[Industrialblog,
May 10, 2004]
Visiting a Church
I was pleased to join some friends Sunday morning in a church of theirs. It was a Moravian Church, some place I'd never been before. I was interviewed at Moravian Academy, a high school in Nazareth, Pa., but I didn't get the job. So this was my second experience.
First up, the church building itself was just about as stripped-down Protestant as they come. The building walls were white, the floor was green, the pews were wood. There was some raised panel on the ends of the pews; raised panel being as Baroque as Moravians get, apparently.
The service seemed very much like the Methodism of my youth — songs, readings, some preaching. And I enjoyed it very much on its own terms. I'm very much of a fire-and-brimstone, sin-conscious type — the Church is under siege by the world, the devil and the flesh, and perhaps I needed to be reminded of a more positive, comforting side of God, and the powerful, stripped-down faith that many of those who built this country held. It was very welcoming, and people started with an enthusiatic greeting of all in the church. Another nice touch was the pastor's asking of the congregation for prayers. A young woman stood up and named someone who had died; the prayers were thus offered by the congregation for her, and for the few others who spoke up to ask for public prayers.
Overall, the church was estrogen heavy. Two pastors, both women. The choir had three rows, two rows of women, and three men in the back. The music was provided by women. Thus, looking to the front, you had all women on the left and center and right — except three men in the last row of the choir. The message spoken of by the pastors was almost exclusively the rhetoric of therapy and social justice. The message was about not fulfilling potential, or making mistakes. The Biblical passages were relentlessly upbeat: God the comforting, God the loving, God the creating. I noticed the passages always stopped right at the fire and brimstone. In the entire service, there was no mention of sin and death, unless you could a mention of "transgressions" in a hymn into a mention of sin; in that case, there was one. There was no confession, no absolution, no profession of faith, and no real talk about Jesus. Jesus was mentioned in hymns and in prayers, but otherwise the talk was of God.
All in all, I was delighted to be asked by friends. While it wouldn't be a weekly choice, it was helpful to me in a therapeutic way — particularly during the service the pastor made a prayer for single people. In my own church and on the right, it's all families, families, families ... and while I believe that families come first in our community without exception, it was nice to have someone acknowledge those of us who don't quite fit the norm. It was something Christ would've done.
First up, the church building itself was just about as stripped-down Protestant as they come. The building walls were white, the floor was green, the pews were wood. There was some raised panel on the ends of the pews; raised panel being as Baroque as Moravians get, apparently.
The service seemed very much like the Methodism of my youth — songs, readings, some preaching. And I enjoyed it very much on its own terms. I'm very much of a fire-and-brimstone, sin-conscious type — the Church is under siege by the world, the devil and the flesh, and perhaps I needed to be reminded of a more positive, comforting side of God, and the powerful, stripped-down faith that many of those who built this country held. It was very welcoming, and people started with an enthusiatic greeting of all in the church. Another nice touch was the pastor's asking of the congregation for prayers. A young woman stood up and named someone who had died; the prayers were thus offered by the congregation for her, and for the few others who spoke up to ask for public prayers.
Overall, the church was estrogen heavy. Two pastors, both women. The choir had three rows, two rows of women, and three men in the back. The music was provided by women. Thus, looking to the front, you had all women on the left and center and right — except three men in the last row of the choir. The message spoken of by the pastors was almost exclusively the rhetoric of therapy and social justice. The message was about not fulfilling potential, or making mistakes. The Biblical passages were relentlessly upbeat: God the comforting, God the loving, God the creating. I noticed the passages always stopped right at the fire and brimstone. In the entire service, there was no mention of sin and death, unless you could a mention of "transgressions" in a hymn into a mention of sin; in that case, there was one. There was no confession, no absolution, no profession of faith, and no real talk about Jesus. Jesus was mentioned in hymns and in prayers, but otherwise the talk was of God.
All in all, I was delighted to be asked by friends. While it wouldn't be a weekly choice, it was helpful to me in a therapeutic way — particularly during the service the pastor made a prayer for single people. In my own church and on the right, it's all families, families, families ... and while I believe that families come first in our community without exception, it was nice to have someone acknowledge those of us who don't quite fit the norm. It was something Christ would've done.