As I settled into my chair, ready to share my first Chilean meal, I glanced up and around the table at my host family. My host dad indicated that we join hands, and my host mom gently squeezed my fingers as we began the blessing.
First, he thanked God for my safe arrival, praying for my continued health and safety as I begin my new life with them. He expressed gratitude for the food before us, the day ahead of us, and the travels behind us. The prayer continued: blessings for his family, their two daughters, their three grandchildren, their son-in-laws—and all of my family as well. I quickly realized this blessing was no simple rendition of Johnny Appleseed; it was a prayer that involved thought and sincere gratitude, a daily affirmation of God's presence at work in their lives.
So it has been at every meal I have eaten with my host family, which sometimes totals four in one day. Yet God's presence is not only acknowledged at the dinner table; He is also present in daily conversations, in daily actions, in daily struggles. If something good has happened, it is due to God's grace. If someone is sick, or confused, or stressed, then we will pray about it together. Posted on the refrigerator, a sticky note reads, "God lives in me!" Beneath that, another person has added, "Me too!" with a tiny doodle of a cat. My host mom has pointed the drawing out to me multiple times, laughing and smiling on each occasion. To her, El Señor is wonderful and powerful, generous, and gracious.
But for other people here in Chile, he is simply not. God is not at work in their lives, nor is he at work in the lives of others. According to such people, the Church is a means of manipulation, and life basically is what it is, end of story. I described the religious enthusiasm of my family to a person my age here, and his response was the equivalent of, "Oh, that sucks." To him and many other people here such spiritual zeal is irritating and misplaced, an anachronism in contemporary Chilean culture. Just yesterday, in my Religion and Culture class (a mandatory credit at the Catholic University), my professor asked the class if we believed religion and faith are more than a societal construction. Amid the class of 35 students, one person eventually raised her hand. "Is that all?" my professor asked, scanning the rows of desks. The room remained silent.
Here, in Chile, a country where divorce was legalized less than five years ago, many view the Church with skepticism and with doubt. It would be easy to claim this line of belief is generational, that the Church in Chile has lost the young but retained its older followers. Sure, it would be easy to argue this, but I'm not sure it would be accurate. While it does seem that young people here are increasingly liberal, distancing themselves from defunct policies such as the divorce ban, there are also congregations that are growing and thriving, fueled by younger members.
Even more surprising to me, knowing Chile's Catholic history, is the depth and the strength of the Protestant movement here. Though I was initially struck by the fervor and enthusiasm of my host mother's faith, I was downright surprised when she told me that she and her husband are Protestant, not Catholic. Although both my host parents were schooled in the Catholic tradition, they eventually switched to a Protestant church, citing various reasons and preferences. The congregation they now belong to is dominated by younger couples and children; people my age direct the music in the contemporary service, while older members clap along to the beat, following and singing along to words projected on the main screen. During the week church members divide into various age groups for Bible study, meeting to discuss scripture and share in fellowship. Here, amid guitars and sunlit windows, the new meshes with the old, and an ancient biblical tradition takes on a new, contemporary form.
It is still less than a month since I arrived here in Chile, and I know that my first observances are skewed and colored by my limited experiences. I have yet to attend a Catholic service here, and I have only had a few sessions in my various theology courses. I hope to talk more with young people here about their views on Christianity, and other religions as well whether they be positive or negative. Until then, I'll continue to share with and learn from my host parents, two individuals quite open and inclusive in their faith. Each night, as my host mom bids me sweet dreams, telling me to sleep con los angelitos, I am reminded and challenged to be just as generous and compassionate in my faith.
So it has been at every meal I have eaten with my host family, which sometimes totals four in one day. Yet God's presence is not only acknowledged at the dinner table; He is also present in daily conversations, in daily actions, in daily struggles. If something good has happened, it is due to God's grace. If someone is sick, or confused, or stressed, then we will pray about it together. Posted on the refrigerator, a sticky note reads, "God lives in me!" Beneath that, another person has added, "Me too!" with a tiny doodle of a cat. My host mom has pointed the drawing out to me multiple times, laughing and smiling on each occasion. To her, El Señor is wonderful and powerful, generous, and gracious.
But for other people here in Chile, he is simply not. God is not at work in their lives, nor is he at work in the lives of others. According to such people, the Church is a means of manipulation, and life basically is what it is, end of story. I described the religious enthusiasm of my family to a person my age here, and his response was the equivalent of, "Oh, that sucks." To him and many other people here such spiritual zeal is irritating and misplaced, an anachronism in contemporary Chilean culture. Just yesterday, in my Religion and Culture class (a mandatory credit at the Catholic University), my professor asked the class if we believed religion and faith are more than a societal construction. Amid the class of 35 students, one person eventually raised her hand. "Is that all?" my professor asked, scanning the rows of desks. The room remained silent.
Here, in Chile, a country where divorce was legalized less than five years ago, many view the Church with skepticism and with doubt. It would be easy to claim this line of belief is generational, that the Church in Chile has lost the young but retained its older followers. Sure, it would be easy to argue this, but I'm not sure it would be accurate. While it does seem that young people here are increasingly liberal, distancing themselves from defunct policies such as the divorce ban, there are also congregations that are growing and thriving, fueled by younger members.
Even more surprising to me, knowing Chile's Catholic history, is the depth and the strength of the Protestant movement here. Though I was initially struck by the fervor and enthusiasm of my host mother's faith, I was downright surprised when she told me that she and her husband are Protestant, not Catholic. Although both my host parents were schooled in the Catholic tradition, they eventually switched to a Protestant church, citing various reasons and preferences. The congregation they now belong to is dominated by younger couples and children; people my age direct the music in the contemporary service, while older members clap along to the beat, following and singing along to words projected on the main screen. During the week church members divide into various age groups for Bible study, meeting to discuss scripture and share in fellowship. Here, amid guitars and sunlit windows, the new meshes with the old, and an ancient biblical tradition takes on a new, contemporary form.
It is still less than a month since I arrived here in Chile, and I know that my first observances are skewed and colored by my limited experiences. I have yet to attend a Catholic service here, and I have only had a few sessions in my various theology courses. I hope to talk more with young people here about their views on Christianity, and other religions as well whether they be positive or negative. Until then, I'll continue to share with and learn from my host parents, two individuals quite open and inclusive in their faith. Each night, as my host mom bids me sweet dreams, telling me to sleep con los angelitos, I am reminded and challenged to be just as generous and compassionate in my faith.
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