1. When you walk into an Episcopal Church anywhere in the country, one thing you can be sure of is consistency. Same architecture, same green carpet, same Books of Common Prayer, same choir outfits, same thurifer, same little old ladies in the front row, same female minister. WHAT? IN OXFORD? But yes, there was a woman in alms. I couldn't understand how the parish I attended with my grandmother in QUEENS, still had not progressed forward, but in Mississippi there was a female Reverend... and no one blinked. The rest of the service reminded me so much of Grace Church that I was shocked when the lector read with a Southern accent. "In the Nayme of the Lawd." Another difference... the pews were packed. Shoulder to shoulder, I waited for the Jonas Brothers to walk out. They didn't. But when people sang, I believe God could hear it. I found myself observing like an anthropologist and missing the spiritual mark. Too many people, too much ritual, too much distraction. No one welcoming me to coffee hour or asking my name. They didn't need to. They had the members. I walked out and thought, this was pointless.
2. Ole Miss Rebels vs. Jacksonville State Gamecocks home opener.
I am not trying to be cute. Football is a religion. It is the openly accepted golden calf. I attended service on Saturday and it was filled with the ritual and fanaticism of any given Sunday. They have tailgating to the extreme. The Grove (a lawn area on the campus) becomes this kind of temporary city, like a refugee camp or a Brazilian favela, only the tents have floral bouquets and chandeliers, and everyone is dressed for the inaugural ball. Men in button downs and dress slacks, girls in cocktail dresses a
nd high heels. They hang out in their fraternity/sorority's tent for a while then they find their parents' tent and spend time with their Mom, Dad, Uncles, Cousins, etc. I cannot think of a college event outside of graduation that I would have spent with my parents. Ever. Much less get drunk with them. However, the University is a cultural center, and at that center is God and Football. Again, the chanting was so loud, Jesus Christ could hear it. He was singing along, "Hotty Toddy, Gosh Almighty." Then they lost to a team they were expected to crush and everyone walked home in complete silence. The praise service suddenly transformed into a JFK-like funeral and all the women looked just as elegantly despondent as Jackie O.
3. Then the Quaker meeting. After a long search on the internet I found the home of the Oxford Meeting of the Religious Society of Friends and attended my first meeting since my wedding. Attendance: me, two elderly women, and two dogs. The dogs somehow knew the meaning of meeting. They were in the middle of barking and playing when one of the women yelled, "MEETING! I SAID MEETING!" and they lied down on the floor and closed their eyes. Well done. An hour of silence, as if I don't have enough silence being alone in this town. But in contrast to the noise of the previous two services, I welcomed the stillness. God might have heard nothing, but I heard everything, and it all bounced around inside my head. Afterward I was welcome to talk, eat, and drink coffee. I miss that feeling of home and family, where I could feel free to rinse a cup and put it in the dishwasher. Thank God for the Quakers. My spiritual side feels like at least I am paying attention to it.
Church and football, like I have never experienced before. The young faces with their bibles and the elderly people making announcements. The music of a hundred different genres from the unplugged organ, to the rock band Baptists, to the chanting of a thousand people screaming the fight song. All these different traditions, rituals, and sects of Christianity, and they all have one thing in common: making a lot of noise.
Except the Quakers, who sit in silence.
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