Sara and I have been visiting some area churches when we have a chance, mostly on Sunday evenings, to experience worship (it's such a gift, when you're a worship leader, to be able to worship in the pews like everyone else now and then!) and to learn what other churches in our area are doing.
So tonight we took a member of our New Light community with us, and we visited a church we'd heard good things about, for their Sunday evening service. It's a very traditional church in a mainline denomination -- not known for innovation or creativity, but known for embracing the richness of tradition and liturgy. We like that kind of worship now and then... It connects us with the mystery of a God who's the same yesterday, today, and forever.
We arrived a few minutes early and headed toward the main entrance. A couple of people were doing something outside in a dark spot to our left, and noticing our hesitation, one of them asked, "Are you here for the service?" When we said yes, he pointed us toward the door toward which we were walking: "Just go in there and around to the left and you'll see the chapel. We'll be in in a minute."
The only problem was, the narthex of the church was pitch dark. Weird, we thought. With some uncertainty, we found our way through this unfamiliar space in total darkness, and into a sanctuary which was also completely dark except for a few mostly dimmed lights in the chancel area at the far end of the room. We walked slowly through the shadowy sanctuary and into the well lit chapel at the opposite end of the sanctuary from the chancel, where two or three people had gathered waiting for the service to begin.
No one spoke, and the room was cold and silent. We sat in a pew near the door and spent a few minutes enjoying the beauty of the architecture all around us. The service followed traditional liturgy, but there were no books available in our pew, and it wasn't clear where to find them. We mostly listened, and Sara and I took turns with Rachel out in the main sanctuary (still dark), since the service wasn't particularly child friendly, and it was impossible to keep our 17-month-old quiet and still.
What would have helped to make this a more meaningful experience for us? A few simple things: lights in the narthex and sanctuary... perhaps a greeter to welcome us and make sure we had the bulletin and book necessary to experience worship fully... a few friendly words from those around us... a brief orientation to the liturgy... ideally a comfortable space for children with a childcare attendant (and I recognize this isn't possible for every service)...
It's always interesting to be the newcomer, isn't it? We see things so clearly as the newcomer -- things we fail to see in our own settings, when familiarity renders us essentially blind. I certainly don't mean to condemn or criticize -- only to share my own experience, which helps me to imagine how newcomers to the church I serve might experience their first visit. I know there are many things our own church can do to more effectively welcome the newcomer. Perhaps the things we're overlooking are different, but no less mystifying to the newcomer in our midst.
It has to begin, I think, with awareness... self-reflection... an intentional effort to anticipate the newcomer's experience... which begins with an expectation that there will be guests at worship. I wonder if this particular church even expected any newcomers. How would it change things if they did?
1 comment:
I love the way you lift up issues for thought - much more gentle an approach than I sometimes seem to take. Thanks for your ministry and your insight. It helps me in my own journey.
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