52 Churches

Some time ago, while walking through the Spokane International Airport, I noticed a billboard for the “World Famous Singing Nuns” from Spokane. I hardly knew we had any women religious in Spokane, let alone world famous singing women religious. Anyway, the World Famous Singing Nuns are from Mount St. Michael’s, a Traditionalist Catholic parish located high on a bluff on Spokane’s northern prairie that offers a Latin Mass (actually, only a Latin Mass).

The interesting thing about the mass this morning, is that the priest never spoke loudly enough to be heard from where we were sitting (about mid-chapel, on the left). The mass might have been in Latin, but it could have been in any other language, because the only points at which he spoke loudly enough or mic’d enough to be heard, he spoke in English (the announcements, the sermon, the Hail Mary, and the other prayers at the end of the service).

I keep telling Michael we need to get some covers for some of our larger books, so we can “pass” among evangelicals. Here, again, we were book-less. The parishioners had some kind of missal (which seemed to be in English, from the little glimpse I got of the one the woman beside me had — she moved further down the pew when she realized we’d followed her into the row, and I didn’t want to get caught gawking over her shoulder).

Michael informs me that covered books (Harry Potter, say) to pass is tantamount to deceit, and is therefore a kind of lying, and ought not be done in church. I suppose Breaking Dawn as a missal is the same . . . but still. Neither of us seems willing to go and buy another Bible . . . we have probably 2 full boxes of them (including the African American one our Jewish best man got us for our wedding, and a copy of the Boomer Bible (which isn’t a Bible–the AA one is a KJV) . . . but we don’t have a Douay-Rheims, which would have been the proper one today.

We did manage to pass in our clothing, as we’d read up on the dress code. Michael: suit and tie. Jen and Farmergirl: Skirts below the knee and headscarves. The Jeep Hair scarf came in quite handy and matches the brown dress quite nicely. Farmergirl got a plain white Palestinian scarf (it was that, or go with the black-and-white Yassar Arafat one that goes over it. Most of the women were sporting chapel veils and mantillas or hats . . . but I think we came pretty close.

Our passing came to a screeching halt when the service started. Lacking the personal missals everyone else had (fake or otherwise), we grabbed a pew pamphlet titled, “A Method of Assisting at Holy Mass,” which gave a very brief description of what was going on. This longer description more accurately (though not exactly) describes the service we attended, but the pamphlet reduced the first page to this:

The Priest
1. Goes to the Altar
2. Commences Mass.
3. Says the Confiteor.
4. Goes up and kisses the altar.
5. Goes to the Epistle side.
6. Reads the Introit.

We quickly figured out that “the Epistle side” is stage left, and “the Gospel side” is stage right, which helped, in that we could follow more closely the service we could not hear (and, since it was in Latin, probably could not follow, even if we had been able to hear). We did sit toward the middle, so we could properly follow the congregation on when to sit, kneel, and stand. Twice in the service (maybe thrice), we went down for a kneel, and came right back up, which was a new twist in my experience. The service is a bit hard on the knees, especially as the pews, in Michael-the-woodworker’s view, were knocked together with 2bys and plywood (which he contrasted with the ornate baroque style of the rest of the chapel). I’m also not clear on if the signing of oneself should have been the “push” (forehead-chest-right-left), or the “pull” (forehead-chest-left-right). I think it was the latter, and it’s the church of the east that does the former.

The pamphlet listed on the back 6 benefits of attending Mass:
“Every Mass will go with you to your Judgment and will plead pardon for you.”
This is an interesting one, as it personifies (and multiplies) the Mass. I have a mental image of standing at the throne of God, surrounded by every Mass I’ve attended — a little like the Verizon commercial, having my “network” following me around.
“By devoutly assisting at Holy Mass, you render the greatest homage possible to the Sacred Humanity of Our Lord.”
Okay . . . that follows with “do this for the remembrance of me.”
“God forgives you all the venial sins which you are determined to avoid and all of your unknown sins which you have not confessed.”
Venial means “forgiveable” . . . so God forgives all your forgivable sins. They are contrasted with “mortal” sins. The mortal sins need to be confessed and absolved to be forgiven, or the person’s soul is condemned to hell.
“The power of Satan over you is diminished.”
The Catholic Catechism speaks of Satan in Pt. I, Sect. II, Chpt. I, Art. I, Para. 7. 395:

“The power of Satan is, nonetheless, not infinite. He is only a creature, powerful from the fact that he is pure spirit, but still a creature. He cannot prevent the building up of God’s reign. Although Satan may act in the world out of hatred for God and his kingdom in Christ Jesus, and although his action may cause grave injuries – of a spiritual nature and, indirectly, even of a physical nature – to each man and to society, the action is permitted by divine providence which with strength and gentleness guides human and cosmic history. It is a great mystery that providence should permit diabolical activity, but “we know that in everything God works for good with those who love him.”

