Tags
Christianity, congregation, funeral, holy, memorial service, noise, Peter Berger, sacred, solemn assembly
“Doc, I need to talk to you,” said Ms. Anne Thrope as we worked together during morning rush. “Something bothersome if you understand what I’m saying.”
“Sure,” I said. “We can talk here, or we can talk later in your office.”
“Hang on”—and her vocal volume increased, “Order up! Dirty eggs!” Her voice returned to a more normal level. “I went to a memorial service last week and it reminded me of what I don’t understand about the church.”
“So do you want to talk about death or rituals?” I flipped some bread on the grill and plated another order of dirty eggs.
“Rituals, maybe,” she said, “but basically I find myself wondering why church services are so loud. Not the service, but the gathering time. Maybe a hundred years ago I went with Saroyan to an Armenian funeral. People stood outside and talked, but once they entered the sanctuary, they became quiet–as if they became part of a great silence. Even Saroyan. He admitted that he was a laugher and laughed hard and loud everywhere, but in that sanctuary, even he was quiet. Hang on,” she interrupted herself. “Blueberry bagel with peanut butter on the side, cheddar bagel with onion cream cheese! Pick up!”
She turned back to me, “I liked that silence. It reminded me that there is life and there is death, and we have definite boundaries. So, we hang loose in the silence and the mystery. The great reminder of life and death, I think.
“But this memorial service wasn’t that. No, let me correct myself. The service itself was fine and seemed purposeful. But before it started? I overheard people chatting about baseball scores and dinner and family life and politics—all that while the organ played softly. That church was as loud as this shop during rush hour.”
I signaled a stop and called out, “Hawaii 5-0 to go for Jasmine. Two whole wheat bagels to go for Machiavelli! Jasmine and Machiavelli!” I turned back to Ms. Anne and said, “You remind me of Peter Berger’s book from fifty or so years ago—The Noise of Solemn Assemblies. Noisy solemn assembly might describe congregations today, though little seems solemn. Weddings, funerals, ordinary events—people chatter. What are you going to do?”
“Nothing to do. Just noticing and wondering, and I needed to talk about it. I miss the quiet. You have any suggestions?”
“Go Quaker? You know I left church ministry long ago. I didn’t quite fit the church and I had more in common with it back then. Now?” I said. “Forget it. It’s a different culture that seems far removed from what I read in the Sermon on the Mount. And that’s always my starting place for Christianity. Order up: everything bagel with lox all the way!”
“That’s all I wanted to say. No answers necessary,” she said. “I felt a need to vent. I’ll leave you to finish up.”
I finished the last of morning rush while thinking about the many honest conversations about faith and belief systems I’ve had at the flattop. Many more than during my pastoral years. So it goes.