Natal di Indonesia

Nativity Ikon in the church of Aghía Epiphanía

The doors! The doors!

Christmas in Yndonesia.

What better place to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ than in a land where most people know of him, but don’t know Him? What do I mean? Well, this is the land of mosque and minaret, where five times a day starting at four in the morning the unearthly cry of the mu’ezzin calls the people to prayer. They know of Jesus Christ as Isa al-Masih, second to last prophet of al-Islam. I’m using Arabic words now, because in bahasa Indonesia He’s called Yesus Kristus, the Christian name for Him. But when a Muslim thinks of the One we call Jesus, they call Him ‘Isa’ and regard him not as God in the flesh, but as a prophet, born of a virgin, and taken into heaven. Strangely, they also call him kalimat Allah, ‘Word of God.’

Entrance gate to Aghía Epiphanía

Islam believes in the annunciation to Mary by the angel Gabriel and the mystic, virginal conception of Jesus. It believes in what it calls al-Injil, ‘the gospel,’ but it is not the same gospel that Christians believe. Our gospels are, from Islam’s point of view, corrupted. That’s why Muhammad had to come and restore the truth of al-Injil, which is none other than the truth of al-Islam, ‘submission [to Allah]’. Islam also does not believe that Jesus was crucified, nor that He died, was buried, and resurrected on the third day. ‘Impossible! Allah would never treat His holy prophet Isa like that!’ No, of course not. God is faithful. Even if Jesus were not His Only-Begotten Son, He still wouldn’t sentence him to death on a cross.

Aghía Epiphanía Orthodox Church

So, Islam believes in Christmas but not in Pascha, not in Easter, not in the resurrected—but only in the ascended—Lord, no, not Lord, but prophet. There is only One God, Allah, and He has no partner. Not a wife, not a son, not even a friend… No, He does have a friend, yes, maybe a few. The prophets, for sure, and even people like Muhammad’s son-in-law Ali, who is called ‘friend of God’ and who, oddly enough, suffered and died not unlike Jesus, except that nobody in Islam ‘dies for the sins of the people.’ There is no such thing as atonement. If you’re chosen by Allah, you’re saved. If not, you’re damned. It’s as simple as that. Try to live righteously anyway, because there will be a Judgment. On that, all agree.

Ikonastásion and Soléa

Back to Christmas in Yndonesia, where Christianity in two of its forms is one of six recognized faiths: Islam, Kristen Protestan, Kristen Katolik, Hindu, Buddha, and Khonghucu. The last named faith is Confucianism, the latest to be added to the original five. Yudhie and I, as well as our friends in Bali, are (Eastern) Orthodox Christians, as yet an unrecognized faith, and so slightly illegal. How slightly? Well, it depends on which direction the wind is blowing. In some places in the country, Orthodoxy is left alone, in other places it is molested. As it is, the church Yudhie and I belong to, the Greek Church, even in Yndonesia, has a certain amount of respect that keeps it out of trouble, usually.

Naós - The nave

The Christmas liturgy was going to be held on Christmas Day, but then Yudhie got a text message saying that they had changed the time to December 24. It seems, that day worked out better for most people. Our church, Aghía Epiphanía, Holy Theophany, is in Jakarta in an undisclosed location for reasons of security. The building has a blue dome and looks like a church to us, but it is unmarked by cross or name, and it is classified as a multipurpose structure. It really is a beautiful building inside and out, as you can see from the photos, and is lacking nothing that an Orthodox temple has in America or Europe. The congregation comes together from all over the Jakarta metropolitan area.

Outdoor baptistry, for triple immersion baptism

We rented a car with driver for the whole day. He picked us up, drove us there, then took off while we were in the service, and came back to pick us up afterwards to take us home. When Yudhie goes to church on Sunday, he and Johnson, his fellow teacher who is a catechumen, ‘under instruction to become Orthodox,’ take the bus into Jakarta to go to church and return home. Because it was Christmas Eve and we didn’t want to take a chance at missing the service or be stranded due to a shortage of taxis (as happened to us on New Year’s Eve), we hired the car. We were worried that rush hour traffic would make the journey a two hour trip or longer, so we left early, and ended up being too early.

Aghía Epiphanía from the back, blue dome faintly visible

No problem, because we were able to help with some of the preparations. One thing we had to do was erect some pavilions in front of the church for our ‘police protection.’ This is one of the facts of life for Christians here—there’s always a slight risk in going to church, because militant Muslims sometimes molest church goers. The local police insists on being ‘rented’ by churches to ‘protect’ them from possible violence during holiday services, and they have to be duly and honorably lodged, hence the pavilions. Our police protection didn’t show up until well after nightfall and the service had been in progress for some time. There really was no danger. Most Muslims in Yndonesia are not militant.

