The holiness of the day

I often forget how majestic God is. Unless I am looking at a breathtaking, awe-full scene in nature, I don't tend to view the Omnipotent Being as just that. While Jesus sits among us, and the Holy Spirit moves within us and through us, I often forget that the loveliness of the Divine – the beauty of Yahweh – dwells over us and around us.

This morning we went with Pastor Russell to The Parish of Saint Mary's Catholic Church in Pietermaritzburg. (Pastor Russell is working on his master's and wanted to sample our responses to the Catholic Mass).
And as I was sitting with the few people that came out on a Friday morning for mass, I couldn't help but think of how beautiful everything was. Growing up in Mennonite churches, I found myself this morning transfixed on the elaborate alter and stain glass windows. I know that beautiful designs do not make something divine but I couldn't get away from this overwhelming feeling of holiness. What was interesting was that I couldn't even hear all the liturgy (since the mic wasn't very loud), but it seemed to be lingering in the air.

I've been rather intrigued with Catholicism ever since I got back from Israel/Palestine. Not that I would ever leave the Mennonite church, but nevertheless, it is still really interesting. During that cross-cultural trip, we went to a lot of Catholic and Orthodox churches. Even though some of the experiences in those church were rather frustrating (because of commercialism and the ridiculous human behavior of tons of tourists), the smell of incense lingering in the air always stirs up something in my heart. I know I am being rather nostalgic but I also know that I met God in some of those churches – commercialized or not – especially when the group of Mennonite students I was with sang hymn after hymn, lifting up our vocal offering to God. It sounded like holiness.

Lately, I've had a lot of church experiences that are so different from each other – from the welcoming embrace of JPUSA to the Spirit filled services of BCI. And now the Catholic Mass. The God I've met at all these traditions looks, acts, sounds, smells, tastes completely different. Yet God is. And God is the same in Chicago as God is in Pietermaritzburg. Seeing different sides of God that I am not familiar with is a huge  challenge. The God I see here at BCI is so different. Often, I feel estranged from this God – like an outsider rather than a beloved daughter. I am not really sure how to handle that right now.

But today I saw the holiness of God the father in the stillness of the service at Saint Mary's (which is quite a change from the thundering service of BCI). It made my heart beat in a new way, if only for a moment.

I am glad that God can also be found in the stillness. Stillness is far from anything I've experienced in South Africa up until today. We are crazy busy all the time and there is noise – or sound- everywhere we go. Always. But after mass, I managed to find more moments of stillness and holiness in the rest of my Friday.

The first one came as I was walking back from the church to the manse. While I was making that familiar and frequent trip, I heard the faint cry of the mullah from the nearby Mosque. And as the prayers were cried out, I wanted to join in. Not to Allah – no definitely not. Instead, I wanted to have my prayers carried on the wind. A liturgy for Yahweh that sways throughout the tree branches, causing them to move. An afternoon filled with the sound of holiness and stillness. 

Also, I skipped youth celebration tonight. Yes, I am probably a terrible person because of that. But as I sat in the house – for once completely void of any sound or moment – I felt real peace. Peace that could be anything else but holiness. Finally, a stillness that felt so much like God.

It didn't last very long. As I sit here writing, I can hear the TV from our neighbors on the other side of the Manse. Yet, it was there. And I definitely wouldn't trade these moments of holiness that I've found today for much else.