Where is God by Frank Delgado It was a hot summer day with - TopicsExpress



          

Where is God by Frank Delgado It was a hot summer day with temperatures hovering around 90 degrees. Now that’s hot in Portland, Oregon where the temperature is usually 72 degree. But it was cool inside a store that had been converted into a Christian Church. I entered not looking for God, but to see the high concentration of indigenous members who were attending a service. As I walked toward the front, I noticed several members with strong indigenous facial features, but it was their mannerism that authenticated who they were. Their mannerism told of a reverent belief and acknowledgment in an inclusive God of love. These members were prostrated on the floor, their backs toward the altar in a sign of humility, head bent, and hands clasp in atonement. The intensity of their remorse was striking. I wondered what could they have done to feel so much torment. I don’t understand when I think of all that has happened to these people and their ancestors, why are they not crying out for justice instead of forgiveness? Maybe they blame themselves or maybe they don’t know what happened to them. Could it be a history denied or that they believed it is the natural order for them to suffer. The membership rose from their prone position and started to sing repetitive affirmations of a great God who will do great things but not for them (That ‘s the part that was left out of the propaganda). The music tempo sped up and became jazz like. It became intoxicating and the crowd started weaving side to side in step with the beats. Some lifted their arms skyward reaching for someone to embrace them, but I saw no one. A lady next to me started to shake then jumped up and down with the music. Her eyes were closed and tears streamed down her cheeks. My mind races back in time to when thousands of her ancestors were impaled on stakes for doing the same thing, but outside the shroud of Christianity. Then their actions were called adoration of the devil and carried with it a penalty of death but not here. Here it’s a cloak of piety. At the end of the service we are told to bow our heads and open our hearts to God. I know it was a set up, what they really meant was to bow our heads and open our wallets. Then we were told to give thanks and asked for a blessing. For five hundred years the indigenous people of the Americas have prayed to this dark skin Hebrew Jew who was made to look European with blond hair and blue eyes but he does not understand their language. Why else would he not hear their cries for mercy? The sermon was about Christ dying on the cross for them, but I envision hundreds of thousands of indigenous men, women and children burned on crosses in the name of the Christ whom they are told to worship. Perhaps these individual can show Christian to be Christ like; to suffer and forgive those who trespass in the name of love.
Posted on: Sun, 03 Nov 2013 14:31:22 +0000

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