I had a unique experience this morning. I was able to visit a church relatively incognito. It was not a United Methodist church, but it was very close to my home (I was able to walk there in less than 10 minutes). There were a few people there whom I have met before, but none of them saw me until the end.
This was the first in what I plan to be several visits to area churches. I decided a while ago that if I am going to truly be in ministry with my community then I need to be out in the community more. This includes challenges to be in public more on week days, but it also includes a challenge to myself to live into my ideal of Christian unity by worshiping alongside others I do not typically worship with. I have challenged myself to visit several churches in the community over the next couple of months. I have a few key congregations in mind for my little visits, some mainline, some non-denominational, some white, some black (I don't know of any truly multi-cultural churches in this county or that would be at the top of my list).
For most of the congregations I plan to visit I know someone who worships there regularly and I plan to ask them to help introduce me to folks, to play host if you will. But this time was different. I did not do any prep work ahead of time. I told no one I was coming. In fact, I had not decided where I would worship this morning until last night.
Today is Palm Sunday - for people who place high value on liturgy as I do, it's a very important day to be among fellow followers of Christ. I know that Palm/Passion Sunday is a liturgical tradition that not every church celebrates, but I knew that at this point in my struggling faith I needed to find one that did. For me, that meant going close to the "tree trunk" (If you picture the various denominations as parts of a tree, the Catholic and Orthodox trees are the roots/trunk, then the various denominations that broke off from there are the large branches, then those branch out into smaller branches and so on). I plan to worship at a Roman Catholic church on Easter Sunday, so I decided to try an Episcopal church today.
I got there about 10 minutes before the service started. I was greeted and welcomed, but no one offered to help me find a bulletin or offered instruction on where I should go. The sanctuary was nearly empty except for a few of the congregations oldest members. All the others were gathering in the parish hall to prepare to process in with drums, a trumpet, and of course palm fronds waving in the air. I knew that's where they were and I easily could have gone to join them, but since no one specifically invited me to, I used that as an excuse and instead I stayed in the quietness of the sanctuary.
I took time to look at some of the stained glass and architecture. I looked at the organ as the women behind me pondered it's beauty (they found it very plain in both looks and tone). I watched the organist fidget as she awaited the rest of the congregation's triumphal entry. And I centered myself in prayer.
Finally the rest of the congregation processed in to a weak drum beat, with palm branches clasped in hands eager to find the correct seat, and a song barely on their lips. The worship service fell into place as soon as everyone was seated. The rhythm of the liturgy was of course a little different from what I am used to, but not so completely foreign that I felt out of place.
The recitation of scripture and even the singing of a psalm all seemed quite out of place, quite without spirit (honestly, the psalm for today would have fit the passionate emotion of spoken word much more appropriately than a delicate chant most likely written over a century ago). I wondered about the heart of the congregation... did it still beat? Or were these faithful ones going through the motions without realizing that their church had died long ago.
Then came the peace, and finally, I saw life!
The passing of the peace is a time honored liturgical tradition which, over the centuries, has also been cause of debate in many churches. For most, it is the arguments of practicality and time keeping that win out and many congregations have encouraged members to keep it short, have moved it to the end of the service, or have simply dropped this act completely. But this church still celebrated the peace. I exchanged a friendly "peace be with you" with more than a dozen strangers this morning, and I watched almost everyone leave their pew and walk far and wide to greet a friend, neighbor, or complete stranger like myself. It was a beautiful thing to observe (even if there was no actual reconciliation going on, it is difficult to talk about peace if you will not look a stranger in the eye and take their hand).
The liturgy continued with a homily inviting the congregation to actually partake in one of the many worship services occurring during Holy Week and finished with communion (which, again, I did not participate in - this was not because I did not feel welcome, but simply because I saw not gluten free elements being offered). The worship ended and everyone was dismissed.
And here's where it got interesting.
