“No one has to die alone.
When your religion does not affect your finances, it is no religion at
all.”
We were standing in front of her
bed while her watcher press the mannualy operated oxygen pump. That type of oxygen pump is common to the
less priviledge patient in that public hospital. It is
a bit uncomfortable to the patient because she just have to rely on the limited
strength of her watcher to pump air for her every second. It was not the best hospital provision for a
patient who needs the utmost care and attention.
“The doctor told us to produce nine thousand pesos for her immediate
operation,” the watcher said. “The
problem is, we are still looking for
funds from among our relatives,” she
added.
The one thousand pesos financial
assistance that we were about to give to her was far too short for the needed
amount. But that is the standard amount
our church can extend to any member who
is confined to a hospital. Unless other members help some more from their own
pocket, the problem will not be addressed.
But that time, we were only two
visitors from the church. And knowing
how slow the church responds, prayer for miracle was our only recourse.
The doctor was taking chance in the
operation. The patient suffered a fatal
stroke. She survived the first
attack. Her half body was left paralyzed
though. I am not sure if she will cheat death once again.
When she was still much better, I remember her, dragging her body near me, asking for my prayers for her wayward son everytime I greeted her goodbye as she exited the sanctuary after our worship service. That was my dealing with her, Sunday after Sunday.
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When she was still much better, I remember her, dragging her body near me, asking for my prayers for her wayward son everytime I greeted her goodbye as she exited the sanctuary after our worship service. That was my dealing with her, Sunday after Sunday.
“Kuya, they need money for the
operation” was what I said to the church member who visited with me, as if he didn’t hear what the doctor said
earlier. Since there was no guarantee
that the patient would recover even if she undergo operation, that brother in
Christ responded, “Wala na tayong magagawa diyan(there’s nothing we can do).
It was not the first time I heard
that remark from him. I was getting used
to it actually. But this case was
different. I knew we can do
something. Deep inside, I would like to
pull all our resources to spend for her operation. But to whose ears should I whisper my wish?
The next time we knew, she was
already dead. The week that she died, we
conducted a memorial service one night.
She lived in a slum area. Her house was too small to accomade us so it
was in the side of the street were the wake was held.
But I was surprised to learn that
her one room house had served as the venue for our mission extension classes
for children every week.
That night I preached about Jesus
preparing a mansion for each of us in heaven.
I guess our departed sister had already experienced the mansion Jesus
was referring to in the book of John when she experienced the blessing of
having her house as a venue for divine purpose.
A few came to that memorial service. After the service, I asked the brother of the
deceased how things are going for them.
He told me that they are still in need of money to fully pay for the funeral homes’ service. In passing I brought that concern to a couple
of key leaders. And it passed by them just
like a thin air. It was received as a
piece of information. Perhaps they are
telling me that we really have done our
part.
Sunday afternoon came. Time
for the interment.. Together with my
son, we prepared to go to the cemetery.
Some members were lingering on the ground floor of the church building
when I passed by. They asked me on where
am I going. I told them I will go to the member’s
interment. My response was received,
again, just as a piece of information. At
least not to one brother who volunteered to accompany us to the interment.
When that member was about to be
laid on her resting place, the relatives were wailing and apologizing for their
shortcomings to her. I was also crying
inside. I was crying because out of the
many members in our church, only three of us cared to accompany her to her
final resting place. I was so sad
because her spiritual family (church)
was absent during the time when she needed them most.
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And that incident became a
nightmare that haunts me to no end. It was a big blow to my faith in the church,
to my sanity as a person. That was the
time when I realized that inequality
still exist in a congregation that always confess that God loves all people.
That after all, money still play a big issue in the church.
I felt that the church was not able
to help that much to prevent her from dying. Well, I know that nobody can
really defy death once it is time but I also believe that nothing should deter
a church from extending all the support it can give to a dying member? But I guess, her death seemed to be the
better option for her, rather than lived in an impoverished condition. I rest my case.
But what violated my sense of solidarity with the disadvantage was the
absence of the general membership during her interment.
Was it only me or was it just really them who unconciously
demonstrate that possession and position still play an integral part of the
church life? In other terms, it goes like this:
“To the wealthy, she was poor. To the statistician she was a number. To this writer, she was the underserved.”
Why would I say that? I cried foul because I remember that whenever
a member who is of certain profession died, careful attention is being shown to
the berieved. The day of interment means
a holiday for the church. Any scheduled
activity should be postponed. Even if
the interment is located to a remote area, the church will make an effort to show up.
But I didn’t see the same concern
shown to the lady in my story.
I was so disappointed and disgusted
because I have high respect for the dead.
I believe Christians are no
exemption in proving that death is also a dignified state. I was depressed because
I believe that times like that could be the perfect testimony to the
relatives of the dead that he or she has a real family in the church.
But just like in other times, I
felt myself alone in this cause. There
were no meeting of the eyes between me and the members.
I am not putting the sole blame to them. Perhaps it was my fault that I was not able to inspire them to rally behind me in that aspect.
I am not putting the sole blame to them. Perhaps it was my fault that I was not able to inspire them to rally behind me in that aspect.
Time came, when during the meeting,
I was able to express my frustration because of the incident. I felt a sense of relief somehow because at least
I was able to voice out my true feelings.
Within our local church, many were
enduring debilitating diseases. Some
members have already succumbed to death.
The manner of showing of affection
is still the same. You got the
most sympathy if you are an active member
and less if you are just a “number” in the church.
Would I able to change that
“culture” in the church? I might try and be triumphant. But there is another path that I would like
to take which I have tried and proved to be more meaningful. It is the path of empowering members in the
midst of power playing in the church.
It is time for me to make the
underserved people in the church to look at their true worth and value and use
them to empower themselves and earned
their rightful place in the church.
