Like Father, Like Son: Part 2
The sounds of hymns reverberated through the night air. Rattling tambourines drowned out the crowd of voices that sang along in celebration to the holy songs.
Javier and Cecilio walked towards the auditorium entrance, staring as the people inside held their Bible-laden hands up to the sky and swayed in rhythm with the music.
There was a spiritual revival going on in Piedras Negras.
Having made the trip back over the Rio Grande the night before, the boys were preparing for their next attempt when they had been roped into attending the religious event.
“We should be trying to get another ride setup for when we cross. I don’t why we’re here,” Javier said, annoyed.
Cecilio sighed and responded, “Martin wanted us to come. And since he’s going to be a good older brother and let us stay with him in Florida, we’re going to be good younger brothers and do what he wants.”
“Fine. Let’s just catch up with him and sit down,” Javier said, scanning the crowd for Martin, who he soon spotted. The boys made their way to their older brother, taking in the scene around them.
“There’s a lot of people here,” Javier commented out loud, having to nearly shout to be heard only a few feet away.
“A lot of people love the message of the Lord,” Martin responded without taking his eyes off the preacher, who was whipping the masses into a frenzy before diving into another boisterous song.
Javier was only half listening as the auditorium was vibrated by the music pouring out of speakers and the voices of the heaving crowd who sang along.
As the hymn wound down, Javier was wrapped up in his own thoughts about his next attempt to make it into America, and barely heard a word the preacher was bellowing into his microphone.
“Who will you meet when you cross over?!”
The words cut through the fog of Javier’s mind like a scythe through a field of wheat.
“Who will be there to shepherd you to the Promised Land?!”
The holy man looking out over the congregation now had Javier’s full attention. The preacher breathed heavily as patted his sweat-covered brow dry.
“Do not be left standing alone in the darkness! Let His light shine down on you and guide you to your salvation! Put your trust in the Lord and He will reward you!”
The rest of the event seemed to pass in the blink of an eye and Javier soon found himself and his brothers to be some of the few people left in the building, most of the other worshippers having dispersed.
Javier approached the preacher with his brothers following close behind him.
“Hello. My name is Javier and these are my brothers, Cecilio and Martin.”
“Hello, Javier. Cecilio, Martin,” the preacher said, nodding slightly. “Please call me Jose.”
“Thank you for coming and preaching to us, Jose. I’ve never heard someone speak with such passion,” Javier said. “Your words really connected with me.”
Jose smiled and responded, “I’m happy to hear that. Any time someone can hear the Lord’s message and be inspired, then I know I am doing His work.”
“Yes, you are. I didn’t know why I was here, but after hearing you speak I know I was sent here for a reason,” Javier said. “It’s exactly what I needed before I go.”
“Go where?” asked Jose, a slightly puzzled look on his face.
“Across the river,” replied Javier. “Me and Cecilio are going over soon. Actually, we crossed yesterday, but the ride the coyote set up for us never showed up so we came back.”
“I see. That’s a risky trip,” Jose said with a look of concern creeping across his face. “Do you have a ride set up or money to help you along the way?”
“Not really. We gave the last of our money to the coyote and we are still trying to get a ride sorted out,” Javier said, slightly sheepishly.
“Well, that’s not going to work, is it?” Jose said. “Wait here for a minute, ok?”
The preacher walked over to one of his assistants who was cleaning up and spoke with him briefly. The assistant nodded and hurried to a back room.
Jose turned to the brothers and smiled, holding up a single finger, signaling them to hold on for one minute. The assistant soon returned with an envelope that he handed to the preacher, who walked back to where Javier was standing.
“There’s $25 for each of you in there. Whenever you cross, I want you to walk to the first house that you find and ask them how much it will cost for them to drive you into the city,” Jose said as he handed the envelope to Javier. “Please be safe.”
“We couldn’t possibly accept. Please, we’ll be ok,” Javier stammered, trying to hand the envelope back.
Jose held up a hand and shook his head. “You were sent here for a reason. I think it was for me to help you. You are the children of God and it is my duty to serve His will.”
“Thank you so much,” Javier said, extending his hand to shake the preacher’s. “You don’t know how much this means.”
“I think I have an idea,” Jose said, taking Javier’s hand and giving it a firm shake. “Remember, He will be watching over you.”
Cecilio and Martin also exchanged handshakes with the preacher and the brothers set off to make preparations.
As they made their way outside, Javier looked up at the night sky and uttered a silent thank you to the heavens.
The stars seemed to shine a bit brighter that night.
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The deep orange light from the streetlamps below lit up the sand-swept streets, giving the city a sepia-toned appearance. The night was eerily still, making the view out of the hotel room look like a moment of the past frozen in time.
Jonathan realized how close he had gotten to the glass when it fogged up from his breath. He turned around and sat down on the couch in the tiny living room of the hotel suite with his wife and daughter.
“See anything interesting out there?” Betina asked as the giggling baby in her lap twisted around like a feral cat being held against its will.
“Not much to see at 4:30 in the morning,” Jonathan replied. “Wish I could go to sleep. Damn jet lag.”
“Your body thinks it’s eight hours behind what it actually is right now. It’ll go away,” Betina said reassuringly. “It’s just the first night.”
