When the Homily is about Immunology

Orthodox Uganda

Today was a special day for the Orthodox of Uganda. Perhaps you do not know how the Orthodox arrived in Uganda? Well with the collapse of the Byzantine Empire and the invasion of the Arabs, there was precious little chance for them to have received the Orthodox Faith. Surprisingly enough, Orthodoxy would come to Uganda through a decidedly indigenous quest for original Christianity - sound familiar?

An RC publication has some of the interesting details of how Orthodoxy was discovered in Uganda. An Orthodox source has some additional details.

Anyway, today was a celebration of the establishment of Orthodoxy in Uganda and so we traveled to where the first mission was established: a little village called Bombo about 26km north of Kampala. It was here that I was able to meet Metropolitan Jonah...likely the only met I'll ever meet.



He was a very friendly man and in fact embraced me before I could even kiss his hand, inviting me to join him at the altar during the service. One of my housemates and colleagues, Jessica (hereafter aka Nabukeera after Fr. Peter made her an official daughter and member of his clan and tribe) came a long way and said she had a wonderful time. We had traditional African singing (They have a gorgeous "Cherubic Hymn" which Fr. Peter said is of western origin, but I'd never heard it), drums, special choirs, rain, mud, trials of Ugandan rain soaked roads and almost getting stuck, being the only two Mzungus (white people) out of hundreds (actually upon further reflection this was without question the most populous Liturgy I have ever attended), and we got to see the Ugandan countryside, and of course witnessing unimaginable poverty.

I cannot bear to take photos of the most blatant poverty...it feels obscene to do so. I'm not sure I can explain why I cannot do it. I want to shout about our incredible ignorance and selfishness and affluence...but I know this is for me to internalize now. Anyway...compare and contrast your grocery store to the Ugandan equivalent that most utilize:


I realize I'm beating a dead horse in this regard, but this is my blog and frankly I am reminded everyday whether I cruise the pediatric cancer ward or I take a drive to Church...and so here it is.

But, my brothers and my sisters...if you could see the smiles on their faces as they sing in the choir...if you could see the joy they have in simply singing...you'd have a better picture of the Ugandan people. No their PURPOSE is not to manage a master performance of trophy quality, but rather to truly "make a joyful noise unto the Lord." A joyful noise....oh yes...a joyful noise in the midst of what we would - in our insane affluence - perceive to be unbearable. Sing to Him...and derive profound joy in doing this...this one little thing. And we...we meanwhile might grimace and grumble in our hearts for someone not turning the music page quickly enough.

They are a faithful people, a joy filled people...God, You know how they shame us so. We, so hung up in our too many of our American Orthodox choirs, worrying about who is following petty rules...whereas in the midst of poverty the Ugandans are happy for ANY voice to sing with them. A mother sitting down on a chair with her newborn in the choir? A PROBLEM? Quite on the contrary: beautiful. I could go on and on...but suffice to say that you and I, my brothers and sisters are full of pettiness. Funny how death looming so easily changes your perspective...what are YOU worrying about right now? Well guess what? A mother is at this very moment up at the Ugandan Cancer Institute watching her child breath his last...a final awful breath YOUR American child would never have to suffer because even if worse came to worse you could cancel your cable subscription and pay for the treatment. But of course most of you could keep HBO and your child breathing.

I truly feel when I enter these people's homes and they say to me, smiling (as they always do with great enthusiasm): "You are most welcome!" that I ought to prostrate before them. The way I feel right now, I have no doubts that it would be altogether appropriate.

They drink from the same cup...they are our brothers and sisters...portions of our body left uncovered in the cold. Surely we can do something.