"This little light of mine..."

This Sunday, I was asked by Amate House to go and speak at St. James' church, encouraging their parishioners, to donate food to our 25 Ton Food Drive.


I went over to the mass with my roommate Ryan, expecting this to be a typical mass, a typical congregation, a group of people falling asleep as I gave my inspiring five minute talk about my students, the work I did, and how we needed their help to reach our goals.

We were greeted outside the door by Father Edward, a middle aged priest with an inviting smile. He introduced us to a church organizer, a young African immigrant, who enthusiastically helped us to set up the food bags and pamphlets to be given out after mass.


Inside, the church was beautiful. It had a large lobby area that looked like a European courtyard, and gorgeous white pillars and decorations flying high into the top of the building. The choir was practicing, a mosaic of young and old parishioners, of all different races and backgrounds, singing gracefully to the lead of their young and handsome music director. One choir member was playing the bongo drums in the background.

I looked around me and noticed a tapestry of different cultures. Their were African Americans, Indians, Hispanics, Asians, Italians, Irish, Immigrants, young, old, families, singles, poor, wealthy. I looked around and saw an actual picture of Christ's face.

A young girl with blond hair, about four years old, danced to the choir, while her father looked on. As the mass began, her and her friends, took the bible to the back of the church with their Sunday school instructor to learn about the readings.

An older woman, with an Obama pin on her jacket, warmly smiled at me.

In front of me sat a young deacon, with an alter boy, intently focused on the mass.

The homily was a strong presentation about letting your worry go, and about voting for the person that you believed in your heart was the best person to lead our country. To not be bullied by Christians telling you there was a right answer. The right answer was your own.


The music was like angels singing, the smiles and warm hellos astounding.
During the Lord's prayer the entire church held hands, and came to the middle together.
At the end of mass, the Priest announced a "Celebration of Light," a special program welcoming the Indian members of the church, in which Indian dancing, music, and food would be part of the celebration.

When I went up to give my talk, I was overcome with joy. I told the people of the church that this was a special place, with a sincere and welcoming energy.

They all clapped.

As we passed out bags, many people came up to me to thank me for my words, encoring me to come back, and even to join the choir.

As Ryan and I laughed with smiles on our faces, we noticed a Cricket game going on across the street, with people of varying backgrounds playing together.

My heart truly sang.

I believed I had truly found my place of faith.