Falling deeper into the hands of the living God

Holy Trinity Episcopal Church
Collingswood, NJ
November 25, 2007

I checked their website and decided to attend the 10:00 Family Mass and Sermon; since I had already visited several Episcopalian churches (see here and here and here and here), I didn’t do any special reading or preparation ahead of time.

This doesn’t start well. Once again I march up to what looks for all the world like the front door of a church, only to find that it is locked. This has happened more than once already during my year of visiting churches, and I am only about halfway through the year! Luckily, some older women are getting out of their car at about the same time and they point me in the right direction, around the corner. Apparently the big red doors that face the street were the front doors of this church at one time, but since then renovations have resulted in another entrance, off to the side. One woman tells me that she made the same mistake the first time she came to this church, so apparently this has been going on for years.

Inside, I find that this is another one of those churches with an upstairs sanctuary. As usual, at least one older parishioner is moving up the steps with some difficulty. And once again I marvel at the way people did not seem to be concerned with mobility issues when designing buildings only a few decades ago. What were they thinking? Was everyone spry back then?

Upstairs I am greeted pleasantly, handed a program, and asked to sign the guest book, located on a stand in the rear of the church.

The church has lovely stained glass windows, one for each of the twelve apostles. It seems a bit of a mixture of old and newish – like an older church that was remodeled in the fifties. The pews have bright red cushions, and the altar cloths are red and white. There is a rather large thing that seems to be a heating vent directly above the red and gold cross centered on the sanctuary wall, which seems a little unfortunate – but it’s hard to combine modern convenience with older architecture.

As the service begins, a group of people including four children wearing black robes covered with white smocks proceed to the rear of the sanctuary, some carrying candles and crosses, and when the organist begins the prelude they process back up to the front again.
The rector is wearing a gorgeous blue and white robe over his gown. The first hymn is “Bring Forth the Royal Diadem, and Crown Him Lord of All.” This is my first surprise – this group can really sing! Surely there are no more than 70 people in a sanctuary that could seat at least 350, but their voices are not drowned in all that empty space. Impressive.

All the readings are printed in a bulletin insert, and very easy to follow. The second hymn is listed as the Gradual Hymn; I looked up the terminology later and discovered that gradual hymns were sung from a raised step (gradus) immediately before the reading of the Gospel. The Gradual Hymn today is “O Worship the King, All Glorious Above,” and once more the congregation hits a home run with their singing. I am suddenly feeling very enthusiastic about the music here.

During the last verse, the rector walks up into the pulpit. Hey – at some point he must have removed that blue and white robe, but I didn’t notice him doing it. He has a good, clear voice, which is handy because I can also hear the kids in Sunday School somewhere else in the building.

The sermon is about the words of one dying man to another – the pastor draws our attention to the fact that only one man, a condemned thief, expressed faith in Christ’s kingdom at the cross. This may be because the near approach of death had wonderfully concentrated his mind – as he experienced dying, he was “falling deeper into the hands of the living God.”

The sermon is seven minutes long, and I like it quite a bit.
During the prayers after the sermon I am struck again by the way Episcopalians and Catholics use first names when praying, which sounds odd to me. We pray for “George, our President, Richard, our Vice President, and Jon, our governor.” It seems like such a contrast with the formality of other aspects of the service. Plus, Episcopalians and Catholics tend to use fancy titles like “Your Holiness” or “Your Eminence” when addressing church officials in person, but assume this chummy first-name style during prayers. (Also, it took me a half-second to realize who he meant when he prayed for Richard, our Vice President. Richard? Oh yeah – Dick Cheney.)

Then comes the Peace, and I shake hands with a few people. Next announcements, and I learn that there will be a brunch after the service. Then the Offertory Hymn, and Holy Communion. The method is intinction, and now comes another first for me – the server puts the wafer directly on my tongue.

The Communion hymn is another favorite – Crown Him with Many Crowns – although I’ve always found one of the phrases a touch ominous: Hark! how the heavenly anthem drowns all music but its own.
As I gather my things, someone approaches and hands me a blue tote bag imprinted with the church’s name, address, phone number, and website address. It contains several brochures with information about this church and about the Episcopal Church, including a helpful brochure titled “Church Customs Every Episcopalian Ought to Know.”. This brochure begins, “Entering an Episcopal Church for the first time can be daunting.”
I follow everyone downstairs for the brunch. On the way, I fall in with a woman who has evidently looked me up in the guest book I signed earlier, because she tells me that she will soon move into the apartment building in which I live. We chat about apartments on our way downstairs, and about the difficult housing market (she can’t move until she sells her house). I notice drawings of what seem to be plans for a church addition or renovation pinned to the walls, and ask about them, and she tells me that plans are on hold at present.

Light refreshments have been set up on a table in the basement, and people are sitting at tables arranged a big U-shape. I have some nuts and fruit and stand to one side, trying to look pleasant and approachable. Someone comes up and says hello, and I suddenly realize that I saw her in a local children’s play recently – she was the Blue Fairy! It was a good production, and I tell her so.

I stand around longer, but no one else talks to me. Well, I know it’s hard to talk to strangers. Seems like a nice group; good sermon; great singing.

I’m getting somewhat bored with visiting churches, though. And I wonder how these big old buildings are going to be adequately supported by these smaller modern congregations. It's a problem everywhere.