A Church Worthy

Last Thursday's minor surgical procedure did meet with one irksome complication, which to describe might cause contorted facial expressions among those who read this, especially if I were to include an account of the remedy. So suffice it to say that "everything came out" okay and all is well.

Despite the extended period of discomfort, there was a delightful upside to the time spent in and around Shadyside UPMC hospital in Pittsburgh. Polly and I stayed in the hospital's Family House across Centre Avenue from the medical center, a six-floor apartment building that provides beautiful, spacious and comfortable accommodations for patients and/or their families. As helpful as having living quarters close by was, the truly enjoyable aspect of our six-day sojourn into Steeler territory came on Sunday.

Just two doors down from the Family House is a church, First United Methodist Church to be precise, an imposing gigantic structure that probably ranks as one of our country's finest examples of Romanesque church architecture dating from the late 1800s. Because of limited mobility, the decision to attend church two doors down was a "no-brainer." Though some misgivings did surface when I noticed a huge banner on the lawn advertising Wednesday evening "Worship Jams." "Ugh!" I thought, "Are we in for another one of those hip-hop jiving to Jesus jamborees?" Quickly, I decided that before entering the sanctuary I would skim the worship bulletin and, if my suspicions were confirmed, inconspicuously slip back out of the church.

What greeted me, however, when entering the building, was harmonious choral music emanating from the sanctuary. The choir was warming up and practicing the anthem for the day. "All right!" I thought, "This sounds promising," as, indeed, it was.

Being early, there were only a few others scattered throughout the nave, an African-American couple nearby, he dressed in a beige suit, she in a stylish dress.. A few others had taken seats too far away to see clearly. As with most "respectable" Methodists, I chose a seat nearer the rear of the sanctuary and allowed the practicing choir to assist my quieting of mind and spirit in preparation for worship. The choir soon finished rehearsing, and rather than rushing off to don robes, there in the sanctuary stillness the choristers, one by one, offered individual prayers; the words were inaudible to one seated in the rear; nonetheless, a gentle hum formed by the many voices seemed more than the sum of the individual parts.

The choir then exited the sanctuary and a flurry of activity began: the pastor checking his notes in the pulpit (which is elevated about four feet above human contradiction); acolytes not yet garbed in their acolyte apparel, fetching their candle-lighters in jeans and Nikes; the music director placing a pair of conga drums in the chancel; and, worshippers filtering into the pews.

What an array of humanity gathered in that sanctuary! African-Americans, Latinos, Asians, Caucasians, Gays, Straights, children, parents, students, professors, senior citizens, some fashionably outfitted, others casually or plainly attired--a microcosm of the globe! A man appearing to be in his fifties was seated in the front row, his disability somewhat more obvious than ours are, and yet, congregant after congregant went out of his or her way to carry on friendly conversations with this lone occupant of the front row. A young woman rose from her seat, walked up the center aisle toward the rear doors, her tight slacks sporting worn places, holes even, that would have raised disapproving glares from the typical churchgoers I have known over the years. Three rows directly ahead of me was a couple probably in their mid-twenties who held each other in warm embraces throughout the service, both women taking turns resting each other's arm around the other and their heads on each other's shoulders.

A beautiful Latino family consisting of mom, dad, and two sons, one about three years old, the other an infant asleep in his carrier, sat in the pew in front of me. Occasionally, dad would reach across his two children and place his arm affectionately on his wife's shoulder, or rub his older son's head. When we stood to sing the first hymn ("Let All Things Now Living"), something about my voice (hopefully not too earsplitting) caught the little boy's attention. He turned around and looked up at me; I in return smiled back at him. He quickly turned away. That began a ritual of his looking at me and my smiling back and then his turning away, a sort of variation of "peek-a-boo." Shortly before the end of the hymn, I smiled and waved, and this time the little boy smiled and waved back. Our game ended when the hymn did. What a sign of health and wholeness it is when children in the midst of an overwhelming space, yet in their parents' presence, feel trusting enough to venture out into the surrounding environment.

When it was "Family Time" (the spot in the service for the children to gather on the steps of the chancel, some accompanied by parents), the Latino dad and son walked hand-in-hand to join the more than thirty other children and a few other parents for the children's message. Afterwards, dad took his son to another part of the building where supervised activities are held for young children, and then rejoined his wife and infant son in the sanctuary. Intermittently, this beautiful young couple held hands or extended arms around shoulders during the rest of the service.

The worship service included Holy Communion. (Unlike some traditions that observe the sacrament every week, United Methodists have struggled to follow their founder's [John Wesley] insistence on "frequent communion," but the common practice today in many Methodist congregations of holding communion on the first Sunday of each month is actually closer to Wesley's instruction than at any other time in American Methodism.) Since "communion Sundays" mean that the service will take longer, most UM pastors plan shorter sermons/meditations to help keep the service from being too long. That was so at this service. Pastor Bob Wilson's message was brief, but very masterful in unpacking the day's scripture lesson, helping us to understand that the early church's emphasis on koinonia, which is most often translated "fellowship," is a far richer concept than mere friendliness. He argued convincingly and correctly that koinonia encompasses the kind of compassionate family connection that accepts and strives together in the midst of both suffering and joy, conflicts and consensus, in times of chaos and times of contentment. "Pastor Bob" went on to describe the history of how in Shadyside First Church that deepened sense of family has manifested itself through the years, and how the same quality continues to be lived-out, not only within the walls of the church building, but in the surrounding community as well. Witnessing the wide acceptance of people from all walks of life actually happening in what was turning out to be a truly enriching time of worship coupled with Pastor Bob's words pointing to the same reality, I found myself in one of those rare instances when word and actions coalesce to drive home the point. What an awesome time of worship visiting at Shadyside First was turning out to be.

Of course, given my musical propensities, the icing on the cake came with the great choral and congregational singing, including singing contemporary versions of the traditional communion responses (Sanctus, Memorial Acclamation, and Great Amen). The song that concluded the service, which I had never heard before, was a kind of calypso rendering with only the Conga drums accompanying:

I believe that peace will come.

I believe that hope will rise.

I believe that love will thrive.

Shadyside's Mission Statement is succinct:

• First United Methodist Church of Pittsburgh affirms that God's grace is available to all.
• We prayerfully seek to openly welcome all of God's children regardless of Christian perspective, education, economic condition, race, gender, national origin, physical and mental abilities, sexual orientation, age, or marital status.
• We commit ourselves to be in ministry for and with all persons, independent of society's regard.
• God blesses us all so that together we can be God's instruments of blessing to the world.

I can't say, because no one really knows what the church to come will be, but I so fervently want to believe that the Christian communities that survive will look and act like this amazing congregation.