I had a decision to make. I had come to worship with no plan to interact with anyone, honestly I just wanted a place to connect with God at the start of this Holiest of times in the Christian calendar. I easily could have put on my coat and made it out the door in a flash before anyone had a chance to speak to me. But God and I had been talking throughout the whole service, and I knew it was time for me to offer hospitality.
You heard that right. Even though I was technically the guest in this congregation, I had a job to do - to share God's love and the joy of salvation through a very simple act.
I had pinned a palm rose on my shirt this morning (I could do a whole other post on the significance of palm crafts for our family, but not right now...). I also took the palm that was handed to me during the worship service and folded it into a rose during the homily (starting when the rector mentioned Good Friday and ending when she mentioned resurrection on Easter). Before we left the woman next to me commented on the beauty of it.
Another woman also commented on how lovely it was, so I offered to make one for her. I took her palm fronds and quickly crafted a rose for her. I did this while explaining to these women that it is a simple joy for me to make this craft, that I had taught myself by finding instructions on-line, and that no, it was no trouble, and I actually really enjoy being able to make these to share with people.
Soon some of the young girls gathered around and asked if I would please make a flower for them. I did, with great pleasure. I continued chatting with various women explaining that I lived nearby, that I am in fact clergy in the United Methodist church (as is my husband), but that I also enjoy worshiping with brothers and sisters in other congregations.
I'm not sure how long I stayed there in that little back pew. I do know that before I left I had made a handful of roses. One little girl had enough palms for me to make two - so I encouraged her to share one with her mom, who was speechless for a moment before thanking me several times.
It was a brief encounter, but it brought so much joy to me. And, if their faces were any indication, it also brought great joy to each of the women who received a rose from me today.
When I went to church this morning, I did not know what to expect. I knew God had put it on my heart to be in that building, with those people, on this day. I may not know everything that happened as a result of my brief encounters today, but I do not need to know. God had something in mind for all of us. I am just so thankful that I faced my fears and took the time to listen.
God of suffering and death, thank you for being with each of us as we struggle through so many difficult things in this life. But most of all, thank you for being the God of resurrection. Thank you for the reminder that even when everything goes dark and we feel abandoned, that you will make all things new.
This was the first in what I plan to be several visits to area churches. I decided a while ago that if I am going to truly be in ministry with my community then I need to be out in the community more. This includes challenges to be in public more on week days, but it also includes a challenge to myself to live into my ideal of Christian unity by worshiping alongside others I do not typically worship with. I have challenged myself to visit several churches in the community over the next couple of months. I have a few key congregations in mind for my little visits, some mainline, some non-denominational, some white, some black (I don't know of any truly multi-cultural churches in this county or that would be at the top of my list).
For most of the congregations I plan to visit I know someone who worships there regularly and I plan to ask them to help introduce me to folks, to play host if you will. But this time was different. I did not do any prep work ahead of time. I told no one I was coming. In fact, I had not decided where I would worship this morning until last night.
Today is Palm Sunday - for people who place high value on liturgy as I do, it's a very important day to be among fellow followers of Christ. I know that Palm/Passion Sunday is a liturgical tradition that not every church celebrates, but I knew that at this point in my struggling faith I needed to find one that did. For me, that meant going close to the "tree trunk" (If you picture the various denominations as parts of a tree, the Catholic and Orthodox trees are the roots/trunk, then the various denominations that broke off from there are the large branches, then those branch out into smaller branches and so on). I plan to worship at a Roman Catholic church on Easter Sunday, so I decided to try an Episcopal church today.
I got there about 10 minutes before the service started. I was greeted and welcomed, but no one offered to help me find a bulletin or offered instruction on where I should go. The sanctuary was nearly empty except for a few of the congregations oldest members. All the others were gathering in the parish hall to prepare to process in with drums, a trumpet, and of course palm fronds waving in the air. I knew that's where they were and I easily could have gone to join them, but since no one specifically invited me to, I used that as an excuse and instead I stayed in the quietness of the sanctuary.
