A Dying Spirit

I can’t say that I’m attached to any one church, because I’ve sung at various churches in my lifetime.

This weekend, a friend of mine visited me at one of these churches.  Our plan was for her to meet me at the church in time to hear me sing, and then we’d visit Mom in rehab and go out to dinner.

Our dinner conversation revolved around our afternoon’s activities — and she started to tell me about the nondenominational church she was attending.  At her church, there would be music and singing at the start, and then the minister would come in and start the “actual service.” 

She really doesn’t care for their music because it’s too loud for her taste, so she makes a point to slip in late — unseen — so, she can miss that part.

But she really, really likes the minister and how genuine and personable he is.  Even though she hasn’t been attending for very long and their congregation is HUGE, the minister greets her as if he has known her for all her life.

This welcoming nature of his makes her feel as if she’s a part of his family… as if he wants her there… as if this is her home and she belongs there.   This feeling makes her want to come back, week after week. 

She contrasted this warmth with the feeling she got from the church in which I sang.

To give you a bit of background:  The way the Mass is set up is that the songleader/choir (which is me for this particular service) will start off by leading the congregation in a gathering hymn, then the priest will lead the congregation in prayer, then the songleader/choir leads the congregation in community prayer/response and then hands the congregation’s attention back over to the priest… and we go back and forth like this throughout the service.

Singing is interspersed throughout the service and not just at the beginning.

My friend commented how she really enjoyed the music and the selections of songs.  She loved the way I sang, and how I lit up the place with my energy.  She enjoyed watching me interact with the congregation and the music director.  It made her happy to watch me because it was clear that I enjoyed what I was doing… and that I wanted to be there. 

She also pointed out that — without realizing it — that very energy spotlights what was lacking in the rest of the service.

Once a song was done and the 76-year-old priest took over, all the light and warmth went away — until I sang again. 

The priest’s monotone tone and mannerisms destroyed whatever was created before him.

He was just going through the motions… with no intent, no conviction… no joy...

It was apparent that he didn’t want to be there. 

Sadly, what she observed was true. 

 

When the presider shows up out of obligation — with no genuine spirit to share — it’s not surprising that the congregation is dwindling down to nothing. 

There’s no mystery why there are no young people in the congregation.  There’s no mystery why there are very few people in their 20s-30s-40s-50s attending. 

There’s no mystery. 

Once the pastor no longer supports his members’ spiritual growth, he loses his purpose and credibility.   Once his members no longer support his church, his church will no longer exist. 

A person with no spirit is nothing

More than a dark, abandoned shell of a person

Just like a church with no people is nothing

More than a dark, abandoned building

The two go hand-in-hand…

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