Mass in Mexico takes African twist
(Page 2 of 2)
Niri and his colleagues, including the Rev. AugustÃn Sony Wangge, also from Indonesia, now hold a monthly mass in the street to reach young people. They go door to door, letting people know about the service. "This is what we do in Indonesia, so why not do the same here," says Mr. Wangge.
"We must make the church more engaging and relevant," says Niri, who studied with the Society of the Divine Word, a steadily growing international congregation. A total of 700 students currently study at the seminary in Flores, Indonesia. Compare that to 550 students at Mexico's largest seminary in Guadalajara, which is seeing a steady drop-off in enrollment, according to Mr. Masferrer.
Niri gets sentimental thinking about Catholic mass in Indonesia. "People dance down the aisles with the priest at the beginning and end of mass," he says. "You've got drums and clapping. It's a lot more participatory."
Bandoweshe adds that he would also like to "see more singing and movement around here and less dozing off."
But don't expect drastic changes yet. "Foreign priests hope to share the vitality of the church they find in their homeland, but they must also know the limits of authority," says Mary Gautier, a researcher with the Center for Applied Research in the Apostolate at Georgetown University in Washington.
Wangge stresses that he does not wish to stray from official Catholicism. "I respect the new pope, the liturgy," he says. "But I also live with the people here and know their reality. If people are straying from the Catholic church, then we need to examine why."
One way they are trying to fight the dwindling numbers is by bringing a more personal touch. If someone has AIDS, says Wangge, he will give him a hug. He makes home visits to those who can't get to mass and has created outreach programs for the poor and single mothers. Bandoweshe says the concept of meeting the needs of the people has been lost amid traditions that often have very little to do with the church's primary mission.
"More cash goes to fireworks, big musical bands, and weeklong festivals than to helping the poor," he says. "That's something I'd like to reverse."
Bandoweshe came to Mexico three years ago. In Congo, his church served refugees, mostly from wars in Sudan and Uganda. "You risked your life working there, trying to help and shelter people," he says. In 1995 Bandoweshe, openly critical of the then-ruling Mobutu Sese Seko dictatorship, faced near-certain death when soldiers burst into his parish and fired shots. A bullet skimmed the back of his head, leaving a scar. After stints in Italy and again in the Congo, Bandoweshe was eventually sent to Mexico.
"The signal we're getting from the bishops here is to strengthen the faith," he says. Still, he is prepared to move slowly. "I am not bent on startling people," he says. "I know I'm a newcomer."
Page:
1 | 2




