Today at church, it was just… cool. I can’t really describe it, except to say we were in the groove, dialed in, in the zone.
Remember, I’ve been away for a week. 2 weeks ago, we had the first instance of “10am music practice” led by our choirmistress/organist. I like Mary very much, but She Must Be Obeyed in some things. So I was a little dismayed when 2 weeks ago, the music practice portion of the service went on and on and on – it was more than a little distracting. I could tell we had “lost” the congregation early on, and was concerned that people wouldn’t get “into” the service after all the musical fossicking about.
Apparently, last week (when I wasn’t there) things got a little out of hand – Mary’s enthusiasms for the music can get away from here, something that was already happening the first week. In the current e-mailed bulletin, which is also up on the new church blog, there was this item:
On many of our summer Sundays, we will be practicing music before the liturgy. Think of this as spiritual formation to assist us in participating fully in our worship.In order for this to work well, here is what the leaders of worship promise you:
- At exactly 10 a.m., we will begin music practice, and it will last no more than five minutes.
- No later than 10:15, Mary will begin a short prelude. This is intended to help us center ourselves and prepare for worship.
- The prelude will be followed directly by the opening hymn.
And here is what we ask from you:
- Please try to be here and ready to go at 10.
- Out of consideration for parishioners who use the prelude and time before the liturgy to center themselves and prepare for worship, please hold conversations in the gathering space, not the worship space.
And this morning, it went smooth as silk – Steve, our vicar, was timekeeper but I was also backup. We practiced singing “Now (music will play if you click)” with the congregation; instead of the choir getting to sing it as the post-Eucharist anthem, they joined with us. We sang it responsively; it worked out just fine.
Everything went, as I said, smoothly. In spite of the power outage that happened right in the middle of Paul’s sermon!
As it happened, Paul was preaching on the story of Elijah’s forty days of fasting, and how the Lord passed by with a great wind, earthquakes, and fire, followed by a sound of silence. Paul was elaborating on how modern life is filled with noisy sound all the time, where we never take time to listen to interior silence.
At that moment, the fans and lights cut out, and for a few seconds, we had actual silence… but Paul, after a short pause, went on in a stronger voice, and for the rest of the service we went on “old skool” with no electric power. A couple of people got up quietly to check on the breaker box, but it appeared to be a real power cut and not just a blown breaker. Meanwhile, we had 2 gallon buckets of ice cream in the freezer for a little impromptu ice cream social afterwards – they gave out coupons at a recent local parade, tucked into little mini-Frisbees. Steve during the announcements wondered if we should get the ice cream out at that time so that it would be softer – a loud chorus of good-humored (heh) “Nooooooo” rang out. We went on with the service, and Mary played piano instead of organ. There was no coffee, but we had plenty of ice cream, which was quite soft and scoopable after the service.
One other really cool thing that happened: I noticed Mary Anne talking to a diminutive little lady just before the service, and she beckoned me over. “This lady speaks no English,” she said. “Hello…” I offered tentatively. A stream of greetings in Spanish came forth, and I had it sorted out fairly quickly. My Spanish is rusty, but serviceable enough for what I was able to say after half a second to change mental gears.
“Welcome! My name is Virginia. What is your name, please? Where are you from?”
Her name was Mariana, she was happy to have found us, and she was traveling, a “turista.” From Ecuador.
I introduced Mary Anne, who shared her name, made sure she knew this was an Anglican, Episcopal church, and she said in Spanish, “yes, yes, I was looking for a church like this.” Then I managed to express regret for not having prayer books in Spanish, but I pointed to the bit of stained glass someone had made years before that’s above the entrance to the sanctuary and translated it – “Una casa de oraciones para todo el mundo.” Well, close enough. She got it and repeated another word – which I think might have been the correct one, “rezos.” We got on like a house afire. I invited her to seat herself in the sanctuary – thank God for my junior high Spanish teacher, who drilled us on reflexive verbs like “sentar,” and then it was time to practice the music. I walked back over to Mariana and added “we’re practicing the music now, and then we begin.” So very helpful, that junior-high level Spanish!
She looked a bit lost during the service – readings, sermon, announcements were all probably a confusing jumble for her, but the part she understood came soon enough. Vernon, who’s on immunosuppresants, was invited forward first and then we in the choir lined up as we normally do, so that we can get back and ready to sing whatever anthem we have planned. I turned and beckoned to Mariana to come with me, so she could at least understand this one part.
Steve bent down and handed her a piece of the wheat bread someone baked at home, and spoke the words slowly in English, as if to a child. “The… Body… of… Christ,” he said.  “El Cuerpo de Cristo,” I muttered, not remembering in time to add “el pan del Cielo,” but pointing her to the chalice filled with “vino,” instead of toward the one filled with “jugo;” we always have a stoneware cup with juice because of the big emphasis on recovery from addictions at St Nicholas, and the many people that come to us via one of the AA groups we host during the week.
Mariana seemed rapt, transported. We moved over to stand in front of Paul, who was chalicer for the goblet of white wine they had today. Paul spoke the words, and I muttered “el Sangre de Cristo, la Taza de salvacion.” “Gracias…” murmured Paul to me. “De nada,” I chuckled after I took the wine.
Afterwards, we chatted and hugged. “Soy muy contento,” she said. She was contented, satisfied, happy. There was no coffee, and I referred somehow to the power being out. But no fear, I knew the word for ice cream, so all was well. We chatted, and she mentioned that someone was going to pick her up at 1130, but she was going to walk back to where she was staying. It’s not far, she was saying, and then went on to say how she had been driving around with someone – a son or husband – and when they went past St Nicholas, she used the word “discovered” to finding it. So she came to us this week, but I’m not sure if she’ll be there next week. She took off, and quite a bit later, her son came by looking for her – he seemed really nice, too. “Mariana? Esta caminando…” and he smiled and went off in that direction. She had seemed to know her way and was clear on wanting to walk home, so I hope that she made it back in good time.
We sang 2 hymns out of the 1982 Hymnal – the rest of the service was all taken from “Gather,” including one that has a line that sounds exactly like part of the Brady Bunch theme. Yeah. And then there’s another part that’s in the service music in Gather that sounds like the “S.W.A.T.” theme – another golden oldie. Anyway, we sang an old chestnut in harmony – can’t remember what, now. But it sounded really, really good, and we had a wonderful tight blend. We could do no wrong in that hymn, so it was wonderful to lean back and let it pour out, moderating and modulating effortlessly with everyone around me and with Mary’s piano accompaniment. By telepathic agreement, she let us know she was going to add a little improvised “solo,” and we listened as she played a nice little melodic meditation, and then again by that unspoken communication you get between choir and director, we knew when to come in again with a big, swelling finish. We didn’t really rehearse it earlier, just banged through the first verse and decided it was fine “as is.”
It was a good day. In spite of the power being out, it was just…. cooooooool.
