Stick in the Mud

My mom, aunt, grandmother, and I went to the 7 o'clock mass for the first time in three weeks today. It's been changed, revamped in a way that weirds me out a bit. I knew it was coming (they've been talking about revamping the evening "Come As You Are" service since the beginning of Lent), but I really didn't expect what I found when I stepped through the doors.

I like "Come As You Are" because, well, it's come as you are. When I first started going to my church I only went to the 11 AM service; 11AM had the more formal RC-like ceremony and the full choir/organ musical treatment. As I found myself getting tired of having to wake up early and dress up to trek out to midtown I started going to the dressed-down mass. It was quaint in an unpretentious way: musical accompaniment was by guitar, most everyone was dressed in jeans and/or sneakers, and the space used was more intimate even though service was held in the massive main area. Sure the singer tended to be overly dramatic at times (there were many a'evening after an overly embellished phrase when I wanted to point him a couple of blocks west to 42nd and Broadway) but most everyone else joined in and it was just like an impromptu gathering of the faithful. A couple of months ago they replaced the singer with an Asian woman who just doesn't do it for me. Then they went from guitar accompaniment to piano. Not the same. The woman is tons more formal in her delivery than the gent was and the piano sounds really loud and overpowering, completely killing the mood I enjoyed so much.

So now, fastforward to today. We walked from the parking garage to the church and on turning the block to the front of the church we saw four figures standing on the steps greeting the parishioners, three dressed in black robes and one dressed in white. We all of us stood there with more than a touch of shock and apprehension, and I added the necessary "whoa". Usually for the evening service the servers and priest don't dress up. I'd gotten used to seeing Reverend Tully and Co. in their plaid shirts or woolen sweaters and khakis, and so the stunning visual we were slapped with made me want to turn around and go back to the car (a funny bit, though - I was in the middle of a Good Omens tale when I left home so the black/white imagery got me thinking about Aziraphale and Crowley. I would have chortled if I hadn't been thrown off my equilibrium). I vocalized as much but my folks ignored me and we went on (the reverend was the woman in the white robes, while the rest of the pastors and altar helpers wore black...it still strikes me as weird, dammit).

We went it and met "EMERGE". Emerge, that's what they decided to call the evening service now. My nose was hit first - sandalwood incense cut with something a little more pungent. It was comforting and familiar as it's the same mix my old RC church used to use. Then I caught the music, this New Age-y synth keyboard thing that made me roll my eyes. They were going for ambiance and I suppose it worked, but it's the kind of ambiance that makes me want to upchuck. I don't think I can describe it properly: think Enya light. Not that I usually mind Enya, but not when I'm trying to relax in church. Then, the kicker - the people around the altar (the altar! they added one in front of the steps leading to the main altar area) cleared away and I got to see a projection screen in front of the back vestibule. A projection screen, and they were showing various images on it. Religious images, yes, but...! It reminded me forcibly of a presentation I'd seen on Friday, where this guy bowled us over with his use of multimedia during the course of his well-prepared speech. In church, though?

Fine. I took all that in and sat, ready to get my worship on. For me it's more a matter of sinking into the surroundings and centering myself rather than an active thing, though, and I found that impossible with all the instruments and background noise...there was a ukelele. A ukelele. Fine, the gentleman who played the ukelele looked vaguely like Orlando Bloom but...a ukelele? The Gospel was delivered chant-style by a lovely young priest-in-training who couldn't sing to save her life. It was painful. And the synth keyboard would not stop. There were also bongos and a piccolo. A piccolo. When I heard the first note from the piccolo during the Communion Hymn I didn't know whether I wanted to fall over laughing or break into sobs. And the images wouldn't stop. At one point there was a picture of a handsome young man from the waist up naked with blue-green bead necklace reminiscent of Jin's wrist wear that completely threw me. Like "whaaaaaaaaat?" It was goddamned sensory overload.

I'm a creature of habit. I like things to change either gradually or on my terms. All my bitching aside I think I might be able to take to the new revamped evening service. Maybe.

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My television seems to have pulled a Jesus. It wouldn't turn on this morning and now it's working fine. I think I would have preferred if it stayed dead, to be honest. At least until the 12th.

Tomorrow's my last clinical for this semester. It's a shame I'll have to stay up late to finish the work for it, but why stop a horrible pattern so far into things?

I miss Krishna. A couple of days ago I re-read an entry where I mentioned her and it tugged at a place I'd forgotten I had.

I can't believe it's the first of May already. How the time flies.