Since I moved to DC, I've been looking for a church. I'm spoiled in this area: I've known three churches in 28 years, each unique, but each full of people struggling together, with grace and extreme humanity, to live out the Gospel as they know it. I'm grateful that it's never been that hard, finding the right place to worship.
For awhile, I thought maybe I'd found my place here in DC--National Presbyterian, where the choir is spectacular and the teaching pastor comes from my church in California and I ran into Condi Rice (which I think I forgot to mention)--but it wasn't right. I'm back on the market, so to speak.
This past Sunday, because I had an appointment in Alexandria around midday, I decided to try church in Virginia. The last time I tried this, at a church in Arlington, I got hopelessly lost, missed the service, and decided to go to the mall instead (God knew I needed work pants; He didn't seem to mind). This time, I gave myself plenty of time, printed out detailed directions...and proceeded to get EVEN MORE LOST than the last time. Seriously. It was a nice drive--trees, river, a really interesting program about Sesame Street playing on NPR--but it wasn't church, and I was lost and frustrated and teary anyway over the death of Mr. Hooper. The service had started at 10:30. At 11:05, I arrived (at last) in Alexandria, gave up on actually going to service, and decided to kill a few hours on King Street before my appointment. I was stopped at a red light. Guess what else was at that light? Fairlington Presbyterian Church. Service at 11:00.
Yeah.
I went. It may be my church for the future; it may also be my church just for this week. Either way, I had to laugh, and shake my head, and be grateful.
Showing posts with label church. Show all posts
Showing posts with label church. Show all posts
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Let the record reflect
Tonight at the very end of church, Mark Labberton followed up a sermon on unity in Christ by asking the congregation to hold hands with their neighbors. Oh, we were so close, I thought. Next to me, Christine looked out of the choir loft at her friend Brooke, a visitor, and mouthed, "Sorry!" We grabbed hands and prayed, and afterwards, we confirmed: the Universal Law of Church Visitors had struck again.
You do know the Universal Law, right? I have yet to find it in the Bible (probably buried somewhere in the Minor Prophets, or maybe Leviticus, sandwiched into the kooky wandering-in-the desert laws), but I swear it's there somewhere, and someday I'm going to find it. The Universal Law of Church Visitors states that in the presence of a non-regular attender, church will get weird. The pastor will spontaneously preach on homosexuality or tithing, or will be absent entirely. He or she will be replaced by a drama troupe, missionaries either to or from Africa specializing in sign-language ministries, liturgical dancers in leotards, and/or a church business meeting. It will be Youth Sunday, and (I'm sorry to say) none of the musicians will actually know how to play their instruments. All of the music will be in Portuguese and accompanied only by an accordion and a rhythm gourd. There will be random hand-holding, possibly while singing or chanting. On Christine's first Sunday at First Pres, a man in the front row occasionally took a bite from a bouquet of daisies he held behind his back. Bringing a friend to church is a risky venture.
Maybe the Universal Law should be the least of our worries. Maybe it's some kind of secret vetting process: virgin birth and empty tombs don't go over so well with those who can't hack Sandi Patti and baton-twirling during the offertory. And, to be fair, maybe it's just getting them ready for life in a church community, letting them know that sometimes, church is full of things that are weird or unintentionally funny, because people are weird and unintentionally funny. Church is a place of earnestness, and sometimes earnestness is uncool. Probably best to get it all out in the open. Maybe God's just trying to keep things on the up and up, which is why things always get just a little unusual when you're wishing for the usuality you love so much.
And, frankly, it's probably more an issue of social oversensitivity than anything else. Church gets mocked enough as it is; we can't always help the assumption that newcomers are horrified when things deviate from the schedule. We seem to apologize a lot, even for things that don't bother us. Maybe we should stop that, and trust people's resilience in the face of things that make us cringe, or even the power of God to work through/despite our strangest efforts. I know that. I should try to keep that in mind. And if only the Song of Solomon laser show would tone things down just a little, we might be able to relax.
