Which Church Should I Attend: ruminations of a recently retired priest
Last week I wondered, “Why should I attend Church?” Today my ruminations continue as I consider, “Which church should I attend?”
The irony of leaving a Sunday worship service and immediately turning toward the “Batteries Plus Bulbs” store is not lost on me, particularly in light of the Hebrew Testament and Gospel texts declaring, “ The people who sat in darkness have seen a great light, for those who sat in the region and the shadow of death new light has dawned.” (See Scripture below) No doubt that is why my Honda passed by “Batteries Plus Bulbs” and headed to “the other” Episcopal Church in Santa Fe. Until that moment it never occurred to me to attend one worship service immediately following the other, nor did I imagine the back to back sacred events would be facing in opposite directions.
Two Episcopal Churches living back to back. One orderly and stable as stone, tirelessly contesting with the sin of the world. The other like a cloud garlanded sky, boldly confessing light aligned with the company of heaven.
Which Church Should I Attend?
Beginning at the beginning, it is 8:30 am on a snowy Sunday morning. Santa Fe ski mountain will be crowded because it is Martin Luther King, Jr.’s celebratory weekend. But I am dressed for church. For the first time in decades I leave my collar and priestly role in the closet on a Sunday morning, the first time returning to the Episcopal Church where I was confirmed.
The sculpted stone walls of the Gothic style Episcopal Church built in 1883 epitomize the rocklike doctrine and discipline of her distinguished religious history much as the incense saturated pews exude the aire of church militant. Beneath the banner of the sacrificial lamb of Christ, in a perfectly choreographed march against sin, the people admit their “manifold sins and wickedness, (justifiably) provoking God’s wrath and indignation against (them),” engage in spiritual warfare and pray that they will gain admission to a “happily ever after life.” Like the corp of the classical American Ballet Theatre, every song, step and genuflection of the liturgical party is in sync with the stalwart words appointed for the day.
Faithful to the theme of Jesus as “lamb of God” whose sacrifice is required to mitigate the effects of the people’s exceeding sinfulness, the preacher iterates the words of The Baptismal Covenant and Catechism. “Do you renounce Satan and all the spiritual forces of wickedness that rebel against God? Do you renounce the evil powers of this world…. ? do you renounce all sinful desires…?” Remember, you are “made in the image of God,” which means you are “free to make choices” but from the beginning you have “misused your freedom and made wrong choices.” Three times the preacher rehearses John the Baptist’s words, “Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.” (John 1.29) Every element of this exquisitely crafted liturgy points to the Agnus Dei, the sacrifice of Jesus required to redeem sinful humanity.
And, just in case the words of the songs, prayers and preaching miss the mark, the full color image of a red robed warrior piercing an innocent lamb in the midst of bewildered peasants that presides on the cover of the Second Sunday After the Epiphany church service bulletin portrays it all. We are meant to join the earthly war against sin so to gain entrance to God’s kingdom when we die. With the heft of that message set on my soul I slipped out of the side door and thought, “I am going to the “Battery Plus Bulbs”Store.”
Which brings me to the second beginning. It is 10:30 am the same Sunday morning. Rain is now mixed with snow as I cross the parking lot of the “other” Episcopal Church in Santa Fe, the one that represents itself in two languages claiming to “Celebrate God’s Love For All, Celebre el Amor de Dios por Todos.” The eight sided design of the less than five year old sanctuary is more reminiscent of a Navaho hogan than the classic style of traditional Episcopal Church buildings. A geodesic ceiling envelops a light infused space at the center of which is an altar surrounded by boat shaped altar rails. From where I sit it seems the altar is accessible to everyone in the congregation.
Shortly past the designated time the entrance rite begins. Following a cross carried a bit askew, the mismatched liturgical party circumnavigates the congregation singing, “Christ is the world’s true light.” The liturgy proceeds with words, prayers and songs tuned to the wondrous love of God and an invitation to follow the way of Jesus. Every element of the slightly disordered liturgy points to the church triumphant, rejoicing in the glory of God in the midst of the messiness of life among the people on earth.
Faithful to the second collect (prayer) affirming The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. as a prophet illumined by the Gospel and Sacraments to carry the Light of Christ into the world, the preacher tells a story of a suicidal woman’s three encounters with ordinary prophets (a pharmacist, friend and someone else). Altogether their insight, compassion and truth speaking penetrate the depressed woman’s darkness, pierce the shadow of death and spark new light for her. The preacher’s message that not all prophets are extraordinary as MLK puts the onus on everyone present to take responsibility to carry the Light of Christ into the pain of the world. Pausing for emphasis the preacher concludes with the charge, “Ask yourselves, “How will I be a light among all people?”
During the distribution of Holy Communion I could not help but wonder if the rectangular altar enclosed by boat-shaped altar rails was the reason for the catawampus liturgical dance. But my judgmental eyes were quickly averted by an unusual piece of religious art. A cut glass mosaic inhabits an entire wall of the octagonal building. Its depiction of creation and the interconnectedness of all that is sparks light throughout the worship space. Humm. Christ’s true light is crafted into this place.
With eyes turned toward an unseen horizon, the second service bulletin cover image of Martin Luther King, Jr. invites us to look for Jesus’ good news that God’s “kingdom has come near.” Like MLK we are meant to carry the light of Christ into the world because even our small light might penetrate the darkness and save a life. And with that hope filled message I quietly slip out of church, proceed to the “Battery Plus Bulbs” store where I look straight into the eyes of the seemingly disgruntled clerk and say, “Hello young man. I hope you are having a blessed day.” Clearly surprised by my overture, he raises his time worn shoulders, shakes his unkempt head and almost smiles, “And what may I do for you young lady?”
Which church should I attend?
Two Episcopal Churches living back to back. One orderly and stable as stone, tirelessly contesting with the sin of the world. The other like a cloud garlanded sky, boldly confessing light aligned with the company of heaven.
I think I must attend to the beauty born of both because I am constantly tempted by “the sin of the world” to turn away from God with whom I boldy claim to be a cloudlike carrier of light into the messiness of life.
Matthew 4:12–23 When Jesus heard that John had been arrested, he withdrew to Galilee. He left Nazareth and made his home in Capernaum by the sea, in the territory of Zebulun and Naphtali, so that what had been spoken through the prophet Isaiah might be fulfilled:
“Land of Zebulun, land of Naphtali, on the road by the sea, across the Jordan, Galilee of the Gentiles — the people who sat in darkness have seen a great light, and for those who sat in the region and shadow of death light has dawned.”
From that time Jesus began to proclaim, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.”
As he walked by the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon, who is called Peter, and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea — for they were fishermen. And he said to them, “Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.” Immediately they left their nets and followed him. As he went from there, he saw two other brothers, James son of Zebedee and his brother John, in the boat with their father Zebedee, mending their nets, and he called them. Immediately they left the boat and their father, and followed him.
Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness among the people.
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