Something to Learn

A few weeks ago I got to go to Church of the Apostles (COTA) in Fremont, Seattle, on my visitation, actually on Pentecost. I always love going to COTA for its creativity, and the fact that it is a place that truly draws many who have been wounded by the church and are trying to find their way back, and it is a place filled with joy, so a good place for just that. I like it too, because as the traditional guy in the purple shirt, which in this world is getting odder and odder and is also getting more suspect, here I am even more of an odd ball. While I am treated with great respect, there is a refreshing air of equality and simple, and uncensored indifference to the "bishop being present." I bring that up only to say, if you have never been there, you ought to give it a go, if you are an "in church" person, or not, visit.

So, on this Pentecost Sunday, the day we celebrate the "birthday of the church" when tongues of fire came down on the gathered disciples and the Holy Spirit was said to descend and infill those present so as to move the Body of Christ into its new, more cosmic, pervasive, and shared reality, I had the tremendous privilege of spending it at COTA.

Even here, I do something that I have been doing wherever I can do it, on my visitations, and that is immediately after the service ends, I head out the door, to stand on the street. If I am vested, I stand there in my vestments, if I am not, I don't. On this Sunday, I was not. I had a collar and my purple shirt on but no ornate vestments, and I walked out on the front porch of the church, which is across the street from Burger shop and a coffee shop. It is a rather busy intersection. While my wife and I stood out there, with most other members inside, a couple came down to the bottom of the long stairs and looked up, and shouted, "hey, what is going on up there?" And I said, "hey, come on up and find out!" And they did! And my wife and I introduced ourselves to them, and they did the same for us, and they told us they lived about two blocks from the church and had always walked by it but wondered what it was, and what it did. They laughed and said, we just had two margaritas and so we have the courage to come in today.

"The courage." WE should not miss that. So, Ivar, the Pastor at COTA was introduced to them, and they toured the building and met some people, and said they might come back.

I don't know if they did or will, but I think of them often. I think of what they said, "so we had the courage today." We should not lose that. Some of the sordid history of the church, of how we have shared our story, our purpose, our intent in the world has left so many frightened. Though interested, they have to "muster up courage" to come in. This same conversation, as I stand outside the church walls in my identifying collar has happened over and over, in Darrington, in Burien, at St. Mark's Cathedral. People asking, so what is going on in there? And I ask if they want to go in and look, and they say they do. That interaction, and that little bit of movement, deserves our attention. The dismissal, "Let us go forth into the world rejoicing in the power of the Spirit." (which I have called the Great Beginning) is calling us out the doors. Maybe we ought to do it, right away, go out, outside,... the doors, and stand there and greet the world that is walking by. Maybe we should move the altar out there once in a while, and hold our services on the front porch? We would take one small, or actually for many, large barrier away. I am going to keep doing it, and see what happens, because I don't just have something to share, I have something to learn.

Bishop Greg