Attention, please?

There was a visiting archbishop at Mass today. He read the Gospel, where Jesus warned the crowd against "all forms of greed", telling the parable of a rich man who received an extremely bountiful crop, built massive barns in order to store all these goods and increase his considerable wealth...and promptly died the next day. The basic message, I suppose, is a re-iteration of the old adage "you can't take it with you".

That wasn't the focus of the sermon, however. Instead, the archbishop spoke about life in his home country of the Philippines. He comes from an area on the island's western coast located between the sea and the mountains. The people live primarily on fish and rice, often tithing these wares in lieu of money so the Church can sell them to finance community projects. The weather is unpredictable; due to the location it is almost always hot, rainstorms last a long time and flooding is common.

He talked about the people slogging through knee-level muddy water to get to mass on Sundays and about having to ride on horseback just to access his smaller parishes in the mountains. He described the government's persecution of priests who give aid to poor people that happen to have communist leanings, and how he would then work to get them out of jail. At last he touched on the day's Gospel, noting that the greatest Christian act is selfless generosity.

The second collection for the day was to raise funds for this area of the world. It was, all things considered, a good pitch; rather than trying to guilt the parishoners into opening up their wallets, he instead portrayed these people as fellow Christians and (more to the point) fellow human beings who do not share the privileges afforded by our land of plenty. We often forget that most of what we have is a result of where we were born, the one thing over which we had absolutely no control.

What really got me thinking, though, was his description of people slogging through mud and navigating mountain passages just to get to Church. It's particularly impressive when one considers that "I'm too tired" is actually considered a viable excuse for missing Mass in Canada.

In addition, a small child in the back wailed for most of the sermon and at least two cellphones rang. Even people who are there aren't totally "there"; we are still so inextricably linked to the outside world that we can't even manage thirty little minutes of undivided attention.

But then, the archbishop didn't lay on guilt, so I shouldn't either.

It just gives me something to think about the next time I walk through clear streets and eat something other than fish and rice.