The truth of the matter is that I shouldn’t be writing anything today. Today, I was encouraged by Sr. Jean to take a declared “day of rest.” It was a good opportunity to edit some blogs and some photos, as well as take a nap… or two.
I figured I was going to have to absorb some grief for having absolutely nothing to contribute in today’s blogs, just like I did when I took a day off in Brazil, which also happened to be at a house of the Poor Handmaids of Jesus Christ.
And then the bells rang.
I need to make note of that event, merely for the sake of posterity. People of my generation tend to forget why bells ring. We think it is nostalgically beautiful to hear church bells, but until you live in a place where the average person doesn’t carry a timepiece, and the schedule of the priest is not publicized, we forget that bells are put in churches for a very simple reason. They tell people when to gather.
I’ve noticed it in remote villages before. When the priest arrives at an outstation chapel, the bells are rung to announce that Mass will begin shortly. The people have no other way of knowing. In the past, I had always been part of the contingency that was arriving. I was never part of the contingency that was waiting. I certainly was never part of the contingency that didn’t even know that it was waiting.
Today was the feast of St. Francis Xavier. I felt bad that I was going to miss Mass on his feast day, but I knew that it was a three hour journey round trip to go into Coatzacoalcos. It sort of defeated to purpose of having a day to rest if I didn’t rest. I had resigned that I would only celebrate evening prayer with the sisters, which would be a Communion Service.
And then the bells rang.
I changed my non-existent plans and walked the five minute walk into the center of Mapachapa, to a chapel of which I forgot the name. The homily wasn’t memorable and the singers, like they often have been in southern Mexico, were out of tune and lamentable. Before I knew it, I was walking back to the Poor Handmaid’s house, dodging the stubborn turkeys that always refuse to get out of the way, and shaking the dew off of sandals, wet from the dewy grass.
But I experienced something for the first time, and it changed my perspective. I always thought the bells were rung just to make things pretty.
The truth is, they call us to church.
And they call us to be Church.