I’ve been watching too much news the last couple of weeks. As a result, I feel the rancor and hatred of the current political situation clinging to me like filth.
I need a bath.
A few days ago, I noticed a banner in front of a church just around the corner from my home. It simply said “Taize Service Tuesday at 7 pm”
I knew Taize was some sort of prayer service, but that’s about all. So this evening, being Tuesday, I decided to go. Actually, I felt compelled to go.
There were only six of us in the tiny chapel: the rector, a guitarist, a reader, me, and two other people. The order of service was elegant in its unpretentiousness: Simple choruses repeated to the soft strum of an acoustic guitar, the light of a hundred candles flickering and dancing on the walls, passages of scripture read in a powerful voice, long periods of silence punctuated by the sound of a gong.
The focus of the readings was on the various names of God. We were instructed to dwell on that theme and let the Spirit take us where He willed.
Singing, silence, listening, silence, gong, praying, breathing, silence, singing, silence, gong, silence, benediction. Amen.
Emerging from the dark womb of the sanctuary, I fell under the blue light of a waxing moon.
Then I realized: I felt… clean.