I was Adopted by Nuns

As most of you know, many people would label me a spiritual, religious, devout, etc. person. You wouldn’t be wrong, of course. But sometimes being a member of the faithful can lead you into some pretty funny relationships and situations. Some would say by chance or coincidence. I would say by Divine Providence.

Take, for instance, how I found my current church where I attend mass every Sunday. In the first months of my time in Madagascar, I used to attend mass at the Cathedral in Andohalo. It made sense at the time because it’s the only church with a website, so finding mass times was easier. The problem with going to Andohalo is that it’s quite a hike, literally. Andohalo is the tallest point in the city. I live on the hill next to it. The quickest way to get there is about a mile walk which eventually turns into a short hike when you reach the quatre-cent-seize, which translates from French to English as the 416. Why the name? Because there are 416 steps from bottom to top. And I can confirm that the name is rightfully given as I have verified the number of steps on more than one occasion.

There is also a Stations of the Cross along the 416, which are rightfully placed considering the long climb each morning would make me sweat what I could assume to be drops of blood. And for several months, it was my practice to trudge up those steps, asking the Lord Almighty to forgive me for whatever sins merited such a climb as penance, walk into the crowded cathedral, and sit through a mass that would range anywhere between 2 and 3 hours long, and sometimes longer.

But the Lord is merciful and makes use of unusual situations. Such was the case on Independence Day last June when the road to the 416 was cut off and I was forced to take the long way around. There wasn’t really any hope in reaching mass on time, so I started the detour with what little hopes I had. And by the will of God, I saw a little nun walking on the street all by herself. The sight of which I thought to myself, “I’ll be damned. I bet she’s going to mass.”

Of course, my suspicion was correct. And after approaching her and in a mix of Malagasy and French, asked her whether she was going to mass and if I could join her because the road had been closed by the army. She was pretty friendly and took me to this tiny chapel where maybe 100 Malagasy gather for mass at the little parish each Sunday.

From that day on I have attended this little church because it’s the same distance as the cathedral, I don’t need to climb a literal mountain to get there, and the masses are typically an hour and fifteen minutes as opposed to the standard 2-3 hours at the cathedral. Mind you, in both churches, no one really talks to me. I’m a regular now, so my presence is not out of the ordinary, and the children have finally stopped staring at me. But despite what could be considered a cold shoulder, I knew I had become a member of the community when I was approached by one of the religious sisters back in October.

As you know, I went back to the States for a short trip in September/October, for which I missed two Sundays here in Madagascar. One the groups of nuns who regularly attend the church, noticed my absence and got worried about me. To their relief, I appeared again in October in good health. One of them approached me on the street on my way home, and after chatting for a bit, we realized that we lived on the same street, only a 2 minute walk away actually. She was so excited to discover this and invited me to attend their Tuesday and Wednesday daily masses. Naturally, I get up early every Tuesday and Wednesday to leave the house by 5:20am to get there for 5:30am mass.

It's quite the sight to see. Just imagine this tiny little chapel with anywhere between 10-20 little Malagasy nuns, the tallest of which reaches my chin, dutifully praying while there’s this giant white man praying along with them in the back. My presence is so normal at their community now that if I’m sick and miss a Tuesday or Wednesday, one of them will call or text me to make sure I’m okay. Needless to say, I’ve been adopted by a bunch of nuns.

What I really want to share with you, however, is the dinner I had with them on the feast day of St. Francis de Sales. Francis de Sales is one of their patrons and also my favorite saint. He’s a doctor of the Catholic Church who developed a spirituality for the common man and woman, a way of living the devout life in the simple tasks, duties, responsibilities, and relationships we have in every vocation every day. He and his Salesian Spirituality have played immense roles in the evolution of how we interpret and live out our relationship with God in the most ordinary of actions, thoughts, habits, and intentions.

Anyways, his feast was back in January, so the nuns invited me to their evening mass and dinner to follow. I’m not always a social person, and I typically avoid night activities in Madagascar because it can be dangerous going home. But since I live fairly close and there was a group of men who could walk me home, I decided to stay and was so happy that I did.

The nuns, the four priests, and I had such blast. We ate, we sang, we danced. It was wonderful. Joy abounds when there is true fellowship. And it is in these moments that the love of God spreads from one person to the next. I wish I had more video to show you, such as the line dance called the afindrafindrao where one of the nuns finally realized exactly how much taller I am than everyone else. But please enjoy the video I do have. And if I manage to find the video where I'm dancing, rest assured that I will share it with you in the future.

I think it goes without saying that it will be hard to leave Madagascar in July. I’ve been thinking of it more and more recently, and despite all the difficulties and frustrations that are unavoidable, there is something about the community I have found myself in, whether it is with English educators, US Embassy staff, local street vendors, or even my adopted family of nuns. Maybe that will be the topic of another blog.

For now, know that you are in my prayers each morning. All I ask is that you do the same for me.

May God be praised.