I'm going to preface this entry by saying that lately I've developed a shaky belief in God, though Jesus still means very little to me. My mother has also recently decided that she'd like to resume going to church regularly, despite not having done so since I was, I think, three. I don't believe I've written about these things here, and they're necessary for the proper reading of this entry. So, let's go:
I went to church with my mother on Sunday. We're trying to find one that we both like, though I think this will be a very difficult task.
This past Sunday's experience just struck me as odd, though I imagine it wasn't so unusual.
The first thing that struck me was the vast amount of people that were there. I'm used to my grandmother's church, which is small enough that most people know each other. (Whenever prayer requests are read out, she would lean over to me and explain who the person was, and add details as to what had been going on in their lives.) The second thing that struck me was that there were no pews, just a bunch of chairs lined up. Then I noticed the lack of hymnals and Bibles.
I suppose you could bring your own Bible, but they had no hymnals! How are you supposed to know what to sing? I looked up towards the alter, and noticed a huge screen above it. I thought, 'Hm. They probably put the lyrics up there. Likely no music though. I hate when they do that.' And indeed, this was what they did.
But first we watched a short film on the screen. Yes. It struck me as bizarre. A teenage boy's voice was intoning for God, which also struck me as rather unsettling.
Then there was a skit, which had some humorous lines, but no valid point that I can see. It was supposed to make you realise that you can be near God anywhere, but the first moral I drew from it was that you can negotiate with God. I'm sure that wasn't deliberate, but even the unintentional implication struck me as a little off.
I believe it was then that the singing started. There was a full band there, as far as I could see. Guitars and all. None of the traditional instruments I'm used to hearing in such a setting. The music was positively dancey. And there was no musical notation, despite the lyrics being flashed on the gigantic screen, so singing became guesswork. And I disliked that as well. Too many years of vocal training, probably.
Then the preaching. This was more comfortable for me, even if the bible excerpts were put up on the screen, and I prefer holding a book in my hand and finding the verse physically. The actual preaching was done with the aid of a PowerPoint presentation. I almost laughed, when I realised this. God in bulleted points. Reduced to the simplest level of logical comprehension.
Somewhere during all of this we were shown a snippet of Mel Gibson's interview with Diane Sawyer (?), whence they talked about his movie The Passion.
Towards the end of all of this, there was communion. This comforted me. Watching the preparations for this was the best part of the service for me. It was the only area where I could actually feel some Godlike presence in the room. When I watched that being done, and ignored the bouncy music being played, I could actually feel a slight bit of a lift in my spirit. I got a similar feeling when I would focus on the five or six candles that were on a stand near the alter. These things are good, in my mind. They remind me of God. They inevitably instill in me a state of involuntary, intense reverence.
Neither of us took communion, of course. We don't know if we were supposed to or not, but in Catholicism you're not supposed to if you're not Catholic, or even if you've sinned without confessing, so. I'm assuming you'd have to have been a member of the church, at least. My mother and I discussed this, among other things, in the car afterwards. She said that's why she hadn't gone up when we'd visited a Catholic church ages ago. She would've had to confess. I said, rather blithely, 'How long would that take?' She was offended, seeming to think I thought that made her some kind of fantastic sinner. 'I'm not that bad of a person, am I?' But I'd honestly never thought of it that way. It was my understanding, and my mother confirmed this, that in Catholicism, even if you only think a sin, it's still a sin you've committed, and therefore one you should confess to. Then I expressed my bafflement as to how priests had the time to hear all of those confessions. At which point my mother informed me that not everyone confessed every week. This still confuses me. How could anyone be so holy to not need to confess something every week? (Despite my liberal politics, I'm extraordinarily conservative when it comes to religious matters. Or I'm coming to learn that I am, at least.)
So, we had dancey music without hymnals, preaching by PowerPoint, excerpts from TV-interviews, a skit, a mini-movie, and communion. That was church.
The greatest irony of all of this is that I'd been reading Saint Augustine's Confessions all day, before and after this event. Consequentially, I felt further from God in church than at any other time during the day. Something tells me that this is not the way things are supposed to be.
revoless.
3:11 a.m.
February 25, 2004.
Listening to: Azure Ray.
I've been brainwashed! And it's killing my music collection! or Accidental communion with nature