Learning the Word and Other Murmurings

I grabbed a program this morning, not when I ran in the door late, but at the last minute, on the way up to the altar for communion. I don’t really need the prayer book because whatever responses I don’t know off the top of my head are usually pretty easy to read on Patricia’s lips. But if I do go by the book, I always have to look up the Eucharist—though it’s pretty much always on page 369. (The Nicene Creed is page 358, Prayers for the People start around page 383.) The prayer after communion, “Eternal God, Heavenly Father, you have graciously accepted us . . .” is committed to memory, as is the Confession of Sins.

Anyway, a couple of Sundays ago, at the altar for communion during the 8:30 service, I was standing beside Lucy Kaltenbach, a regular service person. Things go a little differently in the early service and she hadn’t brought her prayer book to the altar. I actually had brought a book and was thinking of pushing it over so she could read the responses off the page rather than Patricia’s lips, when Renee Kastanakis, standing on Lucy’s left, beat me to the punch.

After the service, I felt compelled to go to this woman, who I don’t think I’ve ever had a conversation with, and apologize. There’s just something about the Episcopal service, it’s one of the most beautiful yet one of the easiest to find yourself lost. I told Lucy about bringing my little nephew, Candler, to church, how he swung on the altar rail like it was a jungle gym during communion, and how when the congregation recited the regular, pat responses, he joined in with, “murr, murr, murr, murr, murr”, what he was certain we were saying.

Here now this morning, I thought about Candler as I watched little Grant Witczak in his green shirt with the thin, white stripes and little boy tennis shoes with the Velcro straps, wiggling at the altar. Precious. I don’t know his age but I began to wonder if what Grant heard was similar to what Candler had heard when he visited St. Dunstan’s.

Oddly, that seemed to be the question that Joe Monti was asking us in Sunday School this morning. Joe didn’t directly say, “Are you hearing ‘murr-murr-murr’ or are you hearing ‘Language shapes reality. Words have consequences.’ Or ‘One of the signs of being created in God’s image is our ability to speak. Our words, like God’s word, have creative powers. We create worlds of meaning with our words.’”

Are we coming to church for a pleasant morning out, or is what we hear something that changes the way we view and behave in the world on all of the days of the week that are not Sunday? Are we able to take the opportunities that are presented to us to sometimes repair even a small piece of injustice in the world?

And sometimes the injustices are maybe the ones we create through intolerance, with me anyway. For instance, there’s a woman I work with who drives me nuts. Because I generally feel that I’m in the right, I sometimes say things that could be said in a less direct way. However, this past week I have been more mindful of the sharp words that seem to leap off my tongue wherever this person is concerned. I’m sure her life was more pleasant as a result, though she’ll never know my improved nature was because I actually listened to Patricia’s sermon on the “Evils of the Tongue”, which came through louder than the murmurings.