Faith Infiltration: Zion Methodist

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This weekend, our friend The Alien called me up and asked if we could infiltrate her grandmother’s old Catholic church. Of course we agreed, but then she called later to tell me that the church she wanted to visit had been turned into a Catholic school and no longer had regular services. This is quite unfortunate, because even though Alien is not a Christian, the church was a source of fond memories for her.

We told her to pick a different church, so she chose Zion Methodist, primarily because she remembered that it had caught on fire many years ago. She wanted to see what it looked like on the inside since they rebuilt it.

It was snowing, and when Flimsy and I entered the church we were greeted by about six people million about in the lobby. They noticed immediately that we were new, and said hello and offered us cookies. After the usual handshakes, they stood near us akwardly. I realized that we were actually half an hour early for the service.

Flimsy and I walked around and ended up sitting on a pew in the lobby overlooking a sizable LCD TV with a slideshow of the Church’s happenings and community activities. This got me thinking about how my community of kindred-thinkers is so much smaller than any church congregation – when you belong to a church, you’ve got this huge family and nice fellowship, and the people you know are more than willing to shoulder the burden of your life should you fall onto hard times. I love my atheists meetup and don’t doubt that most of the members would do the same, but I’ll admit that community service by our group is nothing compared to any church.

 While we sat, the pastor approached us wearing a colorful stole with handprints all over it – a gift from the Sunday school. He asked why we were here, and so I was honest – we go to a different church each week and then blog about it. He wanted us each a mug bearing the Zion logo and said, “Even bloggers – whatever that is – get a mug”.

The Alien arrived, got a mug, and we went into the sanctuary.

The congregation was full and mostly composed of seniors – some even wearing funky looking hearing assistance devices. We were honestly a little out of place, but then again, we’re always out of place in a church. The Alien talked to us about how strange it felt to be in a church again. Obviously, it’s a little ironic that Flimsy and I, flaming atheists, feel more comfortable in church than Alien, who is a pantheist spiritualist. The Alien seemed to enjoy being an “outsider”, throwing me the occasional smirk when we didn’t participate in prayers, singing or ritual responding – though she said she still felt compelled to sing. Music is a powerful force.

I wish I could say that the pastor had something provocative to say during his sermon. Instead, he reminded me of a motivational speaker – motivating his congregation with a feel-good message about Jesus’ love and living life Jesus’ way. It was the kind of message that makes you feel good while you’re hearing it, and good for five minutes after you hear it, but then fades away into obscurity. Several of the members of the congregation talked to use after the sermon, and they spoke very highly of this particular pastor and how good he was. I was kind of unimpressed.