You do know the Universal Law, right? I have yet to find it in the Bible (probably buried somewhere in the Minor Prophets, or maybe Leviticus, sandwiched into the kooky wandering-in-the desert laws), but I swear it's there somewhere, and someday I'm going to find it. The Universal Law of Church Visitors states that in the presence of a non-regular attender, church will get weird. The pastor will spontaneously preach on homosexuality or tithing, or will be absent entirely. He or she will be replaced by a drama troupe, missionaries either to or from Africa specializing in sign-language ministries, liturgical dancers in leotards, and/or a church business meeting. It will be Youth Sunday, and (I'm sorry to say) none of the musicians will actually know how to play their instruments. All of the music will be in Portuguese and accompanied only by an accordion and a rhythm gourd. There will be random hand-holding, possibly while singing or chanting. On Christine's first Sunday at First Pres, a man in the front row occasionally took a bite from a bouquet of daisies he held behind his back. Bringing a friend to church is a risky venture.
Maybe the Universal Law should be the least of our worries. Maybe it's some kind of secret vetting process: virgin birth and empty tombs don't go over so well with those who can't hack Sandi Patti and baton-twirling during the offertory. And, to be fair, maybe it's just getting them ready for life in a church community, letting them know that sometimes, church is full of things that are weird or unintentionally funny, because people are weird and unintentionally funny. Church is a place of earnestness, and sometimes earnestness is uncool. Probably best to get it all out in the open. Maybe God's just trying to keep things on the up and up, which is why things always get just a little unusual when you're wishing for the usuality you love so much.
And, frankly, it's probably more an issue of social oversensitivity than anything else. Church gets mocked enough as it is; we can't always help the assumption that newcomers are horrified when things deviate from the schedule. We seem to apologize a lot, even for things that don't bother us. Maybe we should stop that, and trust people's resilience in the face of things that make us cringe, or even the power of God to work through/despite our strangest efforts. I know that. I should try to keep that in mind. And if only the Song of Solomon laser show would tone things down just a little, we might be able to relax.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Eight Things
Oh, my! I've been tagged! Whatever shall I do?
Rules: Give 8 random facts about yourself, then tag 8 more people to do the same thing.
The facts are these.
1. I always eat colored candy in reverse-rainbow order, starting with purple (or brown, if we're talking M&Ms) and working my way up to red.
2. I keep a mental list of alternative careers just in case the wordy writing-editing thing fails me. Thus far: librarian, florist, movie location scout, professional driver on a closed course.
3. My friend Maggie and I like to pretend that we're going to start an all-girl punk cover band called Israel and the Minor Prophets.
4. Top Five Celebrity Crushes, Fall 2007 Edition: John Krasinski, John Corbett, Jon Stewart, Zach Gilford, Lee Pace. Orlando Bloom visits when he has a few days off, but he's awfully busy with all that swashbuckling he does.
5. I hand-wrote most of a novel in the seventh grade.
6. I'm not much into shoes, but I adore cute purses.
7. I am a starboard rower, which means that a) my oar goes to the left, b) I sit in an odd-numbered seat (usually 1 or 7), and c) my right arm is bigger than my left.
8. I used to be grossed out by the Presbyterian tradition of dipping sourdough communion bread in grape juice, but now I like the way it tastes.
I don't think I have a combined total of eight bloggish friends, so: if you have a blog and want to consider yourself tagged, do so. If you don't have a blog and want to consider yourself tagged, well, either or Blogger or Wordpress could probably oblige you...
Rules: Give 8 random facts about yourself, then tag 8 more people to do the same thing.
The facts are these.
1. I always eat colored candy in reverse-rainbow order, starting with purple (or brown, if we're talking M&Ms) and working my way up to red.
2. I keep a mental list of alternative careers just in case the wordy writing-editing thing fails me. Thus far: librarian, florist, movie location scout, professional driver on a closed course.
3. My friend Maggie and I like to pretend that we're going to start an all-girl punk cover band called Israel and the Minor Prophets.
4. Top Five Celebrity Crushes, Fall 2007 Edition: John Krasinski, John Corbett, Jon Stewart, Zach Gilford, Lee Pace. Orlando Bloom visits when he has a few days off, but he's awfully busy with all that swashbuckling he does.
5. I hand-wrote most of a novel in the seventh grade.
6. I'm not much into shoes, but I adore cute purses.
7. I am a starboard rower, which means that a) my oar goes to the left, b) I sit in an odd-numbered seat (usually 1 or 7), and c) my right arm is bigger than my left.
