On Going to Church

I had gotten to the church service a bit earlier than usual this morning, and as I sat there I pondered: what in the world am I doing here today? For one thing, it was the early (8:00 am) service, certainly not the inspirational highlight of my week. For another, everyone else in the family, which this week would include not only Ann but also daughter Jennifer and husband and three children, was at home in their pajamas with a second or third cup of coffee, carefully reading the Sunday paper, or quietly watching the cartoon channel.

Yet I had, of my own volition, gotten up, dressed, and driven to St. James. (Ann had wanted to come, but needed to stay home to supervise breakfast and the other needs of the visitors.) Whatever in the world for, I thought? Oh, I'm familiar with all the usual answers: to reconnect with old friends, to experience a conscious contact with the God of my understanding, to fulfill a sense of obligation, and so forth. They're all true, and to a greater or lesser degree they're all operative, but I sensed there was something more.

The longer I sat there in our usual pew #79, the reason began to slowly evolve, and I realized how uncomplicated it actually was: I simply wanted to be there. It was where I belonged this morning. (Maybe the absence of Ann, who usually sits beside me, made that realization more specific.) Even before the tower bell tolled eight and the service began, it was clear: I didn't have to be there, I didn't need to be there, I only wanted to be there.

The view from our pew (when I say "ours", I mean the one we usually sit in unless someone else gets there first) offers several special features, but chief among them is the view of the byplay between the arches that decorate and support the interior. There are quite literally dozens of them, and during moments when I need to rest my brain from the liturgy and/or sermon, I try to count them, but there are too many. They flow so smoothly and easily, sometimes overlapping and sometimes even seem to be moving from one to another. (I've tried to upload a picture of this scene, but so far no success.)

It's a lovely sight, a magnificent experience, one I've known for many years, and I just wanted to renew that acquaintance again this morning. I'm quite sure, of course, that God is somewhere in all this, but I need not name the name to explain my presence today. Rather I'll sit amid the arches and know that here is where I belong this morning.