My Visit on Sunday, October 7

Today's visit resulted from the request of a friend. A musician friend of mine was playing in a hired orchestra during worship today at Fine Arts Episcopal Church. Of course that isn't their name, but they do have a commitment to the "finer" things (I mean -- they hired an entire orchestra for not just one Sunday, but the whole month!). Regardless, I enjoyed the chance to take-in a little Christ and culture. (H. Richard Niebuhr would be proud!)

The stained glass windows in this church are dense and lasting. Functioning like the regal Byzantine icons of Constantinople, the four colorful panels burrow their straightforward images deep into my mind so that I can still call them to my consciousness even hours later. An accepting Christ, bidding followers to eat. A despondent Christ, carrying a cross. Christ resigned, praying in the garden. And Christ jubilant, ascending.

The real is treat is turning around the see the full spectrum of color in the rear window above the balcony. There stands the mysterious author of the bible's final and most vivid book. I can't begin to describe it. But rest assured, the window is as detailed and rich and complex as the subject himself. I think he would be proud. My only regret is that all the pews face front, so you don't see this window until you walk out.

The people were friendly, though far from outgoing. I get the feeling that a consistent visitor could stay anonymous here for months, which may be the approach they aim for. There's no pushiness (come on, they're Episcopalians!) and that's a good thing.

I took delight in watching the deacon prepare the bread and cup for the Eucharist. We were all singing our hymn while he uncovered the tableware and laid out the elements with the precision of a blackjack dealer.

I was grateful to be with them and to overhear the beautiful music they employ to announce their praise to God.

And if I do go back, I'm going to take my own lawn chair and placing right in the aisle facing the rear of the sanctuary . . .