Church of the Advocate: Second Sunday in Advent, 2011
The following is a guest post written by John Hickman of his recent experience at the Church of the Advocate:
Walking past the gaggle of smokers outside the undercroft of Trinity Church in downtown Asheville, I stumble down the steps into a room buzzing with people greeting and enjoying each other. This is truly a church: Not in the sense of a building, but in the original sense of “church”. This church is simply the connected spirit of its members. It could meet anywhere and still be that same church.
This is not to say there are no props and symbols. There’s a cross which brings to mind the sense of the hymn, “The Old Rugged Cross”. It appears to be constructed from gnarly roots bound together with vines and rough twine, reflecting the rugged spirit and condition of many of the people in this room. On the wall is a sign reminding us that we are all gifted, just some of us open our gifts sooner than others.
There is a joyous hubbub in the room. A few are sitting alone in contemplation or out of shyness. Most are greeting and catching up with friends. I feel the love being shared here.
I meet a former paratrooper. His jumping career has left him with the nagging pain of sciatica and nasty looking ankle injury. I muse whether the Airborne Division thinks about him and his retired comrades or whether they are working on ways to make jumping safer. We joke about how absurd it is to jump out of a perfectly stable aircraft.
There’s a bright, ageless man in the corner with few teeth but with a wonderful Mongol hat sporting four tassels. I empathize with his lack of teeth. I’m currently missing two adjacent molars, myself. He rises in place to read one of the lessons. He does it with the strong authority for whom the words are real, present, and not just ancient text to him. His reading rings out!
A loving woman with marvelous posture testifies that her other church is a twelve-step program. She wears an amazing Rastafarian braid coiled over her head and down her back. I imagine the braid could be as long as nine-feet if let fall. She testifies to the power of love. There are bright stars of hope in her eyes.
I tease a deacon about her referring to the Holy Spirit as “she” while she converses with a visiting priest. Both were women. They tease back… “You are among women. What do you expect?”
Another man with little of his own save a beautiful reddish-brown puppy brought the dog with him. I believe that The City of Asheville won’t allow him to tie it out while he worships. Another person brings a cute pug “service dog” and begins to chatter nervously at high speed perhaps to distance herself from the demons that she perceives are following her.
Father Ham Fuller starts the service. The room becomes not quiet, but quieter. He reminds us the God is on our side, and as we truly recognize this, we all become freer. We pray for others. Most of them they know. There was a sister raped yesterday. We pray for her. A car had hit another, who as a child was part of the Cathedral parish. We pray for her. We pray for those in jail. Many in this congregation have been there at one time or another. Now, I have personally known a few people who were sent to prison. But these were greedy people guilty of high crimes. I suspect most of the jail terms meted out to these people result of a desperate need for food or for some substance that might ease the pain of daily existence.
During the service, the smokers and others filter in from the street. If any appear to be uncertain about being there, they are welcomed. The comings and goings of people remind me of a Catholic wedding ceremony I once attended where strangers continuously flowed to and from confession which was held concurrently with the service.
Father Ham stands before the crowd and “teaches” his sermon much as I imagine Jesus might have taught before the crowds. Not in fancy robe, but wearing a collar and an old green cardigan sweater. Since it is the second Sunday in Advent, he reminds us that it wasn’t the advent of Santa Claus that we await but none other than the Christ Child Himself. The first lesson is from Isaiah prophesying the coming of a messenger. The Gospel is about that messenger, John, the Baptizer saying, “Prepare ye the way of the Lord!”
Through dialog with those who wish to participate, Father Ham makes the point that the preparation is to be done by each one of us by searching our souls to exorcise our transgressions against our God and community. Two women, one with a baby in a sling around her neck sing a duet, mostly in thirds and sixths, Prepare ye the way of the Lord from Godspell.
We celebrate the Eucharist. The bread is a huge round loaf; I think a gift from City Bakery. After sanitizing his hands, Father Ham tears off a substantial piece for each of us and personally places it in our hands. The bread is perfect! One can actually chew it while contemplating the mystery of Holy Communion. The “Wine” is actually grape juice prepared by a process invented in 1869 by Thomas Welsh as a non-alcoholic wine intended for Methodist Communion. This was served in individual Dixie cups distributed by young girls from the Holy Cross Church, Tryon. One of the girls has a plastic bag to receive our spent cups.
A lay minister walks among us offering blessings and anointment with holy oil. Is it olive oil? 10-w-30? What? A question for another time. I know this woman, but today she glows with a special love for all of us. She anoints me. I’m remembering the woman who anointed Jesus with precious nard.
The service ends as we confess of our transgressions against God and each other and ask each other and God to forgive us.
Passing the Peace follows the service. After that, lunch, prepared and served by the generous people of the Tryon Church is ready. As one might expect, more people filter in from the street at the last minute, seeking a good hot meal.
The “clothes closet” opens. The line for that was nearly as long as the line for food. Clearly, there is an unmet need at the Church of the Advocate clothes closet.
I depart lifted up by these loving people. I won’t become a regular member, but shall return. Soon!
by John Hickman, December 2011