“Yeah, you’re right. First time dealing with it, so I didn’t really know what to expect,” Jonathan said, grabbing the TV remote from the coffee table.
Just as Jonathan began flipping past TV stations that he couldn’t understand, the relative silence was broken by a swell of melodic singing radiating from loudspeakers outside. The tired family hopped off the couch and moved to the window to see where the sound was coming from.
“What is that?” Jonathan asked, scanning the surroundings to find the source of the music.
“It sounds like it’s coming from the mosque over there,” Betina replied. “It must be the call to prayer.”
“Wow, that’s pretty early in the morning,” Jonathan said. “Won’t catch me waking up at five in the morning just to pray.”
“Well, of all the people living in Abu Dhabi, you’re probably not the intended audience,” Betina said, rolling her eyes as she sat back down on the couch.
The haunting chants of the religious summons continued, enveloping the city in its omnipresence.
“It’s actually pretty nice, isn’t it?” Jonathan commented, still gazing out the window.
“It is. Let’s see if you feel the same way after hearing it five times a day for two years,” Betina said, slightly chuckling.
The last notes of the prayer call faded out, leaving a silence that hung from every corner of the room. The only sound was the occasional snippiness of a young Emma Watson, Betina having found an English-language station playing a Harry Potter movie.
Jonathan was still standing at the window when he finally said, “You know, it’s been decades since I’ve been to church. Except for weddings and funerals.”
“You mentioned something about that at Chubby’s wedding. You never really seemed interested in religion, other than to complain about it,” Betina replied without taking her eyes off the TV.
“Well, my parents made me go when I was young even though they didn’t go themselves,” Jonathan said as he turned to face his wife. “It’s funny because they met at church, but for as long as I can remember they didn’t go anymore.”
“Maybe they just wanted you kids out of the house for some peace,” Betina said jokingly.
“Whatever the reason was, I hated going. My Uncle Cecilio would come pick us up at like 6 AM every Sunday and take us,” Jonathan said with a sigh. “I would always fall asleep in the car and Abby would always pinch me hard to wake me up. Like it was my fault that a 10 year-old kid was tired that early in the morning.”
“God, why did you have to go so early?” Betina asked.
“Cecilio was the preacher at his church and we had to go there. We had to drive like an hour down to Manatee county just to get there,” responded Jonathan. “I was glad once I got old enough to say that I didn’t want to go anymore.”
“And now you live in a country that follows religious law,” Betina commented. “I think that’s called irony.”
Jonathan turned back to face the window, noticing the darkness had begun to cede its grip to a slight glow from the approaching sun.
“Just never found a use for religion. Why sit on a hard bench to hear about the ways that I’m damned?” Jonathan asked no one in particular.
“I don’t know,” he continued. “I guess it’s just hard to believe in something that has caused so many people to do bad things and justify it by quoting something translated from centuries-old writing.”
“There’s lots of people who would say that the same writing has led to a lot of good things, too,” Betina responded. “Not everyone has had the same experience with religion that you’ve had.”
Jonathan squinted slightly as ambient light continued to creep across the city.
“That’s true, I guess,” he said, still looking out the window. “I suppose anything that makes someone create something as nice as that call to prayer can’t be all that bad.”
Rays of sunlight began to peek out over the horizon, washing over worshippers on their way to the mosque. The first dawn of Jonathan’s new life was brighter than any before.
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If you look up the word faith, you will undoubtedly get two different definitions.
One will say something to the effect that faith is the complete confidence in someone or something. The other will talk about belief in religious doctrine based on something spiritual, something unseen.
Whichever definition applies to you, faith is important. It drives us all in different forms and to different goals.
It was important to my father, when his religious faith gave him the confidence that he would have a better life than the one he had in the tiny desert town he grew up in. It was faith that time spent picking crops would eventually give way to something better. Faith that his children wouldn’t have to live the same struggles he did.
Faith was important to me, too, having moved my family to the other side of the world. My belief that we would be better off drove me to push through the jet lag and culture shock.
I will never be confused for a deeply religious man. Like many other Millennials, although I tend to be closer to Gen X, religion just isn’t as important to me as my parents.
I guess that’s what made the move to the Middle East so formative for me.
It was hearing the first call to prayer of the day as I worked on research papers while I finished my degree online. It was walking down the little shop connected to the mosque around the corner because I forgot milk. It was eating behind temporary barriers at Dubai Mall during Ramadan.
I had no choice but to live in a culture of faith. It was inescapable.
It was that influence of belief that made me move back to the US and be willing to uproot once again when it was clear things weren’t working out. It made Cambodia and Hungary, places once out thought out of my reach, options to settle down for a little while. It’s what will make my next move easier.
Even if our lives are different in multitudes of ways, faith and belief is a common thread for all of us. We have faith in people, in our society, in the objects in our lives. How we interpret that faith can change a lot in life.
Lack of faith might keep you in a job you hate or make you quit one morning and hope for the best. An abundance of faith can lead to resounding success or crushing failure.
All I know is that without it, my father wouldn’t have crossed that river and I wouldn’t have crossed that ocean. As much as we are different people in so many ways, it’s the one thing that binds us as father and son, if nothing else.
