Sunday, January 17, 2010

A STORY OF TWO CHURCHES AND TWO DOORS



Yesterday I had the delightful task of presiding at the marriage of two young people at the Church of the Epiphany, New York. Not my usual place of worship, I know, but I accepted the invitation of a wonderful family which has supported me in my ministry in Bridgehampton since the first day. Now Epiphany is not one of the two churches to which the title alludes. I am merely setting the scene.

Arriving the previous evening for the rehearsal, and then adjourning to my favorite Italian family restaurant on East 77th Street (non-Facebook readers please try and keep up!) I spent the night in the Union Club and awoke early the following morning. I had a day of what I call "urban hiking" before the 6.00 p.m. wedding, and I took full advantage of that opportunity. My walking and exploring first took me via the tram to Roosevelt Island. I have so much to write about that fascinating place, but for now I will simply mention that my primary destination, urban pilgrimage perhaps, has the much-announced Episcopal Church of the Good Shepherd, an ecumenical parish where the doors were always open to... everyone but me. Locked and bolted, and the person exiting one of the doors, having locked it behind her, would not even stop to talk. So I started my walk around that island, an hour's stroll before the tram...

Back on the mainland (and that's about the only time that Manhattan can justify that title) I just hiked south. Along 1st Avenue. So much to see and hear. Busy, busy, busy. I bought a sandwich, put it in my pocket and hoped I would find a good place to eat it where I could look and see and listen. I did - it was on the bank of the East River at the end of 35th Street. I shared many benches with other hungry people - seagulls, joggers, and staff from the close-by "People's Republic of China Mission to the United Nations."

Three blocks west was a church that I simply had to investigate. Not marked on my map, I walked into the granite courtyard of the Armenian Cathedral of Saint Vartan. I took photographs of the entrance, but have not yet downloaded them. But it does not matter. For minutes I stood and marveled at the bronze doors, and then an entire family arrived, walked up the steps from the sidewalk, and (the father) opened one of the doors. One woman (the mother?) was cradling a baby, and there was a train of other people following. A silver haired woman (a grandmother?) saw me standing there in the courtyard and said, "Come, you must come!" And I followed them into what was a spectacular, candle-lit church. Then the priest greeted me. After polite introduction he hugged me and said that I would be most welcome to stay, but I felt awkward and intrusive, and after shaking the hand of most there, I slipped away - but not before lighting a candle with a prayer...

Two churches and two doors. Two stories. Which do you prefer? I know what I think and feel, but I was there...

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