The Echoes

Dear Friends,

It's my earliest memory of church -- the echoes of those old southern hymns bouncing around the cinder-block building. I'd probably not agree with much of their theology these days. I'd quibble with their vision of God, and I'd find myself at odds with the relentless focus on "the sweet by and by." But I couldn't deny the power of the music. We didn't use instruments in the Church of Christ, but that didn't matter. The angry preacher sang a beautiful tenor, his gentler father carried the baseline, and his sister added her soaring alto. We all just followed along after them, and it was glorious.

The echoes of the church -- the building, I mean -- still fascinate me. I think of a Eucharist I participated in after a traumatic national event. I was giving out communion, fighting back tears over the latest senseless tragedy. And for a moment the music stopped, and it was just my voice, echoing through the cavernous neo-Gothic structure. "The body of Christ, the bread of heaven." My own feeble voice amplified by the church, somehow making the real presence of Christ in the bread almost more real.

One of my favorite things that happens in a church building is when a young child realizes what the space does to her voice. She sings out, "ah..." and hears it bounce around the place, louder than it should be. And she continues. Usually helping us through a boring part of the sermon, with her repeated "ah"s. The building itself, the way it changes and enhances her voice, is a delight to her (and to this preacher, anyway)!

There's something about what a church building does to sound. How it takes our voices, our collective voices in song and prayer or even our individual voices, and amplifies them, changes them, gives them a depth and power we didn't realize they had. It's a metaphor for what the church (and here I don't mean the building) can do with our gifts, with what we have to offer.

By the grace of God, we are called to do and be more. More than we could ask or imagine. But you must give your voice for that to happen. You must make your offering. You must risk using your talents. You have them. They are there. Do not waste them. So lift your voices, friends, and watch with wonder what God does.

God bless,

Fr. Quinn+

[Photo by David Beale on Unsplash]