Today, for the first time in many years, I decided to go to church. The urge came from a stronger desire I've had recently to find a way to get back to singing regularly. Years ago, as a teenager, I'd had an amazing year singing in this church's choir. Singing is just about the only thing that I ever fully engaged in while in church. For someone who went to church regularly as a child, my knowledge of the Bible is abysmal. It's as though my brain just never found it necessary to retain that information.
As a child, I enjoyed church quite a bit; not necessarily the message (which clearly went in one ear and out the other) but the performance of it all. I liked that standing, the kneeling, the singing. I remember liking the bit where everyone confessed their sins against God, in a monotone unison voice. I found it powerful and exciting. Here were a bunch of people saying that they had messed up and asking to be forgiven. How neat was that!
When I walked into the cathedral, I immediately spotted a few familiar faces (ghosts from my past), and instinctively tried to avoid all eye contact. Thankfully, no one seemed to have any idea who I was. It became clear very quickly that my experience this time around would be quite different from the fond memories I cherished. The choir, whom I had been hoping to hear was not back yet from summer break...I decided to stay nonetheless. I found a seat in a pew towards the back, sensing perhaps that I might need an early escape.
Here I was, in the middle of wooden pews, all lined-up, like a classroom, filled with well-dressed people ready to hear the "word of the Lord". As soon as the service began, I realized that something was off. Yes, I knew all the words to everything the congregation was asked to say, but I didn't really want to say them. So I picked and chose. The collective prayers, which had struck me as a child as being so powerful and moving, suddenly stuck me as dull and depressing, even a little frightening. No emotion, no variation. All of these individual voices blending into a single monotonous and terribly sad one.
Matters were made worst by the priest's sermon, which was a good blend of making the congregation feel special and then sending out the message that the Anglican church really needs to start being more active and making sure people stopped leaving the church. He mentioned that the past 50 years had been spent figuring out who could be part of this community, and stated that now the concern was: what do we do now. It sounded as though being Anglican was like being part of an exclusive club, with rights and privileges. Not everyone is allowed in, but if you are...well, luck you! Now, go on and spread the word of the Lord.
I sang my heart out, and that felt good. I didn't go up for communion. I didn't stick around for coffee hour. It took a lot to actually sit through the whole hour and fifteen minutes. I wasn't moved once, I didn't feel connected. I didn't even feel like praying.
My parents go to a beautiful church which is the exact opposite of this one. In their church, the chairs are set up in a circle. If you decide to attend regularly, you get assigned to a "tribe". In their church, the choir isn't as "professional", they don't wear robes, but when they sing, you can tell that they really are singing with their hearts. Everytime I go there, I am moved. Not because the "word of the Lord" is so powerful, but because you can feel a real sense of community, a real connection, and a real desire to be spiritual. The old gothic imposing columns don't exist here, they have been replaced with beautiful wood and lots of light.
My desire to sing is strong, and perhaps I will find a way to appreciate that Sunday morning hour if I do end up joining the choir...but right now, I'm thinking I might need to find someplace else to try to go find some sort of spiritual connection. A place that is warm, authentic, different. Perhaps a place that celebrates stepping out of the rigidity of these wooden pews, stepping out of the pearls, stepping out of such a tightly structure production, and leaves a little bit more room for improvisation.
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