Feeling a need to get back to my roots, I attended a Presbyterian Church today. I attended Deep-in-the-Urban-Woods Presbyterian Church. And I'm grateful I did.
Actually a friend in Iowa (of all places) suggested I attend -- he's heard of the church and its good works and wanted me to check it out.
I say "going back to my roots" for two reasons. My denomination, the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), was founded by a couple of Presbyterians -- New Light, Anti-Berger, Seceder Presbyterians to be precise. (That was a few years before the Presbyterians largely merged, and how grateful we are to God for THAT merger -- can you imagine how big these church signs would have been?!)
But for a more personal reason, my maternal family roots go back to a Presbyterian Church in the Midwest. I don't think my mom's family was particularly active in the church, but I was curious to see what might have drawn them to the Presbies.
I attended the 9:45 "contemporary" service. Now I must say that I loathe the ubiquitous terms "contemporary" and "traditional" when it comes to using them as descriptors for worship. They seem to work in "churchy settings" as short-hand monikers, but they are hardly creative and they evoke no emotion (except when lobbed out of the foxholes of a congregation at war -- one where members see "contemporary" and "traditional" as battle lines to be defended).
Isn't all worship traditional? It is something that is rooted deep in history -- regardless of the songs that are sung and the scriptures that are read. And isn't all worship contemporary? It is happening today -- using words and symbols of this time and place to communicate theological concepts and invite people into a living relationship that happens now.
*Steps off soapbox*
OK, back to this beautiful experience I found this morning.
Music = exceptional. You may recall that I attend another large congregation a few weeks ago -- August 26, I think. And the music certainly matched the quality of that mega-, mega-church. My only wish was that the congregation had been singing. I think some of them were, maybe in the front -- but I sat about halfway back in the center and the folks near me remained quiet. There may have been some holy humming; but with a great band like that, these folks should feel free to sing their hearts out. I later found out that today's music was lead by a fairly new staff member, but I never would have known -- he was very talented and calm in front of the large crowd.
Equally calm (yet appropriately peppy for an upbeat hour of worship) was the Executive Pastor who opened the worship service. With a faint Kevin Spacey-resemblance, he welcomed us to the church and then did something I've never seen during church "announcement time" before. He introduced a special guest from the denomination, but instead of simply turning over the microphone to the guest speaker for (what is often) a boring 5-minute appeal, the Spacey-esque emcee stayed on stage and led a Larry King-style Q&A with the man. It was an engaging, creative, relevant way to let the guest say what he needed to say and still keep the congregation from zoning out. Why aren't more church announcements done like this!?
The sermon was what I expected it to be at this church: outstanding! I've known about the preacher's creativity and "relate-ability" (is that a word?!) for a while and was delighted to finally hear him. He was funny, real and self-effacing (particularly when his brain went blank and he admitted to needing his "cheat sheet" tucked safely inside the back cover of this bible).
Finally, a note about congregation's obvious commitment to community and global outreach. They had banners hanging on either side of the chancel with impressive statistics about the church's investments in both local and international social concerns. They take it seriously and it shows. In most church newsletters, there are lots of opportunities listed to volunteer at the church. In this church's newsletter, those church volunteer jobs are listed, but I noticed even more opportunities to volunteer in the community -- school tutoring, cooking meals, renovating homes, reading to kids. This is clearly a church that sees itself as existing not for itself. And that's a tough thing for many churches to remember.
9.23.2007
9.17.2007
My Visit on Sunday, September 16
My travels took me to the heart of the arts district for worship this morning. I confess that I chose the church because I really wanted to wander through the art museum after worship. At least I had my priorities in the right order!
I learned right away that you don't want to get to this church too early. I arrived about 20 minutes before the start of their 11:00 service. When I walked up to the main entrance, I saw a handful of people standing on the steps outside the front door. I overheard someone saying that the first service wasn't over yet and we shouldn't go in. I went in anyway.
They indeed were singing the final hymn, so I knew it wouldn't be long and I walked up to the balcony to take-in the architecture. It was beautiful. The walls were stone and plaster and ceiling was wood, with a curious antique finish. The chancel was wood carved and stained glass windows were detailed and colorful. My only disappointment was the "chief" of the stained glass windows.