8. I used to be grossed out by the Presbyterian tradition of dipping sourdough communion bread in grape juice, but now I like the way it tastes.
I don't think I have a combined total of eight bloggish friends, so: if you have a blog and want to consider yourself tagged, do so. If you don't have a blog and want to consider yourself tagged, well, either or Blogger or Wordpress could probably oblige you...
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Two-timing
I visited a new church this weekend. I'm not church-hunting these days, but sometimes it's nice to see how the other 1% live, right? I sometimes wonder about the East Bay churchgoing community outside of First Pres--who are all of these people, and what kind of churches have they formed? So many of the churches here are basically ethno-specific. Where do all of the rest of us go? And anyway, Maggie was in town, and we'd talked about giving Regeneration a trial run, so I cheated on the 5:05.
My impression of Regen is: for better or for worse, this church out-Oaklands Oakland. They began as a church plant and eventually inherited an old Julia Morgan church building on E. 15th St. from a church that was literally dying out. The congregation is a nice match for the old building: diverse in ethnicity, socioeconomic status, and age, though tending towards the younger set. It's also hip. Hipper than hip. Can church be that hip? I'm not sure I can hang with the hipness of that congregation. They have a kickball team, which kind of says a lot, I think. They also take a pilgrimage to Israel every other year, which also says a thing or two. The worship music was determinedly against the grain of the modern church; these people were all about classic hymns, sort of bluegrassed up. Seriously, when was the last time I sang "In the Garden"? About the time Ralph Lightbody retired, I think. (That would be 1990.) I love that song. I miss hymnals, and words like "tarry."
I guess I appreciate the skeleton of Regeneration: the worship is focused and not showy, the preaching is scriptural in a way that my own church (and possibly Presbyterians in general?) sometimes misses, the congregation reflects the community, and the liturgical and the postmodern are blended in a subtle and thoughtful way. Things ran a little long--2 1/2 hours, or roughly an hour longer than my own church--but can I really fault them for being hardcore?
The thing is, though, that I'm so glad I go to my church. First Pres has its flaws, certainly, but I think it's thoughtful in its own way. For a church of 5,000 people, I'd say we do a remarkable job of not falling into the traps of the American mega-church juggernaut. I may appreciate the skeleton of Regeneration, but I appreciate the meat of First Pres--liturgical gardening (you think I'm kidding), the determination that all services should be followed by food, a visual arts ministry that actually produces interesting art, the Four Hornmen of the Apocalypse, my small group that's really kind of a medium group, "The body of Christ, broken for you; the blood of Christ, shed for you," sprinkling baptism (which isn't as lame as you'd think, coming from a church of dunkers), the modern abolitionist movement, silly Christmas skits, less-silly Christmas cantatas, and a whole host--a whole host--of other things. It's a good place, full of light and hope and learning and family, and I'm glad I go there.
So, thank you, Regen, for letting me visit, and thanks even more for reminding me of where I'm supposed to be.
My impression of Regen is: for better or for worse, this church out-Oaklands Oakland. They began as a church plant and eventually inherited an old Julia Morgan church building on E. 15th St. from a church that was literally dying out. The congregation is a nice match for the old building: diverse in ethnicity, socioeconomic status, and age, though tending towards the younger set. It's also hip. Hipper than hip. Can church be that hip? I'm not sure I can hang with the hipness of that congregation. They have a kickball team, which kind of says a lot, I think. They also take a pilgrimage to Israel every other year, which also says a thing or two. The worship music was determinedly against the grain of the modern church; these people were all about classic hymns, sort of bluegrassed up. Seriously, when was the last time I sang "In the Garden"? About the time Ralph Lightbody retired, I think. (That would be 1990.) I love that song. I miss hymnals, and words like "tarry."
I guess I appreciate the skeleton of Regeneration: the worship is focused and not showy, the preaching is scriptural in a way that my own church (and possibly Presbyterians in general?) sometimes misses, the congregation reflects the community, and the liturgical and the postmodern are blended in a subtle and thoughtful way. Things ran a little long--2 1/2 hours, or roughly an hour longer than my own church--but can I really fault them for being hardcore?
