Christmas in Flores

December 25, 2007

While Indonesia is predominantly an Islamic country, the more eastern islands have been greatly influenced by Portuguese colonization and Dutch missionaries. As a result, the island of Flores reports to be 85% Christian. Thinking that a mass with the locals would be more interesting than bikinis & Bintang (Indonesia's national beer) on Bali, I stayed a few extra days...

On Christmas Eve I walked around Ende, looking for a church to attend. Quite a few options presented themselves, but I couldn't turn down the offer from a young clergy candidate to attend the 6 o'clock mass at his church, home to Ende's largest congregation and largest statue of Jesus out front.

Synthesized Christmas music echoed in the church as the bells called the people to come. I sat in a pew near the back hoping to draw little attention to myself. The alter was ornate and flooded with lights. A Christmas cretsch was set up at the base with a rotating disco-effect bulb swirling around and illuminating the baby Jesus and cast. Everything was florescent, electronic, surreal.

The misa, or service, started as a voice flooded the church. No one stood at the microphone. It was like the Great Oz commanding the people to sit, to stand, to pray, to kneel.

The choir sat above the congregation and enthusiastically belted out songs of celebration. Some people joined in, but there were no hymnals or leaflets to guide the masses. Soon the Christmas procession began - young girls in Indonesian sarongs dancing with yellow flower puffs, alter boys and girls carrying sacred candles, the littlest girls dressed as white angels with wings and wands, the church elders and lastly the priest from behind the curtain.

The service was simple and much like any Catholic mass in the world (only in Bahasa Indonesian, that is). I was struck by the incredible influence the Vatican has from Rome to Flores and beyond - same robes, same candles, that smoking ball thing, same "body" wafers, same goblets, same same (but different).

Up, down, up, down, kneel, up, down. We shook hands in peace, took communion and after 2 hours the service ended as the 8 o'clock mass attendees were arriving in hordes.

I returned to my hotel feeling a little bit more like Christmas. I turned on the air conditioning and was pleased to see that one of the four television stations was playing and English language movie subtitled in Indonesian. I spent the rest of Christmas Eve with Drew Barymore, Lucy Lieu and Cameron Diaz in Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle. While not Christmas themed, the Angels did provide a little slice of home.

There is not a lot to do in Ende on a regular day so one can imagine how boring a quiet Christmas holiday could be. With few other options and at the insistence of a persistent new friend who had "picked me up" as I explored a local cemetery, I decided to attend mass at a different church on Christmas Day. Again, Rome reigned. Same robes, same candles, same smoking ball thing, same "body" wafers, same goblets, same same.
The alter was also lit, but with a slightly simpler style to the who aesthetic. Like the evening before, the men were dressed in slacks and clean button-downs (mostly Indonesian prints) and the women dressed in their finest, best described as 3rd World sheik - lacy bun covers, glittery yet imperfect machine generated embroidery, traditional sarongs, sequenced sandals, iridescent rayon blouses, sheer sleeves, unmatched accessories.

Babies cooed and cried just like they do in the West. I spent most of the service thinking about what I would cook if I were having a dinner party and planning how I was going to get out of spending the whole of Christmas Day with my graveyard groupie.

The service ended around 10am and using the intense heat (and accompanying sweat)as an excuse, negotiated a successful return to my air conditioned room just in time to watch Oprah's Angel Network Christmas special and read the manual to my newish camera cover to cover. This combination proved quite relaxing. One can't get much more "American" than spending Christmas watching over-produced television programs aimed and making the audience cry and reading the manuals for new toys.