I took time to look at some of the stained glass and architecture. I looked at the organ as the women behind me pondered it's beauty (they found it very plain in both looks and tone). I watched the organist fidget as she awaited the rest of the congregation's triumphal entry. And I centered myself in prayer.
Finally the rest of the congregation processed in to a weak drum beat, with palm branches clasped in hands eager to find the correct seat, and a song barely on their lips. The worship service fell into place as soon as everyone was seated. The rhythm of the liturgy was of course a little different from what I am used to, but not so completely foreign that I felt out of place.
The recitation of scripture and even the singing of a psalm all seemed quite out of place, quite without spirit (honestly, the psalm for today would have fit the passionate emotion of spoken word much more appropriately than a delicate chant most likely written over a century ago). I wondered about the heart of the congregation... did it still beat? Or were these faithful ones going through the motions without realizing that their church had died long ago.
Then came the peace, and finally, I saw life!
The passing of the peace is a time honored liturgical tradition which, over the centuries, has also been cause of debate in many churches. For most, it is the arguments of practicality and time keeping that win out and many congregations have encouraged members to keep it short, have moved it to the end of the service, or have simply dropped this act completely. But this church still celebrated the peace. I exchanged a friendly "peace be with you" with more than a dozen strangers this morning, and I watched almost everyone leave their pew and walk far and wide to greet a friend, neighbor, or complete stranger like myself. It was a beautiful thing to observe (even if there was no actual reconciliation going on, it is difficult to talk about peace if you will not look a stranger in the eye and take their hand).
The liturgy continued with a homily inviting the congregation to actually partake in one of the many worship services occurring during Holy Week and finished with communion (which, again, I did not participate in - this was not because I did not feel welcome, but simply because I saw not gluten free elements being offered). The worship ended and everyone was dismissed.
And here's where it got interesting.
I had a decision to make. I had come to worship with no plan to interact with anyone, honestly I just wanted a place to connect with God at the start of this Holiest of times in the Christian calendar. I easily could have put on my coat and made it out the door in a flash before anyone had a chance to speak to me. But God and I had been talking throughout the whole service, and I knew it was time for me to offer hospitality.
You heard that right. Even though I was technically the guest in this congregation, I had a job to do - to share God's love and the joy of salvation through a very simple act.
I had pinned a palm rose on my shirt this morning (I could do a whole other post on the significance of palm crafts for our family, but not right now...). I also took the palm that was handed to me during the worship service and folded it into a rose during the homily (starting when the rector mentioned Good Friday and ending when she mentioned resurrection on Easter). Before we left the woman next to me commented on the beauty of it.
So I offered it to her.
Another woman also commented on how lovely it was, so I offered to make one for her. I took her palm fronds and quickly crafted a rose for her. I did this while explaining to these women that it is a simple joy for me to make this craft, that I had taught myself by finding instructions on-line, and that no, it was no trouble, and I actually really enjoy being able to make these to share with people.
Soon some of the young girls gathered around and asked if I would please make a flower for them. I did, with great pleasure. I continued chatting with various women explaining that I lived nearby, that I am in fact clergy in the United Methodist church (as is my husband), but that I also enjoy worshiping with brothers and sisters in other congregations.
I'm not sure how long I stayed there in that little back pew. I do know that before I left I had made a handful of roses. One little girl had enough palms for me to make two - so I encouraged her to share one with her mom, who was speechless for a moment before thanking me several times.
It was a brief encounter, but it brought so much joy to me. And, if their faces were any indication, it also brought great joy to each of the women who received a rose from me today.
When I went to church this morning, I did not know what to expect. I knew God had put it on my heart to be in that building, with those people, on this day. I may not know everything that happened as a result of my brief encounters today, but I do not need to know. God had something in mind for all of us. I am just so thankful that I faced my fears and took the time to listen.
God of suffering and death, thank you for being with each of us as we struggle through so many difficult things in this life. But most of all, thank you for being the God of resurrection. Thank you for the reminder that even when everything goes dark and we feel abandoned, that you will make all things new.
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