The thing is, though, that I'm so glad I go to my church. First Pres has its flaws, certainly, but I think it's thoughtful in its own way. For a church of 5,000 people, I'd say we do a remarkable job of not falling into the traps of the American mega-church juggernaut. I may appreciate the skeleton of Regeneration, but I appreciate the meat of First Pres--liturgical gardening (you think I'm kidding), the determination that all services should be followed by food, a visual arts ministry that actually produces interesting art, the Four Hornmen of the Apocalypse, my small group that's really kind of a medium group, "The body of Christ, broken for you; the blood of Christ, shed for you," sprinkling baptism (which isn't as lame as you'd think, coming from a church of dunkers), the modern abolitionist movement, silly Christmas skits, less-silly Christmas cantatas, and a whole host--a whole host--of other things. It's a good place, full of light and hope and learning and family, and I'm glad I go there.
So, thank you, Regen, for letting me visit, and thanks even more for reminding me of where I'm supposed to be.
Thursday, April 05, 2007
Odds; ends
- I finished Pants 4 yesterday, and couldn't help giving it a little hug as I put it back on the shelf with its buddies. I'm naming it my second-favorite Pants book: not quite as true and honest and heartbreaking as #2, maybe, but still willing to do some heavy lifting character-wise. I loved Tibby and, surprisingly, Bridget--I think the Vreeland family (or what's left of it) is the final frontier for Bee, and I liked the way she finally had to deal with the people she'd left at home all this time. I would have felt good about the outcome of Lena's story either way, I think; I was ready for her to be content by herself, and I liked the ways in which she grew in this book. But I also feel like I can be gracious to Lena and let her have her happy ending, so it's okay. The ending as it currently stands works for me. In short, I'm really impressed with Ann Brashares and what she's done with herself as a writer since the early days of the original Pants book--this final book in the series is so much more complex and mature than I would have expected from her in the beginning. Well played.
- I've now picked up Broken For You, by Stephanie Kallos, which Katie gave me for Christmas with a note that she thought I "really needed to read this book." So far it's pretty readable but also a little heavy-handed and self-consciously quirky in the way that first novels often are. *shrug* I'll reserve judgement.
- The urge to work on my spec script has flagged this week. I think it's related to the lack of TV--not a single one of my shows is on, so my TV is pretty much sitting there silent, taking up space and failing to inspire me with displays of brilliance by people who are writing. So I'm taking this as a break in the belief that my voice will come back soon. In fact, both The Office and 30 Rock come back tonight, so I'm thinking "soon" might actually mean "today." Bonus: 30 Rock has been renewed for a second season, which means it's technically fair game for spec-scripting. Wooot!
- I am not in the mood to write, but I am in the mood to knit, and knit prolifically. I made it through most of the length of Sleeve 1 (10 reps of a six-row cable pattern; increase at row five, twist the cable at row three!) and am getting up to the shoulder shaping. Very exciting! I'm also about to hit the part of the pattern that's full of things I haven't learned about yet, so I'm trying not to read too far ahead, or I get overwhelmed. One new skill at a time, I say, and soon I will have a sweater! Or, actually half of a sweater. I'm having fun with it, but I hope it goes quickly, because I'm dying to wear it.
- Which brings me to my new favorite thing: podcasts! The point of the podcast escaped me for a long time--if a blog is self-indulgence, written and published for all the world to see, do we really need to add the human voice to that?--but now I'm hooked. It's like having a talk-radio station that only talks about what you want them to talk about! My taste in podcasts is typical and typically nerdy: so far, writing and knitting. I like listening to the Creative Screenwriting magazine podcast, in which a vaguely obnoxious host interviews working screenwriters, at work--something about it has that tantalizing "yes, I'm a waitress, but what I really want to do is direct" quality to it. I've said it before and I'll say it again: there is nothing more inspiring than writers talking about writing, and this principle has gotten me through many a long afternoon of edit entry lately. When I've had it with the self-centeredness of writers, I switch on one of two knitting podcasts: Stash and Burn or Cast On. S&B features two San Francisco knitters talking about...well, knitting. Knitting projects, knitting yarn, knitting stories, knitting road trips, knitting books, knitting jokes. Cast On is a little different in that it's a podcast meant to be heard while knitting, and I've tried to reserve it for that purpose. There's indie music to knit to, a weekly essay on knitting (deeper than you'd think), knitting news (more than you'd think), and a segment in which the podcaster shares the backstory on a sweater she's made. It's a little NPR-ish in its soothingness and its vague more-liberal-than-thou quality, but I find it strangely addicting. Now all I need is a good literature podcast, and I'll be good to go! KLIZ, now broadcasting on a laptop near you!
