♫And reeeeeads her Biiiiiible♫
To anyone who has never experienced that particular vine, I apologize, but I had no idea what else to call this post.
Essentially, probably totally unsurprisingly to everyone who knows me at all, I did indeed manage to find a bilingual Christian congregation here, which I've been attending pretty regularly. The church, Agape International Christian Fellowship, only has about 15 people at service every Sunday (unsurprising since only 1% of the national population identifies as Christian), and as such, they don't have a church building, but meet in a city-owned room at the moment. Services consist of an hour of worship music (led by the pastor, Pastor Watahara, on the guitar and his wife on the flute), and about an hour of scripture study/preaching. Even though services are longer than the ones I'm used to back home, they don't feel as long for some reason.
As I mentioned, the service is bilingual. What this means is that worship songs are primarily sung in Japanese (which is printed on the song sheet in romaji (Roman letters) so I can easily sing along), but occasionally we'll sing a verse and chorus in English. (I save the song sheets since several of the songs are ones I know from home; I'll try to post a video to YouTube fairly soon of me singing a couple of worship songs in Japanese that fellow Morningsider Christians will recognize.) When reading the scriptures, the pastor will read a verse in English, and then immediately read it in Japanese. In the same way, in the sermon, he'll say a sentence in English, and then immediately say it in Japanese. It's a cool way to both practice my Japanese listening recognition skills and hear the Word of God.
There is one major interesting thing I've noticed about the Japanese take on Christianity that surprised me a little. First of all, you almost never see Japanese people get emotional, at least not in a negative sense. Even laughter is often restricted to the home if it's anything beyond a short laugh in most cases. You definitely never see someone crying in public, unless they're a very small child, in mortal agony, or have just lost a relative/good friend or something. It's just not done here. Even at home, crying is rare. Aya-chan banged her elbow good on a countertop the other day, let out a single cry, and curled over on herself, before taking a deep breath and standing back up with a big smile.
"Aya-chan daijoubu?" (You ok?) Mama asked.
"Hai-hai," (Yup-yup!) Aya-chan replied, and went back to making herself a snack.
That said, the only time I've ever seen Japanese people getting truly emotional is at church. I've only been to one communion service somehow so far (I'm not sure about their schedule for those), but when the pastor read the Words of Institution over the Holy Sacrament, he was teary and his voice was shaking. There were several people throughout the congregation sniffling, and it wasn't runny nose sniffling (I've learned good and well what that sounds like by now, since wiping/blowing your nose in public is frowned upon here). At first I was a little confused by the emotional reaction, mainly because it was so unexpected, but when I got back home and thought about it a little, I began to understand.
When you live in a country where Christianity is legal and fairly readily available to you, if you choose to go looking for it, and you yourself are a Christian but practically no one else you know is, well... I can see how it would become all the more precious. The Japanese have religious freedom, of course, so Christians aren't legally persecuted, per se, but... When what you believe to be the most important thing in the universe is rare in your home country, and you know that the vast, vast majority of people around you will never experience why it is so important to you... I can see how that would make it hard not to be emotional every time you get to experience it.
I kinda wish the American church were that enthusiastic and emotional over Christianity, still.
Unfortunately, for the lovely little church I've found, times aren't the best (from a worldly point of view, at least) right now. I'm not entirely sure why, but after the end of March, religious groups can no longer use local city buildings for meetings. So, the room they currently use, and the library (their backup location) are both off the table as of April 1st. They won't have anywhere to meet, and they're not sure where to go.
Last week, the pastor met with the director ("a very kind person," he said) of the building they typically meet in, and asked whether anything could be done to allow them to continue to meet there.
"Well, you're all very kind and polite people," said the director, "and no one else needs that room Sunday mornings anyway, so I really want you to be able to keep using it and doing exactly what you've been doing. So I tell you what--if you say you're just studying the Bible for knowledge and being a chorus group, I'll let you keep using the room another two years, no questions asked. You can keep doing exactly what you've been doing; you just have to say here and now that what you won't be doing is worshiping God. As long as you're not worshiping God, or at least, as long as you say you're not worshiping God, you can stay."
Of course, Pastor Watahara replied, "We can't say that."
So, as of April, they won't have anywhere to meet.
The pastor explained, "From a worldly point of view, this is the worst time for our church. It probably seems like God doesn't really care about us, that He's giving up on us as a church. But from a godly point of view, this is the best time for our church. God is leading us on a new journey of faith and trust."
The native members of the church are trying to figure out where to go, so to anyone who prays, we'd all appreciate prayer on that front. The people of this congregation are all very sweet and kind. Every week, they all take the time to shake my hand and greet me, even if some of them don't really know any English and I don't know enough Japanese to have a full, in-depth conversation with them. The pastor (who is, of course, fluent in English) always takes time to check in and ask how I've been over the past week. The first Sunday I worshiped with them, he told me, "The precious prayers of God's people have brought you to us from across the sea. He has a plan to bless you and others through you this semester. If you need any help with anything, please tell us; we are all God's family."
And then this past Sunday, as I was preparing to go, he told me, "I might not know you very well yet, but you are very polite and joyous, and we are all very happy to see you every Sunday when you walk in."
I beamed back and replied, "Hai, watashi wa ganbarimasu!" (Yes, I try my utmost/do my very best!), only for him to gently interrupt.
"No, I don't think you understand," he said. "What I mean is that your very being and spirit are very polite and joyous." He meant, "You don't have to ganbarimasu. You already are the thing you're striving to be."
I kinda wanted to burst into tears, but in good Japanese fashion, I just smiled brightly and thanked him several times before heading out.
I guess what I really want to say overall is, God bless Pastor Watahara and the people of AICF. I hope and pray they find another place to meet soon.
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