THE UNDERSERVED

“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.

“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.

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.

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.