Tonight I rode it over to St. Michael's-in-the-hills for a regional confirmation with our bishop. The church is right off the bike trail and only about 2 miles away.
When I got there it was like stepping into an Episcopal museum. All the things we had abandoned... the formalities of procession and the communion rail, the archaic robes and vestments, the cumbersome use of the hymnal along with the bulletin, and sometimes the book of common prayer (called the Episcopal shuffle) were there in full force. the choir was shoved into the back of the nave behind the altar, and then split by a massive wooden organ. The organist seemed as much as a relic as the rest of the church.
Then I saw our bishop. He was dressed in a flowing red robe with white puffy sleeves and a red ribbon tied around each wrist. Between the vestment and the ornate shepherd's crook it seemed he was dressed more for a re-enactment than for a living, breathing religious service. A old, thick wooden chair was set up in front of the altar for the bishop to sit in as he confirmed and received people into the Episcopal Church. as each person knelt one at a time to receive his laying on hands, he droned the same prayer over and over. All I could see was his back... a man with graying hair in a red robe on a big wooden chair with people waiting in line to see him.
...All I could think of was Santa Claus. He was here in his department store performing that oh-so-necessary ritual for the little girls and boys who beleived he would come down their chimney on Christmas Eve with toys and sugar plums. And in some ways I don't think I'm far off the mark here.
Just as visiting Santa at the mall has become a ritual across the country for families (I myself was deathly afraid of Santa, so there was never any joy in my visits to him), so has this ritual become more a formality than a festival of joy for our new members. Any chance to express the joy I felt for those who came to be received and confirmed was relegated to a happy "Amen" which concluded the same prayer our bishop parroted for each person. After being at Trinity for several years, I had forgotten how stifling other Episcopal Parishes can feel. The bishop's homily didn't help. Some analogy involving fly fishing and interruped every few seconds by an annoying crackle in the sound system. I wondered where the living, breathing version of Christianity I had come to know had gone...I wanted so badly to change the feel of the place, to get those people in the room to break out of their shell, so to speak, and truly celebrate the occasion...
...luckily there was quite an amount of people from Trinity there also. And their spirit was the same as always... loud and joyous. During the peace, it seemed to change. A spirit came over the room. It was loud, happy, chaotic, busy, and very expressive. It seemed contagious to those who were not from our parish, and soon they were caught up in it too. By the end of the service it didn't seem like the same place it had been an hour ago.
After the service was the reception. Though not many could stay for it, it felt more communal than the service ever did. By the time it was over it was well past sunset. Luckily I got a ride home from a friend, so I didn't have to ride my bike in the dark. I'm going to have to get some lights for it someday...
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