It was a Ministry of Presence, but I wasn’t.
Pope Francis I had proclaimed 2016 the Year of Mercy in the Catholic Church, and our church in Seattle (St. James Cathedral) responded by setting up a daily Welcome Table to greet those who might come through our doors. This was considered a Ministry of Presence, a way to embrace our neighbors and visitors, and I had volunteered once a month for a four-hour shift.
But 30 minutes into my first Welcome, I was feeling unwelcoming. Bored, to be exact. People weren’t coming by my table, it was too too quiet--I just wasn’t being entertained. Three and a half more hours of this? And as often happens when I’m uncomfortable in church, I started shoulding on myself, starting with the requisite “Should I be praying?” Or in this instance “Should I be leaving?”
But then I began to look up. I noticed light nudging its way through the stained glass windows. A slight wind motioned the murals. Candle flames bounced and bobbed. And even what wasn’t moving was moving: statues and shrines with winsome expressions and peaceful demeanors. I became intrigued with tabernacles and altarpieces, organs and pipes, and, of course The Chairs (Presider’s Chair, Seat of the Archbishop--St. James Cathedral is Chair Heaven).
Soon my other senses were engaged. The sweet spiritual smell of incense wafted alongside the altar flower fragrances. I listened to the wind on the windows, the opening of doors, the lowering of kneelers; even the intermittent silences seem to speak with subtle cadences. And all in all I was.......touched.
And surprised. Once my God Goggles were on, I saw the place as it really was, teeming with activity and spirituality. Not to mention people. All sorts of people. Out of town visitors and in town re-visitors. Dressed up and dressed down--people from work and people from off the street. Elders moving slowly--kids too fast. Bowing, standing, kneeling. pointing. Smiling, frowning and expressionless. Woman kneeling at the base of the cross, touching the feet of Christ. Men doing the same.
Why are they here? Worship. Looking at the architecture. Getting out of the elements. Needing to cry and confess. Seeking something. People wanting to feel community while being alone. Maybe God will be home today, and they don’t want to miss out.
They are coming to church. And what is a church? More than a building of course, but at least that. Over the centuries many have decryed the amounts invested in church buildings, thinking the money was better spent doled to the congregants. But it was rarely the congregants complaining; they knew through experience their church was a dynamic, enervating place and
by investing in a church, they were investing in themselves.
As I was by coming to the Cathedral for my once a month shift. Yes I stayed that day and have continued, sometimes bored but often enthralled by all that’s going on. My God Goggles have stayed on, as has my belief that although God is indeed everywhere, He is somehow especially here.
Pope Francis I had proclaimed 2016 the Year of Mercy in the Catholic Church, and our church in Seattle (St. James Cathedral) responded by setting up a daily Welcome Table to greet those who might come through our doors. This was considered a Ministry of Presence, a way to embrace our neighbors and visitors, and I had volunteered once a month for a four-hour shift.
But 30 minutes into my first Welcome, I was feeling unwelcoming. Bored, to be exact. People weren’t coming by my table, it was too too quiet--I just wasn’t being entertained. Three and a half more hours of this? And as often happens when I’m uncomfortable in church, I started shoulding on myself, starting with the requisite “Should I be praying?” Or in this instance “Should I be leaving?”
But then I began to look up. I noticed light nudging its way through the stained glass windows. A slight wind motioned the murals. Candle flames bounced and bobbed. And even what wasn’t moving was moving: statues and shrines with winsome expressions and peaceful demeanors. I became intrigued with tabernacles and altarpieces, organs and pipes, and, of course The Chairs (Presider’s Chair, Seat of the Archbishop--St. James Cathedral is Chair Heaven).
Soon my other senses were engaged. The sweet spiritual smell of incense wafted alongside the altar flower fragrances. I listened to the wind on the windows, the opening of doors, the lowering of kneelers; even the intermittent silences seem to speak with subtle cadences. And all in all I was.......touched.
And surprised. Once my God Goggles were on, I saw the place as it really was, teeming with activity and spirituality. Not to mention people. All sorts of people. Out of town visitors and in town re-visitors. Dressed up and dressed down--people from work and people from off the street. Elders moving slowly--kids too fast. Bowing, standing, kneeling. pointing. Smiling, frowning and expressionless. Woman kneeling at the base of the cross, touching the feet of Christ. Men doing the same.
Why are they here? Worship. Looking at the architecture. Getting out of the elements. Needing to cry and confess. Seeking something. People wanting to feel community while being alone. Maybe God will be home today, and they don’t want to miss out.
They are coming to church. And what is a church? More than a building of course, but at least that. Over the centuries many have decryed the amounts invested in church buildings, thinking the money was better spent doled to the congregants. But it was rarely the congregants complaining; they knew through experience their church was a dynamic, enervating place and
by investing in a church, they were investing in themselves.
As I was by coming to the Cathedral for my once a month shift. Yes I stayed that day and have continued, sometimes bored but often enthralled by all that’s going on. My God Goggles have stayed on, as has my belief that although God is indeed everywhere, He is somehow especially here.
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