Mormon stakes, part two

So I set off for the Cherry Hill LDS church, still not sure when the meeting might start. I figure that 10:00 am on a Sunday morning might be a reasonable time, and arrive at 9:50. The building is a handsome brick structure in the middle of a residential neighborhood, with a very large parking lot. On the outside of the building are the words “Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints” and “Visitors welcome.” (Later I would notice that other LDS churches in the area are extremely similar in architecture and almost always have the same words on the outside. It’s as though there is only one blueprint for an LDS church building.)


I walk inside and realize that I have arrived not for the beginning of a service, but in the middle. Two things strike me at once: 1) there are no windows in this sanctuary, which makes me feel just a tad claustrophobic, and 2) there are lots and lots of children and babies in this sanctuary. In fact, there are so many children and babies that at times I cannot hear anything except the younger members of the congregation. I sit in a pew against the back wall, next to a couple of very active and very cute young boys who are climbing up and down the back of the pew and eating cookies.


A young Latina girl is standing in the pulpit when I enter; she seems to be reading her statement of faith. She is very sweet – young, earnest, nervous. Now I notice that the congregation is very balanced racially, among black, white, and Hispanic congregants. I estimate that there are about 125 people in a sanctuary that will seat 250. Of these 125, at least 25% are children – this is a congregation with a young average age!


Three men in suits sit behind the pulpit. After the young woman finishes speaking, three other women sing a song without accompaniment, and with very nice harmonies. Next, a man who is obviously a bit nervous about speaking in public comes to the front and speaks for a few minutes about his father (today is Father’s Day). An older man takes the pulpit and speaks about his father, whom he remembers fondly as a poor fisherman and a stern disciplinarian.


We sing a couple of songs, accompanied on the organ and with hymn leaders who wave their arms in the vigorous but largely ineffective manner I have noticed among hymn leaders in other churches. The final hymn is “Sweet Hour of Prayer,” and I am somewhat surprised to find this old standard in a Mormon church. I expected them to have their own, more Mormony hymns.


While we are singing the final hymn, an Indian woman in a sari is distributing presents to the men in the congregation. Judging from the size and shape of the boxes, they might be ties. Perhaps these are Father’s Day presents, although the wrapping papers, confusingly, have Christmas and birthday themes.


After the hymn, a man introduces himself to me and shakes my hand. A woman sitting near me asks if I am a visitor, and I reply affirmatively. She asks where I live. When I tell her “Haddon Township,” she informs me that this service is for the Cherry Hill stake, although I am quite welcome to attend. The Haddon Township stake will have its service at 11:30.


It seems that four different LDS congregations, or stakes, use this building, each with its own meeting time. This strikes me as a practical way for small congregations in the same denomination to use resources: share one building. Everyone seems to be exiting expeditiously, possibly for Sunday School or something like that. So I exit also.


It’s only 10:30. I haven’t really seen a Mormon service, only part of a service. However, I can’t wait an hour for the next one, because I have to get back home so that Neil can use the car. I’ll have to try to attend a complete Mormon church service at some other time. I decide to drive around looking for a church with an 11:00 service. I realize it might be hard to find a church with an 11:00 service in the middle of the summer, but, on the other hand – there are so many churches! Maybe I’ll get lucky.