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21 november 2000

some people earned their spot in line

I go to a big church, probably the biggest Episcopalian congregation in Winston-Salem. I haven’t been a real regular churchgoer over the past couple of years, mostly due to travel, work commitments, and just plain lack of motivation. But now that I’m back home, it makes my week feel kind of funny if I don’t go. In my case, I was raised in a churchgoing family, and baptized Catholic. Nowadays, I tell people that I am a recovering Catholic, and enjoy the Episcopal or Anglican services. Catholic Light, if you will. All of the karma with less of the dogma. This is a church I can handle!

Okay, so I’m outside the door after service, watching the priests greet everyone after the service. There are usually three to five of them out there, and most everyone lines up for a handshake. Sort of a last-bid blessing to get your week started off right.

The elderly ladies take full advantage of this opportunity.

Sunday's sermon was, in a nutshell, foreboding. A good little kick in the pants, if you will, as we enter this festive holiday season. After all, Father John doesn't want us getting all uppity and forgetting to be thankful and giving and stuff. The theme was that God is working with a purpose. Basically, if you're in the way when he decides to do some holy housekeeping, you'd better either be good or seek shelter.

Now I understand why churches don't have a comment box at the vestry. The little old ladies are walking, talking suggestion boxes. They are your ecumenical quality control agents. Take your complaints to them.

So the ladies are lined up, waiting to give their feedback. I witness several handshake/arm squeeze combinations of approval. "Perfect sermon for such a dreary day, Father!" Is this entirely complimentary? Hm. For the most part, they are most enthusiastic about today's message, and the general consensus is, "we needed that. Thanks!"

And then there was the little bitty lady who didn't like it quite as much.

"Father," she says, "that was a pretty depressing sermon! Where did you come up with that? It's already snowing outside; we wanted to hear something happier today." The priest gently reminded her that this was a timely sermon, and that he knew today's Bible lessons and sermon were "tough words". She kind of looked at him for a minute, slapped him on the arm, and said, "well it was good, then! Just think of something happier for next week. Bye!"

Ah, diplomacy. SoI'm still out there, still thoroughly enjoying this commentary parade, when one woman comes up to me in the snow and asks me to put her coat hood over her head. Why, sure! Her husband, of course, has gone to get the car. He pulls up and she scoots over to the car, with nary a snowflake hitting her head.

Church is real important to these ladies. Of course, this makes perfect sense. They've probably lived through a few things that truly required a prayer or two, stuff that only a God-sort of person could make sense of for them. World War II , the Great Depression, children, grandchildren, perished children, and work. The kind of work that people of my generation may never know, where you hit the ground running before sunset, and lay your head back down with the memory of the day burned into your hands. Church was the day of rest, a few moments to figure it all out, and a reminder as to why you did it all in the first place.

The priests, then, know they need to spend a few extra moments with these ladies. They're a good barometer of how the church is doing. And something tells me that when they're standing next to you, God probably isn't too far behind.