Our own little church had sponsored a gospel sing a few months back - something pretty risqué for a bunch of Episcopalians. I thought it was a wonderful mix of lively music and dance, great refreshments afterward and a rare gathering of black and white folks in spirited fellowship together.
I was born Methodist and raised on good, hearty hymns like "What a Friend We Have in Jesus" and "I Will Be True." We served Welch's grape juice instead of wine for communion, which we had once every few months, and our sermons lasted a good 30 minutes, long enough for the men of the congregation to catch a nap.
I was taught that I should sit in my seat and listen during the worship hour. The sanctuary was reserved for quiet reflection and meditation. We had music, but it was controlled and intentional. Now and then the choir director, Mary Lou Moran, whose voice could reach into the heavens, would sing an anthem that would bring us all to tears. And on Easter Sunday, high school trumpet players joined us in their annual rendering of "God of Our Fathers."
My Episcopalian self is a conflicted self. While I've never been happier with my fellow churchgoers, the activities, education and abundant ministries of the Episcopal Church, it saddens me to no end that Episcopalians just don't sing.
I don't mean they don't have any music in their services. They sing their Kyrie Eleisons and cantor their psalms on one long note, which has been known to reduce me and my son to giggles. There is a hymnal in the pew rack, and if you look hard enough, you might be able to find "What a Friend We Have in Jesus," but it will be a cold and wicked Sunday when the cradle Episcopalians belt it out. Good, heart-felt singing is simply not encouraged.
That's why I like gospel singing. I may not have the voice of an angel, but there's nothing I like better than digging deep down in my soul where gospel music lives and singing with loud and heart-felt words.
I knew when we stepped into the New Beginning Church at the American Children's Home that there'd be very little Episcopalianism going on this afternoon.
Leaning against the choir loft behind the altar were three electric guitars, a drum set, at least two microphones and a large amp and sound control board.
It turns out that a visiting minister - Johnny Johnson, a former pastor at New Beginning - was bass guitar player for the group called One Cause. Lead singer was his wife. His 18-year-old son was on drums, and a good friend with strong tenor voice played lead guitar. The minister of the New Beginning Church sat behind them and controlled the sound board.
After a welcome and a prayer, they began. Julie and I didn't know the first song, but everybody else did, and they sang along, waving their hands in the air, and sometimes standing up, swaying and clapping.
It was a rousing crowd, though a small one. Pretty soon, after a few verses of any song, even Julie and I had picked up the chorus and were singing and clapping along. It was all so terribly unEpiscopalian.
Then the minister introduced a special group that would perform a couple of dance numbers. The group, called Anointed Vessel, was made up of five middle and high school students, members of First Baptist Church on Village Drive in Lexington. They were a mime troupe, their faces painted half white on their dark skin.
The music began. The first song was the story of a man who had lost his way, and his friends were there to help him. And help they did, through dips and swirls in their black choir robes, through emotion-driven solos in the aisle and group choreography at the altar.
We loved them. Everybody did. We whooped and hollered.
Their second number was about a man named John who went to a church that didn't allow praise worship inside its walls - no singing, no dancing, no clapping, cheering or "amens." Church members sent a committee to John's house to explain to him that he could not do that in their church anymore, but, of course, John won them over.
Julie and I loved it. We recognized ourselves and our staid Sunday morning crowd. We cheered, clapped, hooted and hollered, and it felt good.
Sunday's program was a benefit for Pastor's Pantry, which feeds a growing number of elderly in our community. The congregation dug deep in their pockets and made generous contributions.
New Beginning Church will hold benefits for various charities around the area for the next several months. They're open to the public, and the public- trust me - feels very welcome.
Go. Plan on doing a lot of clapping and singing. Your soul will thank you.
Barbara Presnell is a poet and teacher of writing who lives in Lexington. Contact her at www.barbarapresnell.com.
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