We were in North Myrtle Beach this past weekend and picked a church at random for Easter service. We needed to leave after lunch, so a 9:30 service made the most sense. Of course, the church my in-laws had chosen held a contemporary service at that time, but I really didn't think much of it. Well, as my father-in-law noted, "The only thing Presbyterian about that was the final blessing."
I'm not trying to be critical of people who attend contemporary services. The worshippers at this service were obviously very moved and energized by the Christian pop music and PowerPoint presentation. I'm sure I would have gotten a bit more out of it if I had at least been familiar with the music. But I was out of my comfort zone, which only serves to make me feel awkward, not inspired. I'm just not used to watching a performance at church. I felt like it was a concert by the main singer, who was excellent and obviously full of Spirit, but I got distracted watching her rather than thinking about God.
And what can I say, I missed my favorite "Jesus Christ is Risen Today". One of the most awe-inspiring moments of my life was Easter 2000, when my high school best friend and I emerged from Via della Conciliazione onto a packed St. Peter's Square just as an English choir filled the air with that hymn.
But this contemporary service got me thinking about the kind of Christian I am. While I could never be comfortable waving my hands in the air and inserting "Thank you, Father God" at every breath, I do somewhat envy these people. I have seldom, if ever, been ecstatic like that. I'm actually probably a pretty lousy "worshipper." I don't think that's how I approach church. When I go to a service, I am searching for insight and comfort, ideally an overflowing sense of peace. I am contemplative, not energetic. I'm looking for inspiration, but inspiration to apply to life, not just for it's own sake. I want to be challenged mentally and emotionally by a sermon, but I guess the kind that reach me don't lend themselves to shouts of "Amen!" I don't really think in terms of praise but of a feeling of oneness with God. Maybe I'm not looking at worship the right way, but I do know I've felt a few moments of truly holy peace.
There's a small, ancient church in the Roman neighborhood of Trastevere, Santa Maria in Trastevere, one of the few vestiges of medieval Rome that wasn't sugar-coated in baroque by a pope. The interior was far quieter than most other Roman church, and the altar was backdropped by a gorgeous 12th century mosaic. I sat toward the back of the sanctuary to take it all in, and the clouds outside parted to let light shine through a window and bathe me in pure gold.
At my wedding, when the priest wrapped his stole around Brad's and my hands and pronounced us husband and wife, a wave of absolute calm and contentment washed over me from the top of my head to my feet. I knew we were blessed.
I may not experience ecstasy, but I'm as solid as I can be in my faith thanks to these moments and a few others. Simple joy and peace may not be all that God encompasses, but they're enough for me.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Welcome to my odditorium, a collection of curiosities made up of snippets about my life and occasional machinations on deeper subjects.
8 comments:
Amen.
"...I had been missing the peace only found in the pauses between prayers during mass." Like music, it's the pauses that make me appreciate the words and thoughts offered through religion.
Hope I'm appreciating the right thing. :-) (*stubs toe in the dark cave looking for the candle*)
Santa Maria in Trastevere is a wonderful church. It's one of the few I managed to drag my aunt and Amanda to while we were there. That mosaic is incredible.
Because my attitude toward worship is so fundamentally bound with music, I find that I'm able to engage in a lot of styles. As many tempos and dynamics as there are. I think I'm lucky in that.
I was distracted through the entire service because I kept noticing punctuation mistakes and bad line breaks on the PowerPoint slides.
I would much prefer hearing a service in all Latin to what we experienced there. Just the rhythms, intonations, and repetitions would be enough to calm my soul, even if I had no clue what was being said.
I wish I could find a service where everyone and everything was silent long enough so I could hear myself think -- and perhaps even hear and feel the one thing I'm there to discover.
Our mother is disappointed that those of her offspring who regularly attend church (including the pastor one) have chosen less hand-raising and a little more formality, though the pastor one does like the guitar now and then for his services (because he can play well). But I have come to understand that the different sorts of service -- whether formal, liturgical, hand-waving, foot-stomping -- have their own place and their own people... and a sung Eucharist at St. Paul's in London (even if YOU were distracted by running into people you met on the plane :) ) gave me more appreciation for the Lutheran tradition that I am currently living in. Here's for variety... AND THOSE OLD HYMNS. (We had "Lift High the Cross", which for some reason I can't explain brings tears to my eyes as the organ rises for the three chords between the verse and the chorus...)
Where once I wondered why we can't all have the same service/style, I now know why... and I'm glad.
Tears? Ah, just blame it on the pregnancy hormones! Of course, that doesn't explain why I cry at "Eagles Wings" or why my mom is a basket case after just the first bars of "Amazing Grace."
I had forgotten about that service at St. Paul's. I'm glad you got a lot out of it. I was more distracted by the strange B-movie science fiction outfits the priests were wearing -- and I grew up Episcopalian!
I couldn't agree more, and for Years Reading, I am neither Catholic, nor Italian, and can't speak a word of real Latin, but the Easter Service at San Lucenza in the Centro Storico of Genoa Italy was fantastic for everything that should be the church going experience.
I wish I could have been in the Piazza San Peter.
Lucky already said it, but, Amen.
On the rare occasion I make it to church here it's to the contemporary service at the local rich church. I don't go very often because, like you, I don't get much out of contemporary services.
My problems with them are numerous, but I recognize that a good many people do enjoy the contemporary style and am happy for them that they find God through Christ in that setting. I cannot, but thankfully no one has yet attempted to tell us how we must worship. I'm sure it's coming.
Post a Comment