The Sperm and the Egg[nog]

So two Hindus and an Agnostic wander into a Mennonite church...

I'm back in Jogja, safely nestled next to an electrical outlet in a Starbucks -- it's been flooding due to heavy rains, so I sought shelter in the mall -- after a long weekend traveling around the North coast of Java.  I took a bus with Termana and his younger brother, Hadhi (both Balinese Hindus), up through the hills to Semarang, the capital of Central Java. We went to visit Ika, whose family lives in Welahan, a small town nestled between the chaotic city of Semarang and Jepara. Arriving on Christmas afternoon, we joined Ika's family to attend the evening service at her Mennonite church. We were promised delicious and plentiful Christmas bread, which has become an increasingly prominent tradition handed out at the end of the Christmas service.

So, to get our hands on some of this sweet, sweet Christmas bread, we arrived to witness the sermon and various activities. Little did we know our curiosity and sweet tooth (sweet teeth?) would be met by a passionate and tireless visiting preacher from Jakarta. From the start, her voice hit a high pitch and she continued to shout through her points. My mind wandered, as the sound and quality of her voice connected to sound and video clips in my mind of various totalitarian leaders shouting at their people.  Her vigor was exciting, and then frightening, and then just annoying. What finally grabbed my attention was her turn to the topic of the "miracle of life" -- sperm and ovaries. She lectured the audience like a thorough Sex Ed teacher on the millions of sperm cells that rush towards the egg, and how it is one, very special sperm cell that makes it to -- and is accepted within -- the egg. What? Sperm? Ovaries? Zygotes? On Christmas? The shock wore off as she spun through some adjacent topics including Abortion. At this point, my mind turned back to the sweet, sweet Christmas bread awaiting each of us outside the doors to the church. Leaning over to Ika, I asked where the church found such a crazy preacher, and she informed me that the woman is Batak -- an ethnic group from Sumatra -- and Batak people are just like that, yelling all the time. I guess it makes sense...

When her two-hour sermon finally came to a close, we joined in song,  accompanied by the new Christian rock band that was incorporated into the increasingly Pentecostal-y service. Flag dancers came out, and I was reminded of the same strange combination of Mennonite and Pentecostal practices created by a church of Indonesians living in Philadelphia. As we closed our eyes, and raised our hands to the ceiling, singing joyously of the Lord, Jesus Christ, I could not imagine that this Mennonite Church exists in the imaginations of the more conservative Mennonites nestled near their Amish brethren in Pennsylvania and Ohio. But, then again, I'm no religion expert. The one comforting similarity to the christmas celebrations within my memory was the highs and lows hit while singing "O Holy Night", or "Malam Kudus" in Indonesia. At the very same points, people seem to lose all control and their inner divas find expression, such as the point where it transitions into "Fall on your knees, O Hear the Angel's voices". It is a transition where all carolers the world-around seem to have the same divine-yet-nightmarish tremor and belt out their souls.

More Flag dancing ensued, and then, just as I thought it was bread time, I saw that we would not escape the 4 hour service until we shook the hands of everyone involved in the service -- all thirty-something individuals.

Haven't they heard of H1N1?! And here I just wanted to get a peak at an Indonesian Christmas service and binge on some Christmas bread. Squeezed in line, I repeated "Selamat Hari Natal" (Merry Christmas) to each and ever person I came to face, and finally, my feet bumped the threshold of the doorway, and my eyes met the darkness of the night sky, and my hands met the contours of the generous box packed with sweet, sweet Christmas bread.

As I eat the last crumbs, and type these words, I just ask that each reader take a moment to pray for my crass, bread-laden soul.

Merry Christmas!

PS. I had my fate read at the Confucious temple next door -- this only took 15 minutes (for comparison) -- and I received some good news directly related to applications... Strange and hopeful.