A. is a big man; tall, stocky, full of presence. He is a professor of literature in Congo-Brazzeville, and he is one of us now. Last night, he told the story of how he found our faith. His brother, it seems, works in an elegant hotel and A. had occasion to visit. During his stay, he met a white man from the United States with whom he struck up an seemingly improbable friendship; the man spoke no French, and A. spoke no English, yet they understood one another, and laughter was the bond between them: “He was so funny,” A. told us through our intrepid translator, St. Vincent of Nairobi. (I’ll explain in a future post.)
One night as they were talking, the man asked A. what religion he was. A. responded by saying he was an animist, a traditional, earth-centered religion with variations throughout Africa. But he was planning to give up his beliefs, A told the man, because people thought he was the devil; he was trying hard to become a Christian. But the laughing white man from America said, “No.”
“There is some place where you can be what you are,” the man told A. He kept saying that, again and again.
The next day, as the man was leaving the hotel, he found A., and gave him a slip of paper, with these words written on it: UUA, 25 Beacon St., Boston, Massachusetts. For months, A looked at the paper, then wrote a letter, asking for information, daring to hope.
The answer took a long time, but when it came, it was in French–from Jean-Claude Barbier, leader of the French Unitarian group. A. and Jean-Claude corresponded; A. learned more about Unitarian Universalism. Finally, in 2004, A. gathered his family members and friends, and started a fellowship in his living room.
Today, there are 33 members of that fellowship in Congo-Brazzeville, along with many more “sympathizers. I know they will join us someday,” A. says.
My heart is full.