There in the front of the sanctuary, high above all the chancel decoration was the rose window -- the focal point of the architecture. And it was a small stained glass portrait of that 20th-century image of Jesus kneeling on a rock and praying in the Garden of Gethsemane. You the one -- its overused and well beyond cliche in many American churches. I know its familiar and that is why people like it. But for the rose window, I wish this church would have been more creative and bold.
I took my seat and noticed the faces around me. A good intergenerational mix and I was pleased to see it. They care for people at all ages and stages and it shows. I smiled at the older faces I saw -- these weren't your typical Texas-church-blue-haireds. One woman had giant bright red rims on her glasses (did I say they were huge?!) Several of the older gents had long wavy silver hair and stylish sportcoats -- I pictured them driving away in their convertibles. This was an arts crowd. More Montrose, less West U.
Still, they were a friendly lot and I appreciated their spiritual company on a Sunday morning. And later, at the art museum, I appreciated the spiritual company of old friends like Alexander Calder, Henri Matisse and Joan Miro.
I learned right away that you don't want to get to this church too early. I arrived about 20 minutes before the start of their 11:00 service. When I walked up to the main entrance, I saw a handful of people standing on the steps outside the front door. I overheard someone saying that the first service wasn't over yet and we shouldn't go in. I went in anyway.
They indeed were singing the final hymn, so I knew it wouldn't be long and I walked up to the balcony to take-in the architecture. It was beautiful. The walls were stone and plaster and ceiling was wood, with a curious antique finish. The chancel was wood carved and stained glass windows were detailed and colorful. My only disappointment was the "chief" of the stained glass windows.
There in the front of the sanctuary, high above all the chancel decoration was the rose window -- the focal point of the architecture. And it was a small stained glass portrait of that 20th-century image of Jesus kneeling on a rock and praying in the Garden of Gethsemane. You the one -- its overused and well beyond cliche in many American churches. I know its familiar and that is why people like it. But for the rose window, I wish this church would have been more creative and bold.
I took my seat and noticed the faces around me. A good intergenerational mix and I was pleased to see it. They care for people at all ages and stages and it shows. I smiled at the older faces I saw -- these weren't your typical Texas-church-blue-haireds. One woman had giant bright red rims on her glasses (did I say they were huge?!) Several of the older gents had long wavy silver hair and stylish sportcoats -- I pictured them driving away in their convertibles. This was an arts crowd. More Montrose, less West U.
Still, they were a friendly lot and I appreciated their spiritual company on a Sunday morning. And later, at the art museum, I appreciated the spiritual company of old friends like Alexander Calder, Henri Matisse and Joan Miro.
My Visit on Sunday, September 9
I went to the early service at a moderately-sized county seat church today. I learned that the early at a moderated-sized county seat church is a small group of people. These are likely the golfers, the farmers and anyone else who believes in "getting church done early so I can do what I want to do for the rest of the day." Because of that, there weren't many who stayed long to chat over coffee once the final prayer was spoken, but they were a friendly group.
In the final moments of worship, the minister challenged us to "shake 12 hands before you leave today." I cold tell it was something he said every week. At first I thought, "Geez, 12?! That's a lot." But with everyone trying to do the same, it was actually kind of a nice thing. Because of that, I met several people -- not just the engraved-name-tag-wearing "official" greeters, but the regular mom and pops, too.
At one point in the service, they invited all the visitors to find the little visitor cards in the pockets on the back of the pew. Following instructions, I found one and it had the little sticker in the shape of a cross on it that I was supposed to wear. (Why do church's think visitors want to wear these things?!) The guy in front of me turned around and saw that I was looking at the card and he said, "Don't put the sticker on, it will leave a mark on your shirt for a long time." I appreciated his word of caution and I slid it back into the pew pocket relieved.
In the final moments of worship, the minister challenged us to "shake 12 hands before you leave today." I cold tell it was something he said every week. At first I thought, "Geez, 12?! That's a lot." But with everyone trying to do the same, it was actually kind of a nice thing. Because of that, I met several people -- not just the engraved-name-tag-wearing "official" greeters, but the regular mom and pops, too.
At one point in the service, they invited all the visitors to find the little visitor cards in the pockets on the back of the pew. Following instructions, I found one and it had the little sticker in the shape of a cross on it that I was supposed to wear. (Why do church's think visitors want to wear these things?!) The guy in front of me turned around and saw that I was looking at the card and he said, "Don't put the sticker on, it will leave a mark on your shirt for a long time." I appreciated his word of caution and I slid it back into the pew pocket relieved.
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