vow to the saint for some answer to prayer they've received...or hope to receive.
The main attraction, however, is the grilled meat, popcorn, fried doughnuts (or a reasonable facsimile thereof), and music played loudly from a bandstand. And the people gather to visit with friends, neighbors, and strangers, and they drink. And they eat. And they drink. And some of them drink some more. It's not uncommon to read a report in the paper the next morning after one of these local feasts that the police had to be called to break up a fight fueled by alcohol. And sooner or later, one of those fights will lead to one of the parties involved killing the other, usually with a knife or club. One of the men I minister to in the prison is from Ukraine; he killed a fellow Ukrainian during a festival the immigrants were celebrating last summer. He was so drunk he doesn't really remember doing it, but he does remember waking up completely covered in blood.
The highway in front of our house is almost completely blocked with cars parked on both sides. There isn't room in the village for all those who have come from near and far to party. The noise from the village below will go on until 1:00 or so in the morning (hopefully not until 2:00 a.m., as it has many years), and we may get to rest after that. If faith in God and a desire to know about His Word were the main (only) attraction offered, how many of these people would show up? Everyone's in town tonight; how many will be in church tomorrow?
posted by EP | 8:38 PM | Permalink
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