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nonionayThe Neil Gaiman reading last night was held in the United Methodist Church. Despite my fascination wtih religion, I've only ever been in Catholic, Episcopal or Anglican churches. My first reaction when entering the pews was that there were no kneelers! So narrowly packed were the pews that there wouldn't even be room. However, we were in the balcony, and the steeply set rows allowed one to dangle one's feet over a step into the space below the next pew down.
I was raised Catholic, and Catholic churches, so similar the world over, provide a solid sense for my sense of spiritual community. (despite my theological and moral differences with said Catholics) Anyway, the kneelers! A pew is a fascinating thing. Modular, they have a little compartment on the back to hold hymnals and (in Catholic churches, at least) the Order of Mass, so you can follow along, and often golf pencils, so necessary to the writing of tithe checks and the entertainment of small children during the boring stretches of mass. *
Also attached to the back, and also in service not to the occupant of the pew, but the people behind them, is the kneeler. A kneeler can be put up or down, providing a footrest when not kneeled upon. It transforms a static seating device into a space of motion. You don't sit on a pew--you wait. The moment comes when motion is necessary. As one (or often in an uncertain tide, like when I went to a wedding half-attended by Mormons who had no idea what was going on) everyone rises, or kneels. Yes, it's a familiar, sheep-like motion, but it's one I'm fond of. Sure, others get the wild dances and pentacostal tongues, or the door-to-door mission work. Sure, other religions get more exercise than the Catholics, but dammit, it's a slow, peaceful tide I love. Compared to some sects, Catholicism is as old and reliable as the moon. I get in my exciting bouts of spiritual ecstasy, to be sure, but going back to church, every once in a while, is like coming home. **
Anyways, United Methodist Church is a beautiful place, great for readings and, I'm sure, being a Methodist.
*Thinking about it now, I think those boring stretches were a vital part of my childhood. My church was a simple one, architecturally, but I knew every crack and crevice, every light and fan vent. The shapes stimulated my imagination, and they still do. Thanks to my memory merging thoughts and the space they were thought in, every time I see Splinter from the Ninja Turtles, I'm carried back to sitting behind the silhouetted choir, watching the deacon homilize on behalf of our absent priest.
** To an occasionally annoying and exasperated family.
I was raised Catholic, and Catholic churches, so similar the world over, provide a solid sense for my sense of spiritual community. (despite my theological and moral differences with said Catholics) Anyway, the kneelers! A pew is a fascinating thing. Modular, they have a little compartment on the back to hold hymnals and (in Catholic churches, at least) the Order of Mass, so you can follow along, and often golf pencils, so necessary to the writing of tithe checks and the entertainment of small children during the boring stretches of mass. *
Also attached to the back, and also in service not to the occupant of the pew, but the people behind them, is the kneeler. A kneeler can be put up or down, providing a footrest when not kneeled upon. It transforms a static seating device into a space of motion. You don't sit on a pew--you wait. The moment comes when motion is necessary. As one (or often in an uncertain tide, like when I went to a wedding half-attended by Mormons who had no idea what was going on) everyone rises, or kneels. Yes, it's a familiar, sheep-like motion, but it's one I'm fond of. Sure, others get the wild dances and pentacostal tongues, or the door-to-door mission work. Sure, other religions get more exercise than the Catholics, but dammit, it's a slow, peaceful tide I love. Compared to some sects, Catholicism is as old and reliable as the moon. I get in my exciting bouts of spiritual ecstasy, to be sure, but going back to church, every once in a while, is like coming home. **
Anyways, United Methodist Church is a beautiful place, great for readings and, I'm sure, being a Methodist.
*Thinking about it now, I think those boring stretches were a vital part of my childhood. My church was a simple one, architecturally, but I knew every crack and crevice, every light and fan vent. The shapes stimulated my imagination, and they still do. Thanks to my memory merging thoughts and the space they were thought in, every time I see Splinter from the Ninja Turtles, I'm carried back to sitting behind the silhouetted choir, watching the deacon homilize on behalf of our absent priest.
** To an occasionally annoying and exasperated family.