“Through Holy Mass you are preserved from many dangers and misfortunes which would otherwise have befallen you.”
I’m not sure what this means, except that, had we been somewhere else (driving a car, or climbing a tree, say), we might have crashed the car, or fallen from the tree . . . neither of which happened during the Mass. I’m not sure how this plays out in congregations which have seen violence during the course of their worship services recently.
“You shorten your Purgatory by every Mass.”
I’m not sure what the moral calculus is on this. Is it, for example, hour-for-hour? Does it depend on how attentive you were during a particular mass? Or does it work more case-by-case, like an afterschool detention, where a minor infraction (say, chewing gum for 3 minutes) results in a two-hour stint in detention?  Maybe no one knows.  I certainly don’t.  The interesting thing about Purgatory is that some folks argue that it is based in time (thus, attending Mass may “shorten” this time or the description of being in “limbo”), and others explain that Purgatory may not involve any time at all.

MSM has an interesting history, which I will get into later. Check back for that.

When I start my cult, this is totally going to be my tag line:
“We don’t want to make war; we want to make pancakes.”

http://www.pancakesinthepark.org/
The local newspaper wrote about them:
Pancake Mix: Every other weekend, new friends gather on the South Hill for breakfast, conversation

When I start my cult, the pancakes will be warm.
And the people will be welcoming.

You’re probably thinking, “Hey! Um, Jen — Pancakes in the Park is not a church service.”

Which is true; I’ll grant that.

I think we’ve hit a point in the project where we now turn toward some new questions:  What is the purpose of church?  What is being church?  What is the role of community?  How does one build community? Both Pancakes in the Park and Resurrection at the Rainbow speak to these latter questions, though Pancakes in the Park has no religious component.  I think at this juncture, we’re thinking about what we’ll bring [back? forward? — not sure which way we’re headed in January] from the project — and so instead of going places we know are probably not a good fit (mega churches, for example), we’re working on the “why” and “how” of what it means to be church.

Crap. The Pancakes in the Park was last week. (Many thanks to my lovely and gentle friend Emalee for pointing this out). So . . . we won’t be at Tom and Pam’s tomorrow morning. (Which will probably be a relief to them).

Nonetheless . . .

The Kingdom of God is like strangers meeting for pancakes in the park . . . .

Michael was asked to come and play (guitar) this morning at the annual ECOR in the Park service, which was very cold, and nearly rained out.  We stayed for the potluck afterward, but went home to nap and warm up soon following, because we were chilled through.  It’s 66F in the greatroom as I write this, which is pleasant after several 90+ degree days . . . but I’m [now] wearing two shirts and am still a little cool.

My hat came in doubly useful this morning, as no one brought an offering plate, and the acolytes asked to borrow my hat. I almost scored some extra cash, as it stuck in the inside band when they inverted it, but a wee bit of shaking, and the change was freed. This adds two communions to the count, as we had it at both 8 and 10.

Michael was asked to play the ECOR in the Park service this morning at 10, so we went to the 8am Mass at the Cathedral of St. John the Evangelist, which is the Episcopal cathedral for the Diocese of  Eastern Washington, located on Spokane’s south hill.  If you glance up, to the south, as you pass through Spokane on I-90, you can see the cathedral, which looks a little like a place Batman might live. It’s a small service, as many that early often are (about 22 in attendance), and they do Rite I, which many younger Episcopalians dislike (this was especially apparent in this service, where we were, by decades, the youngest folks in attendance), but for which we have a fond place in our hearts.

When we first became Episcopalians, shortly after our marriage, we were part of the Allegany County Episcopal Ministry (ACEM), which was then six churches served by two supply priests.  Ralph and Liz each celebrated a 9am, then drove across the county to an 11am service, and the remaining two churches either had morning prayer, or one of the three retired supply priests.  The church in the town we bought our first house in occasionally had Fr. Robert B. Bromeley, a stooped, fiery priest who was about 102 at the time and lived in the Philip Church Mansion.  He’d have us (in contrast to Ralph, a traditional NYC liberal) down on our knees doing Rite I with a hellfire-and-brimstone sermon to match.  It’s the only time I’ve ever seen that in the Episcopal church.  I’m sure there are others (they’re probably Anglican now), but this is the only time I’ve seen it.  Fr. Bromeley was certainly old enough in the late 1990s to remember all kinds of traveling revivalist preachers coming through western New York/ PA earlier in the century.

Anyway, because of Fr. Bromeley, we have a tender place in our hearts for both hellfire-and-brimstone sermons and Rite I. (Well, maybe not the former so much, but you take my point).

I think the thing about having such a wide variety early on was that it’s given us some perspective on just how broad the tradition is, even as we’re in the middle of the most conservative jumping ship. And some of the most liberal are becoming “Episcopagans.” (Interesting–I was under the impression that Episcopagan was a self-titling, but it seems it’s actually pejorative. I suspect that, like “queer,” it won’t be for long, but I haven’t found a self-titled online article about Episcopaganism, even as I know people in real life who identify as such).

