St. Bartholomew’s Episcopal Church
May 27, 2007
Cherry Hill, New Jersey
I hadn’t intended to visit another Episcopalian church so soon after visiting St. Mary’s, but the rector at St. Bart’s, a friend, had invited Neil and me to attend the service for the Day of Pentecost. So this time I wouldn’t be attending a new church as a stranger walking through the door, but as an invited guest. It was a busy week, and I didn’t do one blessed thing to prepare for the visit.
St. Bart’s is a modern wood and brick structure, with small stained-glass clerestory windows, situated on a major highway. There is a nice garden behind the church, and when you approach the doors from the parking lot you walk along a tiny garden path, which provides a bit of almost-cloister walk. Two greeters shake hands with us as we enter.
I would estimate that the church seats about 400, and there are at least 200 people in attendance. This is easily the most racially integrated of the churches I have attended so far – they have almost an exact balance of black and white congregants. The raised altar area features a very large red and gold cross, as well as banners aplenty.
During the procession, two acolytes bear long poles with red and gold streamers on top, which they wave enthusiastically during the opening hymn. There is a happy birthday helium balloon near the front altar, which is explained by Father Peter’s opening words: “Good morning. Today is the day of Pentecost, which is the church’s birthday. Happy birthday!”
This is a very busy service! Several people, young and old, take turns with the readings. They are doing a special arrangement with the readings for Pentecost: sixteen people take turns at the microphone reading a Bible passage, each in a different language. As each reader steps away from the microphone he or she continues to read, so that by the end we are listening to sixteen languages being spoken at once, in imitation of the original day of Pentecost. Very nice.
Father Peter does a children’s sermon that involves a helium balloon. He then gives a homily on the topic of being filled with the Spirit. He’s a clear and energetic speaker. He doesn’t use the pulpit, but stands in front of the middle aisle.
There is a baptism, followed by something called The Cherry Hill Minute, which seems to be their term for what I’m used to calling passing the peace (people walk around, shake hands, and say “peace be with you”). Almost every church does something like this nowadays, and I’m really sick of it. Who decided that speed-greeting would create an atmosphere of fellowship? Well, I probably shouldn’t be so hard on this. Lots of people seem to love passing the peace.
After the offertory, the Eucharist is celebrated, using Eucharistic Prayer D, which is taken from the Eastern Rites, and incorporates chant. Although the bulletin clearly states that “all baptized believers in our Lord Jesus Christ are welcome to receive Holy Communion,” neither Neil nor I go forward for it. He no longer communes in non-Roman Catholic churches. I probably would have gone forward if he hadn’t been there, but it just seems easier and less awkward for us both to stay in the pew.
During communion someone plays a piano piece that is listed in the bulleting as “a tribute to the victims of Katrina in New Orleans.” This is Memorial Day weekend, so Memorial Day prayers are said during the post-Communion prayer, and someone plays taps on a trumpet. The service takes about an hour and a half, which is not surprising, since so much is going on.
At some point during the service I reflect that before I started visiting churches I had assumed that all Episcopalian churches were sort of formal and solemn, but that the two I’ve attended so far have been just the opposite – lively, informal, and very energetic.
Afterwards we file downstairs to the church basement for an international lunch, in keeping with the multinational theme of Pentecost. I believe this is the first time I’ve seen (or eaten) toad-in-the-hole. It turns out the most interesting thing about this dish is its name.
I’m being utterly lazy this Sunday. There was no visitor card to fill out that I noticed, so I didn’t do that. Neil and I sit and talk with Father Peter, but I don’t make any effort to introduce myself to anyone else, and they don’t really talk much to us, even the people who are sitting at the same table. I think they assume that we are Father Peter’s guests, and that there is no need to find out who we are.
May 27, 2007
Cherry Hill, New Jersey
I hadn’t intended to visit another Episcopalian church so soon after visiting St. Mary’s, but the rector at St. Bart’s, a friend, had invited Neil and me to attend the service for the Day of Pentecost. So this time I wouldn’t be attending a new church as a stranger walking through the door, but as an invited guest. It was a busy week, and I didn’t do one blessed thing to prepare for the visit.
St. Bart’s is a modern wood and brick structure, with small stained-glass clerestory windows, situated on a major highway. There is a nice garden behind the church, and when you approach the doors from the parking lot you walk along a tiny garden path, which provides a bit of almost-cloister walk. Two greeters shake hands with us as we enter.
I would estimate that the church seats about 400, and there are at least 200 people in attendance. This is easily the most racially integrated of the churches I have attended so far – they have almost an exact balance of black and white congregants. The raised altar area features a very large red and gold cross, as well as banners aplenty.
During the procession, two acolytes bear long poles with red and gold streamers on top, which they wave enthusiastically during the opening hymn. There is a happy birthday helium balloon near the front altar, which is explained by Father Peter’s opening words: “Good morning. Today is the day of Pentecost, which is the church’s birthday. Happy birthday!”
This is a very busy service! Several people, young and old, take turns with the readings. They are doing a special arrangement with the readings for Pentecost: sixteen people take turns at the microphone reading a Bible passage, each in a different language. As each reader steps away from the microphone he or she continues to read, so that by the end we are listening to sixteen languages being spoken at once, in imitation of the original day of Pentecost. Very nice.
Father Peter does a children’s sermon that involves a helium balloon. He then gives a homily on the topic of being filled with the Spirit. He’s a clear and energetic speaker. He doesn’t use the pulpit, but stands in front of the middle aisle.
There is a baptism, followed by something called The Cherry Hill Minute, which seems to be their term for what I’m used to calling passing the peace (people walk around, shake hands, and say “peace be with you”). Almost every church does something like this nowadays, and I’m really sick of it. Who decided that speed-greeting would create an atmosphere of fellowship? Well, I probably shouldn’t be so hard on this. Lots of people seem to love passing the peace.
After the offertory, the Eucharist is celebrated, using Eucharistic Prayer D, which is taken from the Eastern Rites, and incorporates chant. Although the bulletin clearly states that “all baptized believers in our Lord Jesus Christ are welcome to receive Holy Communion,” neither Neil nor I go forward for it. He no longer communes in non-Roman Catholic churches. I probably would have gone forward if he hadn’t been there, but it just seems easier and less awkward for us both to stay in the pew.
During communion someone plays a piano piece that is listed in the bulleting as “a tribute to the victims of Katrina in New Orleans.” This is Memorial Day weekend, so Memorial Day prayers are said during the post-Communion prayer, and someone plays taps on a trumpet. The service takes about an hour and a half, which is not surprising, since so much is going on.
At some point during the service I reflect that before I started visiting churches I had assumed that all Episcopalian churches were sort of formal and solemn, but that the two I’ve attended so far have been just the opposite – lively, informal, and very energetic.
Afterwards we file downstairs to the church basement for an international lunch, in keeping with the multinational theme of Pentecost. I believe this is the first time I’ve seen (or eaten) toad-in-the-hole. It turns out the most interesting thing about this dish is its name.
I’m being utterly lazy this Sunday. There was no visitor card to fill out that I noticed, so I didn’t do that. Neil and I sit and talk with Father Peter, but I don’t make any effort to introduce myself to anyone else, and they don’t really talk much to us, even the people who are sitting at the same table. I think they assume that we are Father Peter’s guests, and that there is no need to find out who we are.
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