banhocheiroso

The strangest thing...

About ten minutes into the Sunday night meeting at the Novo Horizonte Renewed Baptist Church, a man came in and spoke to the pastor. His blue shirt, clerical collar and smart little brief-case announced him as a Padre, a catholic priest. He went with the Pastor to the vestry (appropriate name, for once) emerging shortly thereafter dressed in full priestly robes. Please do not ask for more details – I do not know a chasuble from a chancel, having been brought up in pure SB circles with no bad habits. What he was wearing is generally called a batina here, and was to say the least an unusual sight in a small neighbourhood Baptist church.

The effect on the congregation was interesting. You could feel the tension. I was going to preach, so was more than a little interested, but didn’t have a clue as to whether this was an ecumenical move on the pastor’s part which could be difficult to handle. Edomm, further down our pew, had the same thought, leaning over to say, “If he leads communion, I am out of here.”

Then the pastor called me over and out to the vestry, together with the priest. “This is Father José. God is working in his life. He was passing this church on the way to take mass in a home and he felt he had to come in and give up the priesthood for ever. He has asked if he may use the batina one last time, taking it off at the end of the service.”

I didn’t say much. We went back in. We had communion. The pastor gave a robust word about “believers in good standing with an evangelical church” and the deacons did not offer the bread or wine to the priest. We were a bit keyed up and ate the bread at the wrong moment.

I preached. Padre José did not have a Bible. Cora offered him one. He refused. He looked at his watch and shuffled throughout the sermon, while the congregation sat, extremely quiet (little of the usual Glória a Deus! and Alleluia!) and attentive. I was conscious that many were praying, for me and for the priest. I preached on the three moments when Jesus tells us why he came, in Mark.

At the end, the pastor prayed. Father José came forward, took off the batina and clerical collar, and the pastor prayed for him. There was no particular emotion, except for a number of ladies from the church who thought it was all wonderful.

There was a lot of conversation with the José after the service, and I took a photo. He is apparently living a little out of town, in a shack on a small holding, together with a bishop and another priest. All want to leave the Roman Catholic Church. At the time of writing, Pastor Wilson has been taking them food and (possibly) money.

What should we think? This may have been a wonderful moment of spiritual transformation. It may have been a piece of theatre. Even to write these two sentences side by side is painful, but it must be done.

Thankfully, Pastor Wilson is not a fool. I know that he was cautious on the Sunday night, but not wanting to deny what might be of the Spirit. I am telling the story as it happened because it is such a good example of evangelical life here.

1) Anything can happen. Think of a crazy thing, and treble it.

2) God is doing wonderful things, saving people from all backgrounds. How glad and thankful we should be!

3) There is no limit to the fraud and deceit within the church, and the fact that with the inequalities present in the society, it is perfectly possible to make a living off the church, in many ways.

4) Telling the difference is often very hard.

5) Saying that you are not sure and that we need discernment is also hard. Brazil was post-modern before anywhere else, because here everything has to be cuddly and positive and nice – and asking tough questions is not on the agenda.

Please pray for José. Please pray for Pastor Wilson, and for Edomm, who may be discipling the three in the shack. And pray for an open spirit combined with discernment, without which the Brazilian evangelical church is doomed.