Last weekend I was invited by a friend of mine to attend his church to hear him give a talk.
His church, Unitarian Universalist, is known for--or, I should say, is defined by--its open ended approach to theology, or lack thereof. Within its ranks you will find New Age spiritualists, vague semi-Christians, and even straight-up atheists. Their motto is, "The Church that Believes in YOU!" I was curious as to what their Sunday service might look like.
I arrived at the ten o'clock service a bit late. The congregation was seated in rows of chairs, rather like a normal church. Full-size mirrors ran the length of the side walls, like a gym.
On the front wall hung a string of small flags carrying the 'trademarks' of the world's religions: An 'OM', a star and crecent, the star of David, the eight-spoked wheel, a yin-yang, a cross (actually more like a plus-sign), a Native-American spear-and-wheel, and a neolithic fertility goddess.
The room was otherwise unadorned except for a small table in front of the podium with a few candles, a flower, and a small statue that for the life of me looked exactly like the cursed tiki idol that Greg and Peter found in
'The Brady Bunch: Hawaii Bound!'My friend was seated on the raised dias, we exchanged a small wave as I found my seat. A woman was seated on the floor next to the podium, and she was reading a story to the children around her. The story was called "
Hip Hip Hooray for Maggie May" or something. The basic point of the story was that you don't have to rely on anyone but yourself.
After that we all stood to sing a song about turning aside from crying and fighting, and instead opening windows, and minds, and letting the dove fly in. The song was sung to the tune of Harry Belafonte's
Banana Boat Song("
DAAAY-o, me say day-ay-ay-o", that one.) The song was less than clear about the provenance, purpose, or effective power of said dove, I assumed that it was the dove of peace--a good symbol.
After a short meditation about the strength and goodness of our hands, ("Look at your hands, they are good. They are strong.") my friend delivered his talk, which was a personally and historically illustrated discussion of the interconnected role of moderation and idealism. It was well researched and clear, funny too. I liked it, and the congregation seemed to like it as well. We formed a closing circle, said a final closing prayer, or, rather, a closing exhortation, during which my friend read a great quote from Calvin Coolidge.
After congratulating my friend on a good talk, I left, thinking about Coolidge's insistence on the omnipotent power of perseverance, and how true that is. As I drove home, I passed a church with two large gold domes with crosses atop them. "St. Mary and the Archangel Michael
Coptic Orthodox Church," the sign read. Knowing that the Coptic church was historically the Christian church of Egypt, and being a culturally curious type, I pulled in to their parking lot, and went in.
As I opened the door, I heard, in English, a man singing in the otherworldly tones of
Egyptian chant, "
AND CHRIST SAID, WHO DO YOU SAY THAT I AM?" The congregation chanted back, "
YOU ARE THE SON OF GOD!" The robed deacons crashed together small cymbals, as they sent up great swirling jellyfish billows of incense up to the rows of angels and saints painted above the congregation. The people crossed themselves frequently, in the Eastern style: three fingers together, as a symbol of the Trinity, the hand tracing up, down, right, left to form the cross. I stood with them, somewhat dazed, and crossed myself as well, habitually going from left to right, Roman style. The singer continued, "
Then Jesus said to his disciples, 'Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it,'" to which the crowd responded, loudly, "
AMIIN!"
Being late for my own church's Mass, before leaving I took a last look around at the paintings which circled above me, their eyes with expressions somehow exactly halfway between anger and compassion. I thought again of the small flags in my friends Unitarian church, and began to wonder, what, in fact, did they mean?
Were they signs of invitation to religious thought?
Or homeopathic talismans meant to ward it off?
But, I still make tons music. I just don't post it all. Here, have a Kid Sister remix:
