Where Prayer Has Been Valid

John Wesley surveys the interior of the Isle of Tiree church

What a difference a year makes! This time last year, I was preaching in the Isle of Tiree's Heylipol parish church (Church of Scotland) where I spent five wonderful weeks. This year, I'm on transition leave, floating in the liminal space between writing a book while living in NC and moving to England where I'll be serving three churches.  Since I'm not preaching and preparing worship services right now, I've mostly been worshiping online with Hanscom Park UMC and their pastor, my friend Chris, and their summer intern, Peter. It's been remarkably soothing to fall into a rhythm of watching and commenting on Facebook Live along with the regular congregants as well as with others joining from afar. The sermons have been well-exegeted and delivered, the worshipers engaged, and the music beautiful. I've felt welcomed and included, and it's been a time of spiritual nourishment.

But I miss being physically in church. I miss the smell of old wood, the stifled giggles of children, the heft of the hymnal in my hand, the flicker of candles, the rustle of bulletins, the smiles during the passing of the peace, the solidity of the pews. I miss standing before the congregation in my robe with my stole slightly swaying, my sermon spilling out of a manila folder, my fingers lightly curled on the pulpit or Bible. I miss the expectant hush before the choir sings the anthem, the squeak of the ushers' shoes as they take the offering plates from my hands, the harmonies arising from the throats of the congregation as we join in the strains of "Love Divine, All Loves Excelling." I miss the knees bent on soft velvet, the bowed heads and the hands lifted and cupped to receive the bread. I miss speaking the words, "The body of Christ, broken for you. The blood of Christ, shed for you" as we share the sacrament. I miss the multi-sensory experience of "church."

We've gone out of our way during this pandemic to remind ourselves that the Church is not confined to bricks and mortar, that its reach extends into the highways and byways, that the Body of Christ is composed of our flesh and blood. And rightfully so. The Church gathered must also be the Church scattered, sharing the good news in concrete ways, especially among the least, the last, and the lost.

And yet. 

Though God is present everywhere and we can pray anywhere we are, there's no denying the importance of having a physical gathering place, a space to play instruments and sing, a shelter from which to share fellowship, communion, and other more earthly resources.  John Wesley was quick to realize the value of having dedicated spaces for Methodists to gather together, establishing the New Room in Bristol early in the revival. He would, I think, have understood the feeling expressed by T.S. Eliot --

You are not here to verify, 

Instruct yourself, or inform curiosity 

Or carry report. You are here to kneel 

Where prayer has been valid. And prayer is more 

Than an order of words, the conscious occupation 

Of the praying mind, or the sound of the voice praying. 

And what the dead had no speech for, when living, 

They can tell you, being dead: the communication 

Of the dead is tongued with fire beyond the language of the living. ~ (from "Little Gidding)

Understanding the current need for distancing and taking careful risk assessments, the necessity of masks and for now, no singing, I still feel a pang of loss, a yearning to be able to kneel with others once again in those hallowed places where prayer has been valid. Hopefully within a few days I will receive word about my visa and can travel to Watford to begin to serve three very different churches. May we together discern how and when to reopen the church buildings, carefully and cautiously, yet joyfully anticipating being able to physically kneel together where prayer has been valid. May we always be alert to the leading of the Holy Spirit as Christ calls us to be the Church within and beyond the four walls of our buildings. O, Lord, may it be so!