Yesterday, my family and I made our yearly pilgrimage to church. This time we were at a candle light service at St. Andrew's Presbyterian Church in Marin City. We chose it because we knew that it was Anne Lamott's church and that it was multiracial and multicultural. The last two elements would fit nicely with our family. Plus, the minister is a sister.
Thirty minutes before the service began, I drove like a bat out of hell, trying to beat the traffic (which there was none) and parishioners who would be lined up down the block to get into the Marin City church. As we pulled into the parking lot, across the way from the Outback Steakhouse, where we have spent a good deal of our dining out time since we arrived back in the Bay Area, we noticed very few cars in the parking lot. Including our own car, there were only three families who had arrived. One very friendly-faced African American woman waved to us as I turned off the Christmas carols and the car.
I wasn't mistaken, there was no one at the church--twenty minutes before the service was to start!! This was different than going to my mother's church, Trinity UCC in Chicago. There we had to get to church at least an hour before the service was to begin just to get a decent enough seat somewhere within one hundred feet of the altar. Even as we waited outside of the narthex to get into the church building and the sanctuary itself, we noticed the small worship space--intimate, let's say. Also, the candles that were on gold foil that stretched out in front of the lectern, roughly 4'X12'. The building itself held about 170 seats artfully placed around the central speaking area.
I must say the the modest size of the church and the few people that trickled into the sanctuary--either given candles with drip catchers or flashlights--took some getting used to. No one asked us for money the entire time, and people seemed generally interested in us as humans. As in so many multiracial places, the majority of the folks looked "white."
We sang carols and listened to bible verses read by what I presume were the elders of the church. I did have to speak with my son a few times to get him to behave (stand-up to sing--sit-down to listen to a reading--over and over again). Without understanding the true meaning of Christmas, I told him, there would be no presents the next day. It wasn't an artful threat, but it was what I was feeling at the time.
It all was quite wonderful as it turns out in a "give love on Christmas Day" sort of way. It felt like school rather than church, which always put me at ease. I appreciated every moment of it. I must admit that I didn't quite feel the spirit inside the church, but we will go back.
Every day and in every way, education extends to every aspect of our lives. Whether it's re-inventing traditions or co-creating community wherever we are, living in Open Source communities means coming as you are.
