Keep the Faith

Reconciliation is central to East Timor's future, reports Jo Barrett from Dili Cathedral, as Progressio prepares to step up its campaign for justice in the war-torn country.

Standing beneath Dili's imaginatively named 'Jesus statue' you can see all the way along the coast and miles out to sea. At over 30ft, the imposing figure of Christ is Timor's answer to Rio's Redeemer and tells its own tales of Timor's unsettled past.

This Jesus is a relic of Indonesian rule, and has all the scars to prove it. Arms outstretched, the imposing figure is in serious need of some TLC. He stands atop a spherical dome which doubles as a globe - though a number of the continents which once made up the grandiose world map have noticeably rusted and dropped off. The flood lights at each corner of the statue, which would have illuminated Jesus for miles around, have been ripped from their plinths. There is an air of sadness. It seems few visitors make the 15 minute trip to see Jesus anymore.

Yet, visit Dili Cathedral on a Sunday morning and it's a very different story. From 7.30am crowds flock to mass and by the time we arrive at a quarter to eight we can barely get in the door. The pews are packed. Those who arrive late have to perch on the very edges of their seats. The stairwells are full; some people poke their heads around the main doorway; others sit on the floor. The sea of heads seems to go on and on into the distance.

Like the Jesus statue, Dili cathedral could do with a lick of paint. Most of the light bulbs which make up the rudimentary chandeliers have blown, casting a dim light over the priest. Some of the pale blue ceiling panels are starting to peel off, while others are stained with damp. The stations of the cross are so modest you can barely make them out.

But, none of this deters the congregation. They have clearly taken care to dress in their Sunday best. Their shirts are clean and ironed. Their hair is washed and brushed. They wear sturdy, neat shoes. And they listen, many intently, to the service.

Today's sermon focuses on reconciliation. The priest reminds us that nothing is possible without acceptance and understanding and that the Timorese must endeavour to reconcile with each other - and accept the challenges of a long and bloody past - if they are to move on. The priest finishes and people begin to sing. As they do, I cast my eyes out of the open window and notice a young girl, half naked, playing in the dirt. She soon disappears into a white tent, stamped with the now familiar blue letters of the UN's refugee agency. The UNHCR still provides shelter for hundreds of internally displaced Timorese, more than two years after their houses were razed to the ground in the devastating internal fighting of 2006.

Despite the palpable neglect of these once formidable symbols of Catholicism - the statue of Jesus and the nation's largest cathedral - religion is still very much alive in East Timor. It is really little wonder.

In mass, for the first time since I arrived in Timor, I could feel the legacy of 24 years of Indonesian occupation and ten years of truly fragile independence in the air. I could see the weariness in people's faces. And when they sang, I could hear the tiredness in their voices. But, still they come to church, week after week and year after year. Something keeps them coming back and I don't have the sense that they are likely to stop.

I don't know if it will be this decade or next, but I feel sure that in generations to come, when the Timorese are finally up on their feet, crumbling Dili cathedral and the neglected statue of Jesus will be top of the list for a makeover. After all they have been through, the Timorese people still have so much faith.

print this page