Madagascar - Worship Malagasy Style (Day 5)

I preached at Pastor Filbert’s church this morning.  The place was packed with what looked like 500 people in church.  The service started at 9:00 am.  You know how most American church-goers pull in to church at the last minute?  I was sitting in Pastor Filbert’s house right next to the church and heard singing at about 8:30 am.  The place was already getting crowded.  When we walked in at 9 am, we had to set up the video projector I brought because Pastor Laurent wanted me to show the video of Mayor Eggers greeting the people of Madagascar (good job, Mr. Mayor).  They already full house sat and watched in relative quiet.

The church service was 2 hours and 15 minutes long.  And the crowd was sitting on plain wooden benches.  Children were there and were mostly quiet.  When they started crying no one gave the disgusted look I’m afraid I’ve seen in too many American churches.  The children were in worship.  And so were the husbands and wives.  And so were the youth.  About 40 percent of the church was 18 and under.   They were there because they wanted to be there. 

The worship service consisted of two baptisms, commissioning two leaders in the church (which involved those leaders singing a song, reciting Scripture, and answering a series of commitment questions), two anthems, 15 minutes of announcements, about four songs, an offering song, three Scripture readings, and a sermon.  I preached the sermon and Pastor Laurent translated.  I stopped after every thought to allow Pastor Laurent to translate.  As in the past with doing this in Honduras, I think the translator preached a better sermon than I preached judging by the crowd reaction.  

Two things stood out.  First, the singing.  I thought it yesterday at the 25^th celebration of Pastor Laurent’s ministry and again this morning in worship.   We could learn a lot from the Malagasy Christians.  They sing!  Loud.  With vigor.  Even the vice president of the church, a dignitary who works with the American ambassador in the capital city, was singing away with mouth wide open.  The church choir sang a piece I will just have to play for you.  Beautiful and inspiring.  I played it for Pastor Laurent later and he translated it for me.  It was a discipleship message: “follow me.”

The second thing that stood out was the attentiveness and involvement of the congregation.  I sat up front and could see the congregation during the whole service. There was not one part of the service I saw people’s eye’s glaze over and them check out mentally.  Their passion for the Lord was evident.  Their faith shaped their lives, inspired their hearts, and was evident in their worship. 

After lunch, we headed out for our afternoon activity.  It was a commissioning service for new pastors.  Pastor Laurent is the vice president of the denomination, which means he is involved in significant events like this commissioning of 83 pastors and 50 church school teachers.  The event was held in an amphitheater that held 4,000 people.  It was filled to capacity.  Kelly King and I sat next to Pastor Laurent and his wife, Diamondra, on the second row of the platform.  That is Pastor Laurent and me in the photo above before the commissioning.  We sat next to all of the dignitaries of the national church.  As far as we could tell, we were also the only two white people in the crowd.  It was far from uncomfortable.  While we were the minority race, it felt we were among family.  Race was a non-category.  These were my sisters and brothers in Christ.  It was a beautiful moment.

The commissioning lasted three hours.  Again, more sitting.  The names were read, speeches given, hands shook, and the deed was done.  The church here desperately needs the graduates.  Many churches are without pastors.  These new pastors are required to service a remote church for five years before seeking a transfer.  They have to thrive in the poorest of environments as a proving ground for ministry here.  If they can’t make it there, they are not allowed to make it elsewhere.  It still amazes Pastor Laurent that we have three pastors in one church when there each pastor has three churches to serve. 

During the commissioning, I loved one moment in particular.  What is implicit here in the American church was explicit there.  The new pastors took a vow, had a verbal agreement to not tell a living soul what gets said in confidence.  What a great moment for the 4,000 people to hear.  It reminds me to say to you that there are things that have been told to me that I will take to my grave.  If you ever need to talk, unload sin, confess…

After the commissioning, we had an unplanned visit.  One of the church members who was heavily involved in evangelism work died suddenly two days ago.  He was 49 years old.  One of the professors we sat with during the commissioning told us about the death.  The man who died was a family member of that professor.  We got to see how the Malagasy deal with death. 

In America, when a person dies, a funeral director is called in, the body is removed, an embalming or cremation takes places, and funeral plans are made.  Here in Madagascar, the practices at death are similar to how they were long ago in America.   First, a solution is applied to the body to slow decay.  No embalming takes place.  The body is washed, dressed, and placed on a table in a room in the home.  In the south, we used to call it “sitting up with the dead.”  Here, the family sets up chairs in the room and sits with the dead while visitors come by to pay their respects.  Kelly, Pastor Laurent, Diamondra, and I were shown into the darkened room.  Pastor Laurent expressed condolences to the dozen family members gathered.  I prayed a pastoral prayer for the family.  A family member exchanged thoughts with us, which we were told later were words of gratitude.  Diamondra gave an envelope to the wife who had a stack of envelopes in her hand.  Each had money in it to help cover the expenses.  Death is not abstract and distant.  They are involved in all stages of death.  Somehow I think that gritty reality helps the grieving. 

When we left the house, we walked outside and found a crowd of people waiting to go in to visit the family.  They would soon do what we just did.  One of the people in the crowd was the former prime minister of the country.  We had a brief conversation with him and he was interested to know how Kelly and I like Madagascar.  We assured him it was an honor to be here.  Just like that, we met top political leader of the country. 

That night, we found out that Pastor Filbert, in whose home we were staying, fled into exile during the government coup in 2009.  Pastor Laurent told us, “Don’t let this quiet man fool you, he is a strong man of principle.  He has been a rock during this national crisis.”  For three months, his family went into hiding until international amnesty groups put enough pressure on the government to stop arresting and persecuting outspoken leaders.   The Christians stood on the side of those who were being abused and oppressed.  Pastor Filbert and others spoke out and still do.  The people here continue to amaze me in their resilience and optimism in spite of their conditions.  This is their homeland and they love their home.  It is a shared experience everywhere I have travelled, but it is good to see it here.

Sleep.  Welcome sleep.  Again, thinking of you.