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Greetings from Guam "If you're going to do a thing, you should do it thoroughly. If you're going to be a Christian, you may as well be a Catholic." - Muriel Spark (b. 1918), British novelist I am convinced that no one has any idea what it means to be thoroughly Catholic, until they have spent some time on Guam. I thought I knew what it meant to be a Catholic. After all, I did time at a parochial school. I served nine years at St. Michael's, a maximum security facility in upstate New York, complete with ruler-toting nuns. Picture if you will, the outlaw Josey Wales sporting a rosary, black robe, habit and packing two twelve-inch hickory rulers in his holster. That was my 4th grade math teacher, Sister Mary Corporal Punishment. She could produce a ruler out of thin air and whack you ten times before you even realized that your five-pound lead pencil (which was propped up against your shoulder) had inadvertenly violated the four-inch boundary in which one was to write. I believe this is where the term "crossing the thin blue line" originated. Anyway, I was cannonized, or paroled - I forget which - after eighth grade and went on to wreak havoc in the public school system. But the point of all this, is that I picked up a few things about Catholicism during my nine years. I learned the following: * 7 of the 10 commandments, * the sign of the cross, * incense makes me sneeze, * how not to swear when being beaten silly with a large ruler, * the Act of Contrition, * and some other religious stuff. If by chance, there are still some naysayers among you who doubt my expertise regarding the Catholic faith, try this one on for size - I was an altar boy for three years. In the dictionary under altar boy, it also says 'acolyte', which is "a devoted follower or attendant." How do you like them apples? So, now we have clearly established that I do indeed know a great deal about what it means to be a Catholic...ahhh, a stateside Catholic that is. On Guam, my fellow Catholics simply refer to me as "that ignorant heathen." Believe it or not, there are some Catholic customs and holidays here that even I have never heard of - difficult to fathom, I know. Seriously, one aspect of life here on Guam which has impressed me the most is the deep devotion to the Catholic faith and the central role that the church plays in everyday life. I have commented before on the beautiful cemeteries and the fact that nearly ALL the grave stones are adorned with flowers, candles, and statues...365 days a year. The dearly departed are not forgotten here. But perhaps the most interesting custom to me is the Rosary. In the Pacific Daily News, on any day, there are death and funeral announcements. Included in announcements is a rosary schedule. When a person dies, the family holds a nightly rosary, for nine consecutive nights leading up to the funeral mass and burial, followed by another nine nights of the rosary. The first nine nights are open to friends and distant relatives, while nine nights after the interment are for the immediate family. The rosaries are either held at the home of the deceased (or another close relative) or at the church, and last anywhere from 30 minutes to a couple of hours (the saying of the rosary lasts 20 to 30 minutes, but sometimes people stay for an hour or so afterwards). Often, food and drinks are served - doughnuts, cookies, sandwiches, coffee, juice, and the like. Sometimes meals are served and, other times, no refreshments are offered. Then, there are the anniversary rosary announcements in the PDN. These are rosaries to commemorate the anniversary of the death of a loved one. The rosary starts nine days prior to the anniversary date (again, runs for nine consecutive days, usually held around eight o'clock in the evening) and concludes with an anniversary mass. Anniversay rosaries are usually held for the 1st and 5th anniversaries, but the family may, and many do, hold 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and 10th anniversary rosaries. I have tried to find out the significance behind the nine days, but my sources do not seem to know the answer to this. I am guessing it may go back to the days of the Spanish Jesuits, but the exact relevance of the nine days before and after has left me stumped. If anyone knows, drop me a line. Regardless, I think it is a comforting and moving tradition. I know I would feel a lot better about death, if I knew that hundreds of people would be praying for me for 18 days straight - we all know that I'm going to need all the help I can get when my time comes. ("Bless me Father for I have sinned, it has been...let me see...hmmm...1980...ten plus six...plus...Excuse me Father, you wouldn't happen to have a calculator with you?") Hafa Adai, Jim Copyright © 1999 |
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