There
was a point when I acknowledged a need to worship God within a Christian
context. It was the ‘how’ that challenged me.
Somewhere
along the line I attended a ‘non-denominational’ service conducted by a dynamic
pastor in a school hall. I was used to the
traditional Catholic and Anglican Churches of my youth so that hall just didn’t
do it for me. (I later learned how traditional architecture, candles, vestments
and icons are triggers for worship.) It also didn’t help that the sermon was on
the need for women to obey their husbands.
The
Anglican parish I was attending seemed to suit my basic needs. Designed by Sir
Hebert Baker, the stone church had beautiful stain-glass windows. The services
just bordered on the high and hazy. It felt like church.
Importantly,
the sermons were exceptional. (My rector became a bishop.) And I’m still in awe of the God-incidence that
took me past several other Anglican parishes between that one and my home.
Frankly
the main reason I kept returning was the new social circle I was slipping into.
I enjoyed the great conversations and the good red wine. My rector and his wife
(my Spiritual Director) subscribed to the Benedictine principles of hospitality.
They were generous hosts. I, who’d
become a real pleb as a single mother building up a major business, was drawn
into company that enjoyed the arts and were creative. Most importantly, several
of them understood the politics of our imminent democracy.
Never
underestimate the power of planned fellowship!
I
was also increasingly impressed by Jesus’ joie
de vivre – the quality of wine he produced at the wedding, the dinner
parties he attended, the friends he visited. His maverick approach to social
taboos.
The
Alpha Course wasn’t doing it for me. Not
enough reasoning for my personality type. But I came from an era in which you finished
your food (for the starving kids in Ethiopia) and anything else you started.
I
did, however, draw the line at the residential week-end that most Alpha courses
focus on. Over two days participants are encouraged to experience the Holy
Spirit. For some this involves speaking in tongues. Others are zapped by the
Holy Spirit and keel over.
No
way Jose! When I was about 11 years old I’d fainted during Mass in Grahamstown’s
Catholic Cathedral and wet my pants. There’d be no encore. I bunked.
Nor
did I have any desire to speak in tongues. Most of you will know that the gift
of tongues is authenticated when, after a person has gabbled away, others are
able to interpret. Invariably there’s a long and sometimes embarrassing pause
before this follows. I often wonder if the interpreter isn’t just being kind.
Okay I accept it’s a special
gift and that it can be a great way to lose oneself in God. However, I’ve never seen it used publicly to really
good effect. What’s your opinion or experience?
