Third Week of Sabbatical: in Which the Pentecostal Preacher Lady Goes to Evensong and Holy Eucharist at the Episcopal Chapel

With apologies in advance to any Anglican readers, here is my account of a visit to chapel at the Nashotah House Episcopalian Seminary. The campus is beautiful. Nestled in ancient oaks and other trees are lovely old stone buildings, connected by pathways. The seminary is only about a mile from the retreat center, so one afternoon I decided to attend evensong with one of the other guests who is an Episcopalian priest. We walked to the chapel, arriving early enough to listen to the organist practice.

The chapel is a work of art. The altar is a wonder of carved wood, as is most of the rest of the chapel. There are several stained glass windows. This one is of St. Luke.

The ringing of an enormous bell called us to worship. The seminarians sit facing each other, perpendicular to the altar in small carved "cubicles." Behind an elaborately carved railing are chairs, placed facing the altar.

I was told beforehand that Nashotah House is the most "Anglo Catholic" of the Episcopal seminaries, so I was prepared for a "high church" experience. The forty or so students processed down the aisle in white cassocks, preceded by their professors who were in full regalia. The liturgy and the Psalm were all chanted. The only spoken part of the service was the scripture readings. I felt blessed to have happened upon the worship service that was sung, as they alternate between sung liturgy and spoken liturgy. I, of course, fumbled with the hymnal and the various portions of the prayerbook--I enjoyed worship more when I just listened.

The atmosphere was serenely peaceful, and as I sat in the beautiful surroundings I relaxed and chanted the parts I knew. At the close of the service I heard flap flap flappity flap flap as the students processed past to the exit. Looking down, I couldn't help but grin at the jeans, bare toes and flip flops peeking out from the hem of a cassock.

Walking back, I asked questions of my fellow retreat guest, like why do almost all Episcopalian churches have red doors (it is symbolic of the blood of Christ and of the fire of the Holy Spirit), which side is the gospel side (right) and which the epistle side (left), and other weighty theological matters. :-)

This is a side altar.

A couple of days later I awoke early, so I attended the 8 a.m. Service of Holy Eucharist. This time the student cassocks were black, and the faint aroma of incense filled the air. Something happened to me during that service that I cannot explain.

The presence of God was very real to me, as I again decided to largely forgo the prayer book, except for when the friendly young priest seated behind me helped me out. The mostly male voices singing the Kyrie were so beautiful that tears came to my eyes. And the tears stayed. I found myself quietly weeping through much of the service, and when the elements of bread and wine were blessed I felt a deep sense of wonder. I assumed that I would not be welcome to partake, and a great longing arose in my heart. I was pondering, "Do I just go up anyway, do I stand here and weep and watch others, do I....?" Then the friendly young priest behind me asked if I wanted to share in the eucharist, and when I wondered if it would be acceptable, he asked, "Are you a baptized Christian?" That was it. Such relief....I wondered why it was that I particularly wanted to share the bread and cup on this morning.

I liked the beauty of my surroundings, the reverence, the cassocks and the vestments, the pipe organ, the bell, the chanting, and even the sense of continuity and pattern. I didn't like the division of the chapel (which felt to me like a fence keeping us separated from the seminarians and the priests), the difficulty with knowing what was next, and trying to find the pages fast enough, the awareness that nothing but nothing would alter the form of the service. Even God? Was there room for the Holy Spirit to do something unexpected? I wondered how I would feel if I had never been to church before. Totally confused, wondering what what happening...Still...the presence of God was with me.

At the close of the service, the professors, priests and seminarians processed out, as before. Everyone left. Except me. I sat in the darkened little chapel and the tears fell, and I wondered why.