A friend invited me to her church, St. Paul’s Episcopal on East Avenue, for a late afternoon Sunday service of lessons and carols, and to go out for supper after. We grew to a small group of four, two of whom are members of the church.
Back in the day St. Paul’s was the wealthy Episcopal church in Rochester. The building itself is large, with marble and stained glass and ornate wood carving throughout, and I’m sure very expensive to maintain and heat. Now the community of worship there consists of people of more ordinary means, and they rarely fill the place. Part of the rector’s brief welcome was the announcement that there would be an offering, and he hoped we would be generous.
Advent lessons and carols are bible readings, which were done by church members, interspersed with musical pieces appropriate to the liturgical season. The church has a wonderful organ and choir, and the music was spectacular.
Having been baptized and raised Irish Catholic, I have a context for the words “liturgical season” – even though I haven’t practiced the faith since my early 20’s. I’m not sure my kids have such a context. When Jerry and I discussed what to do about religion after the kids were born, we agreed that neither of us wanted to prepare them in the traditions in which we had been formed: Roman Catholic and Conservative Judaism. Neither of us found our religious upbringing a salutary experience, and we didn’t want to teach what we ourselves had not taken to heart.
Episcopal worship is highly attuned to ritual. It matters that the choir enters two by two, with synchronous steps. When the worshipers stand, sit, or kneel matters – the nuns of my childhood with their famous clickers would be right at home here. The words of the Book of Common Prayer matter, are always the same, and become second nature to the regulars – no shout out to the Lord Jesus expected. Worshipers sing all the verses of every hymn, not just the first three. People still dress to come to church at St. Paul’s. The choir members wear robes. All candles are lit. The rector and two associate priests wear appropriate liturgical garb. In some ways the current Episcopal liturgy, even in a liberal church like St. Paul’s, is closer to the Catholic experience of my childhood than the current Catholic Mass I experience from time to time at funerals.
In the long wooden pews, instead of a common kneeling rail that is flipped down by someone – often with an unfortunate echoing thud – St. Paul’s has individual kneeling pads covered in needlepoint. The church must seat 1200-1500 people, so there are a lot of these blue needlepointed pads, hand-done in some former era by the ladies of the church. Each pad has a different pattern. Displayed rather than knelt upon, they would make a stunning collection of American needle craft.
To matters such as this did my attention wander during the readings. To get something spiritual out, you have to put something spiritual in. It’s been a long time since I’ve breathed that kind of air in the tight enclosure that is church.


