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Church of the River

August 30, 2017 / 0 Comments

August 29, 2017

I went to a Unitarian service with Natalie a week ago.  Religion in the south is a different creature than it is in the north.  Religious speak pops into regular conversation regardless of the denomination.  As a Catholic from a a NYC Jesuit parish, that was chosen for it’s liberal point of view, the southern sensibility baffles me.

Switching back to a Catholic school amplifies the perspective.  As a public school teacher in NJ I hoped a provided an example although I often wondered what my students valued.

St. Francis Xavier is 160+ year old gothic structure squeezed in among its neighbors while providing relevant, and meaningful witness of the gospel being with their universal message, All Are Welcome.   Xaviers’ means it.

The Church of the River made me think more of a theater than a church.  It has terrific stadium seating that would put Clifton Commons to shame.  The movie screen is replaced by floor to ceiling windows on the Mississippi.

A Unitarian service has readings but not necessarily from the Bible. The minister was well spoken and the music was good.  For much of my life, church was much like oatmeal-it did the filling but not very tasty.  Xaviers raised the bar but then the Jesuits are a cut above.   Where else does the the congregation applaud a homily and everyone gets in touch with their inner Baptist with John Uhlein’s terrific music, choir and bell choir.

The windows on the Mississippi showcase the fullest of nature.  Rabbits and foxes are often in view-not in pursuit of each other.  A tug boat pushed an empty barge down the river.  The wake rippled and rippled and rippled.  It was peaceful and spiritual.

The knoll below the windows flowed and rolled from several different angles to the ravine below.  Tucked in the crease was an egg.

When I stood with the congregation in this idyllic setting of greenery and flowing river the oval whiteness glowed. I’m a city kid so I can’t tell you what kind of egg. Maybe it wasn’t an egg but a rock or a Mc Donald’s wrapper.

I say that Sunday morning it was an egg. New life like my adventure here in Memphis.  It made me think of Fr. Joe Constantino celebrating Mass. At the breaking of the bread, he would say: “believe what you see, see who you are, the Body and Blood of Christ.”

 

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