Yudhie

Because we arrived early, as I said, we helped out, at least Yudhie did, straightening the hangings on the ikons, helping the sacristan set up for the services. As a foreign visitor I was mostly made to sit down while people brought me tea and snacks and engaged me in conversation. That was, for me, one of the most pleasurable experiences of coming to the church. I also met and had great fellowship with the youth pastors, especially Oziel, who was Yudhie’s sponsor when he was chrismated (joined) into this church. People of all ages and walks of life came and talked to me, most of them in excellent English. This is a middle class congregation for the most part, to whom English is second nature.

Fr Gabriel

None of the photos in this post were taken during the service. I remember taking a few photos during the service, but either we lost them or forgot to download them. One of them was of the choir, of which Yudhie and Oziel are members. Too bad, but it is almost impossible to take photos during a service. That’s not what we’re there for. Fr Gabriel, whom I met when he first arrived wearing street clothes, reminded me of an athletic coach. He is very dynamic and focused, yet very approachable and has the gift of rapport with people of all ages. His celebration of the liturgy is also energetic and intense, quick and lively. ‘This is how liturgy should be celebrated!’ I couldn’t help saying to myself.

Youth choir

Before the liturgy began, there was, as in most churches, a Christmas pageant and music performance, which took place on a stage facing outward into a sheltered area on the side of the church. Fr Gabriel told the story also of Saint Nicholas, the ancient Church father who in the Western world evolved into Father Christmas and Santa Claus. This is a universal practice in Orthodoxy—reclaiming the saint from the santa, and helping the children understand his historic reality and spiritual meaning. That doesn’t put a stop to gift giving or dampen the ‘Christmas spirit.’ Instead, if done properly, it puts everything in perspective, and gives kids a foundation to build on that doesn’t come from modern myths.

Oziel with youth group

What else? It’s very hard to describe what goes on in the divine liturgy, especially during holy seasons like Christmas and Easter. You just have to be there. Other things I noticed, as ‘an American in Paradise’ was the real friendliness and camaraderie of the congregation. There was absolutely no one left out at any time. People were constantly involving each other in various ways. As is usual in Orthodoxy, the kids had freedom of movement yet a respectful attitude. Very close, next door in fact, was a very large evangelical church that was also celebrating. Because of the heat, all our windows were open, and the sound of our neighbors partying was mixed with the sound of our hymns. A strange combination.

Bishop's seat

Even stranger was the sound of the mu’ezzin from a nearby mosque chanting the call to prayer. At first it seemed to be an intrusion in our liturgy, but after awhile one didn’t hear it anymore. Our ears just tuned out the competing sounds of Christian partiers next door and Muslim chanters across the street. ‘This would never be tolerated in America,’ I thought to myself. But here, what I noticed is how people don’t just put up with people, grudgingly, they almost seem not to notice when their space is being impinged. Maybe this is what comes from living in close quarters day in, day out. Jakarta has to be one of the most densely populated places on earth. It does feel crowded. But to me crowded doesn’t feel oppressive.

Outdoor prayer niche

Before the service, and after, people were encouraged to feast. This surprised me, at least the feasting before the liturgy, since we fast for a minimum of six hours before receiving the holy mysteries. I asked them about this, the eating and drinking before the service, as this never happens in America, and I was assured that it was allowed just on this day, as an ikonomía, a dispensation. Ordinarily, I was told, they follow the universal Orthodox custom. The various hardships that people endure to be able to come to church are compensated somewhat by the relaxing of various rules that obtain in the West, where being a Christian and going to church are almost effortless. Once again, reason and love rule here.

Jakarta neighborhood street

When we arrived home it was almost midnight. We had the rental car for exactly twelve hours, from noon to midnight, and we were a little concerned that we might exceed the twelve hours, because if that happened, we would have to pay for another twelve. The driver was an honest man and delivered us to our door even more quickly than he brought us to the church. Of course, there was little traffic at that hour, and I finally got to see the freeway uncrowded by motorcycles. Traffic at half past eleven on Christmas Eve was almost at a normal, not rush hour, concentration. So we arrived home safely, well-fed by both earthly and heavenly food, and our coach did not turn into a pumpkin. A merry Christmas, indeed.

Johnson, Irini, and Oziel

The next two days, Christmas Day and Boxing Day (what the day after Christmas is called in the ‘Great White North’—Canada) were days of rest for Yudhie and me. We got to know each other some more, practiced living together, and got ready for the next trip on our itinerary, on Tuesday.

And that would be… Bali !