I proposed this morning that we call it quits and re-title the book “A Month of Sundays” . . . but I was mostly just kidding. We’re taking Farmergirl off to camp this afternoon, and Michael insisted we find an evening service on the other side of the border (to facilitate not driving all around the countryside, and only leaving the mountain once). It would be wise of me not to joke in this way: I am the drive and the verve of this project, and any flagging of my energy might be taken (at least, by Farmergirl) as weakness, and a good time to go in for the kill. An inadvertent outcome of this project, I think, is going to be Farmergirl’s interest (at a time when many kids groan to go) in consistent attendance at a single church.

There weren’t a lot of churches in the Coeur d’Alene area that had websites with service times, and still fewer that had evening services on Sunday, so the list from which to choose was pretty small from the gate. We decided to try the Foundation Baptist Church after reading their rather extensive Statement of Faith and Bylaws.

My roommate in graduate school used to say, of inane rules posted in public places, “You know some one did that. They don’t just make them up. If there’s an inane/strange/or just really specific rule somewhere, it’s because someone did it already.” The first time she said this, it was in reference to a hand-written addition to a list of “dos and don’ts” posted at a temp agency that read, “Don’t show up to your assigned job wearing hair curlers and bunny slippers.” Which makes you wonder . . . what brings about statements like these?

2.01(U). We do believe, however, that a Christian may seek compensation for injuries from another Christian’s insurance company as long as the claim is pursued without malice or slander.

3.03(C). Although the general public is invited to all of the church’s worship services, the church property remains private property. The pastors have the authority to suspend or revoke the right of any person, including a member, to enter or remain on church property. If after being notified of such a suspension or revocation, the person enters or remains on church property, the person may, in the discretion of the pastors be treated as a trespasser.

6.02(D). If the moderator determines that compliance with his order of removal is unsatisfactory, the moderator may, in his sole discretion, revoke the disruptive person’s right to remain on the premises in accordance with Section 3.03(C) and treat the person as a trespasser.

7.06. Any assertion or belief which conflicts with or questions a Bible truth is a pagan deception and distortion of the truth which will be disclaimed as false.

13.06. We reserve the right to deny occupancy to anyone who does not fit the role of a traditional family as stated in the Word of God.

There is an assumption I’ve seen, on the part of doctrine-centric churches, that people who darken their doors both A) also hold doctrine in highest import and B) agree with their particular doctrine. As we were leaving last night, we were engaged in conversation by a pleasant man, who asked how we found the church. (By the website). He said he thought church websites were useful, and I agreed. Then I quipped that he’d be surprised how many didn’t list service times, which I think are important for people who’d like to visit, and said some even now had “what to expect” sections or FAQs that give details like service length, and level of formality or casualness of the congregation’s dress. He said, in response, that websites gave a place to detail the doctrine of a church, and how that was of paramount importance.

I guess if doctrine is of supreme importance in a particular church, a visitor may as well know that in advance, and plan accordingly. In this case, we managed to explain that we had no intentions of returning (we’re visiting different churches this year), and that Farmergirl was at camp (a church camp? yes, a church camp), and that we had been part of a church that we had intentions of returning to . . . all without saying the word “Episcopalian.” It’s probably just as well that gearing up to be “new people” each week leaves me with little energy beyond that, or I’d probably get into verbal fisticuffs with people over coffee every week, and Michael would have long since abandoned the project (but not me–arguing with me was his favourite college pastime).

The Foundation Baptist congregation is doing a study of their heritage, based on the series of lectures from J.M. Carroll’s Trail of Blood. (This is a much better (by which I mean legible) Trail of Blood chart than contained in the book file). It’s interesting to contrast it with the timeline we saw on the wall in the foyer of the Holy Trinity Greek Orthodox and the Orthodox claims about church history (including that of the Baptists).

One of the things that struck both of us, was the persecution theme.  It wasn’t dominate in the sermon yesterday, but it did surface several times during the service, with allusions to the “evil world” and the person of the Devil working to tear down the congregation, and the need for spiritual warfare against the world, the flesh, and the devil.  (I never know if or not to capitalize the word devil . . . is it a pronoun, an honorific (“that’s Mr. The Devil to you”), or just a designation?  I mean, technically, the devil’s name is Lucifer . . . so I don’t think “devil” is a personal pronoun, per se).

What role does a persecution theme play in a congregation?  Does it knit them closer together as a community?  (And does it drive the stakes in further when it divides them?)   If you’re convinced the world is out to get you, then how do you engage the world?  How are you salt and light in your community?

On a tangential note:  We pulled up and realized –agh!– that, once again, we didn’t bring Bibles with us, and there wasn’t a chance we were going to “pass.”  The front page description of the Foundation Baptist Church says that they’re “A church of Fundamental Christians that believe: “what the Bible says, it means!”.” It’s been interesting to note that the churches which place the most emphasis on scripture are the ones least likely to have Bibles available in the pews. This is, of course, because they presuppose everyone will bring them . . . but there is a question of hospitality and inclusion when you ask visitors to follow along (and last night, that meant turning to no fewer than 20 different readings), and then don’t provide copies of the particular Bible (KJV) you hope they’ll use.