- That is all, except that today is Maundy Thursday. I've never been to a Maundy Thursday service, and I won't be going this year, either. I am very much looking forward to the Good Friday service at my church tomorrow night, though. Good Friday is such a strange day--something to be *commemorated* but not necessarily *celebrated,* which is a tricky thing, I think. Anyway, I loved the service last year, and this year my choir is performing--we get to hang out in the balcony, behind everyone, and sing a Renaissance-era monks' chant. A capella. In Latin. Not that we're the point of the service, or anything, but we sound GOOD.
- That really is all.
- I've now picked up Broken For You, by Stephanie Kallos, which Katie gave me for Christmas with a note that she thought I "really needed to read this book." So far it's pretty readable but also a little heavy-handed and self-consciously quirky in the way that first novels often are. *shrug* I'll reserve judgement.
- The urge to work on my spec script has flagged this week. I think it's related to the lack of TV--not a single one of my shows is on, so my TV is pretty much sitting there silent, taking up space and failing to inspire me with displays of brilliance by people who are writing. So I'm taking this as a break in the belief that my voice will come back soon. In fact, both The Office and 30 Rock come back tonight, so I'm thinking "soon" might actually mean "today." Bonus: 30 Rock has been renewed for a second season, which means it's technically fair game for spec-scripting. Wooot!
- I am not in the mood to write, but I am in the mood to knit, and knit prolifically. I made it through most of the length of Sleeve 1 (10 reps of a six-row cable pattern; increase at row five, twist the cable at row three!) and am getting up to the shoulder shaping. Very exciting! I'm also about to hit the part of the pattern that's full of things I haven't learned about yet, so I'm trying not to read too far ahead, or I get overwhelmed. One new skill at a time, I say, and soon I will have a sweater! Or, actually half of a sweater. I'm having fun with it, but I hope it goes quickly, because I'm dying to wear it.
- Which brings me to my new favorite thing: podcasts! The point of the podcast escaped me for a long time--if a blog is self-indulgence, written and published for all the world to see, do we really need to add the human voice to that?--but now I'm hooked. It's like having a talk-radio station that only talks about what you want them to talk about! My taste in podcasts is typical and typically nerdy: so far, writing and knitting. I like listening to the Creative Screenwriting magazine podcast, in which a vaguely obnoxious host interviews working screenwriters, at work--something about it has that tantalizing "yes, I'm a waitress, but what I really want to do is direct" quality to it. I've said it before and I'll say it again: there is nothing more inspiring than writers talking about writing, and this principle has gotten me through many a long afternoon of edit entry lately. When I've had it with the self-centeredness of writers, I switch on one of two knitting podcasts: Stash and Burn or Cast On. S&B features two San Francisco knitters talking about...well, knitting. Knitting projects, knitting yarn, knitting stories, knitting road trips, knitting books, knitting jokes. Cast On is a little different in that it's a podcast meant to be heard while knitting, and I've tried to reserve it for that purpose. There's indie music to knit to, a weekly essay on knitting (deeper than you'd think), knitting news (more than you'd think), and a segment in which the podcaster shares the backstory on a sweater she's made. It's a little NPR-ish in its soothingness and its vague more-liberal-than-thou quality, but I find it strangely addicting. Now all I need is a good literature podcast, and I'll be good to go! KLIZ, now broadcasting on a laptop near you!
- That is all, except that today is Maundy Thursday. I've never been to a Maundy Thursday service, and I won't be going this year, either. I am very much looking forward to the Good Friday service at my church tomorrow night, though. Good Friday is such a strange day--something to be *commemorated* but not necessarily *celebrated,* which is a tricky thing, I think. Anyway, I loved the service last year, and this year my choir is performing--we get to hang out in the balcony, behind everyone, and sing a Renaissance-era monks' chant. A capella. In Latin. Not that we're the point of the service, or anything, but we sound GOOD.
- That really is all.
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