Church

I went to church yesterday morning.

I was nervous about going, in case they would be friendly. Relentlessly friendly. Friendly in the most threatening and tiresome way. But they weren't.

I got through the time saying 4 words in total, to 4 different people. I should have said 5 words, but I think I missed one in my haste to say another one.

It seemed to be a very traditional sort of church, which wasn't quite in a traditional building (although it tried its best to look traditional for the occasion). Before the service began, the organist seemed to be tapping gently and noiselessly at some keys - as if he wasn't very good, and didn't want anyone to hear him make any mistakes.

But when the meeting started, he leapt into life with the enthusiasm of the Phantom himself. He started blasting out the sort of complex classical music where you think every few bars that it must surely have gone horribly wrong (and at least one of his hands is blindly smashing at the instrument), but he continued with such confidence and consistency that I decided that it must be how it's supposed to sound, and he was really incredibly good.

He continued to be good throughout the communal singing, although the congregation themselves weren't much good. There was a clear difference in ability between the organist and the rest of us, and he wasn't going to hold back for us and we weren't going to make any effort to keep up with him. Sometimes the words fitted, but mostly they didn't. If we ever happened to stop at the same time, it can purely have been coincidence.

We stayed seated for singing, but stood up for praying and the reading of the Parable of the Lost Sheep. We stayed seated for the Parable of the Lost Son, since I suppose that it is a less important story. Or else it's just a longer story, and they doubted we'd make it through standing up. Which is quite possible. The congregation was quite a wrinkly group of people.

The minister wore a long black gown, with little white bits poking out at the top, and spoke loudly but slowly. He also sang. Quite often and, as far as I was concerned, randomly. There were moments when he sang a line, and everyone else (who wasn't me) sang something back to him. Sometimes it was in the song book. Sometimes it didn't seem to be.

So that was church. There was none of that crazy and interesting German theology that I was hoping for, or at least I didn't really notice any. It was mostly just rather formal and normal. The sermon was looking at the story of the lost son from the father's point of view, but I had to really concentrate to understand anything and I kept realising that I had zoned out for the last while and so I only caught bits and pieces. So I think that's all I can really say about it, and I'll stop now.

I should probably say that it was, in its own way, rather nice. Though I'm not sure if I'll be back much.