Sorry, Am Just Curious

...and I enjoyed a selfie with this cute buddy of mine

Sunday, February 22, 20015

So, today I return to my Parish, The Cathedral of Twelve Apostles, Abuja. I have missed everything here. I do not expect anything less than a spirit-filled Holy Mass. And so it was, with Fr. Patrick Alumuku and his priest-friends at the altar.

Today, my curious mind pricks me again. There is something to learn and unlearn. The homily is on-point. Fr. Patrick is no greenhorn. He’s like that, always subtly luring you into the sermon with certain touchy stories. There is something to learn. I am blessed. Yes, we are.

The atmosphere in our church today, as always, brings with it the aura of prestige, a dashing sense of style and glamour in a way that assures you that all is well. It is a place of worship and our God is not a poor God after all. You could always feel the spirit of God moving among His people, blessing us. During consecration, the silence can be stony, as we focus on the altar in solemn prayer, inviting the Holy spirit to accept and turn our ‘gifts’ into the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ.  During this period, I have always thought the congregation a near-perfect people. There is a breath of freshness and newness. I think Fr. Ojukwu, the one I call the Priest General, deserves some credit for the continual spiritual and physical transformation in our parish.

But then there is something that often repels my Eucharistic appetite each time I am here for the Holy Mass, and today is not different. It is the chocking, often confusing smell of posh cologne, perfumes, deodorants and other cosmetics worn by this highly classy congregation. Sometimes I develop an upset in the stomach because of my allergy for strong smells. Once in the church, I expect only the sharp scent of the incense used during consecration. But when the atmosphere turns a convergence of piercing smells, it becomes a problem. And I don’t think this is befitting for a place of worship.

And the ladies made things worse with those deep colours on their lips. I recall how my lecturer sent away from the class ladies who wore excessive make-up. He said he was allergic to superfluous make-ups. I did not mind, for that was a class room environment. But this is a church, a holy place. But they don’t care, and so they march to the altar during communion with lips painted in devils-red. And this is the part that makes me feel unease, as I imagine a contact of the ‘pure, unblemished Lamb’ with that red thing on their lips despite Father’s effort to avoid that. With this, I have seen the height of arrogance. Or is this ignorance?  God save us!

During offertory, my eyes left me, prying into people‘s purses, pocket and clasped hands. It is one thing you don’t do in church. But that’s the problem with my eyes and my curious mind. One of the things we were taught as children was to “keep your offering a secret”. But things have changed so much in the church. So while my eyes wandered, it found people with high denomination naira notes loosely squeezed in their palms. I imagined that those who closed their palms tightly had lower currency; those who yet are not part of the well-off class; those still praying for God to #katapot# them so they could sing #Godwin#. Hmmm!

Well, we want the house of God to be a place of attraction not distraction. So, next time you are off to the church, check yourself and check again to ensure you maintain utmost decency, that you deserve the attention of the Holy Spirit whom you go to meet. And don’t forget you are there to worship God, and whatever you give “let not your right hand see…” for He sees your heart.

God bless you!