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Religion: Knowledge helps in travel, by god |
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Written by Knight Ridder
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Wednesday, 12 April 2006 |
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Fans fastened to pillars made excruciatingly slow half-orbits, and poor parishioners out of range flapped the hand-held variety. The woman across the aisle from me, in white dress and white-flowered hat, vigorously wiped her face with a towel.
A rare breeze wafted like a benediction through the open, louvered windows topped by the more traditional Gothic kind, each radiant with sun-lit panes of primary colors. They gave the interior something of the feel of a Candyland.
The large preacher, in white suit and black tie, sweated in the pulpit erupting from the middle of the high west wall, and hefty women’s voices, unadorned by instruments, belted out hymns in Maori with unfettered zeal.
It was the first Sunday in March in the Cook Islands Christian Church in the village of Arutanga on the island of Aitutaki.
Travel writers, coming as they do from predominantly secular societies, tend to ignore the religious practices of the people they visit, especially the Christian ones.
They will travel to Chichen Itza fascinated by the sacred sacrifices of the ancient Mayans, but they will not join their descendants at Mass in Merida.
It has — or should have — nothing to do with one’s personal beliefs (or lack thereof). In most of the world, with the exception of much of Europe, the Antipodes, and some parts of North America, religion is still an integral part of people’s lives, an invaluable key to understanding not only their culture and history but who they are: their behaviors, motives, prejudices, desires. (As we have searingly seen in the Middle East.)
Going to church (or temple or mosque or synagogue) should be as high on a serious traveler’s itinerary as visiting a market or attending a game.
An Episcopalian, I sometimes search out an Anglican service when abroad.
Admittedly, attending Holy Communion at Christ Church in Bangkok didn’t give me great insight into the culture, but it provided me with something I cherish almost as much: a glimpse of life most tourists miss. After the service, the coffee hour was enlivened by curries and conversations with an engaging collection of expats and Thais.
Communion in Aitutaki had its own charms.
White-suited ushers came down the aisle bearing shallow wicker baskets neat with rows of what looked like cubes of Wonder Bread but were in fact coconut meat.
Shortly after, the men returned with rectangular wooden trays holding dozens of tiny glasses filled with a perfectly clear liquid. Coconut water.
It seemed, in both appearance and taste, the essence of purity. | Only registered users can write comments. Please login or register. |
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