A Place at the Table
I stepped inside a church today after a while. It was the 26th anniversary of the Old Joes’ choir and they invited me to join their thanksgiving mass. I drove past the church – got late figuring out where to park and I could hear the wonderful strains of Guide Me O Thou Great Redeemer – an all time fav. It sounded lovely.
I walked in and sat inside. Not many looked as to why I walked in late and I relished that. I hate the judgment of the pseudo pious. The singing was beautiful – I had forgotten how lovely it was to listen to such good singing and to sing along.
My faith has been one of spiritual fulfilment and understanding – monotheistic clinging on to ritual put me off after about 30 years of being a stalwart of the church. Today, I remembered why music was always my happy place, why it made my spirit soar and kept my soul at ease. It was my reminder that prayer need not be recited words. It can be tuneful music and heartfelt singing and just being in that presence. It reminded me of what God or spirit or energy can do if one strips it of the shackles of human frailty packaged in layers of fluff.
Today there was just pure joy, soul and freedom. I almost teared up singing some of those hymns which I know by heart.
I also loved the St. Joseph’s College chapel whose central cupola reminded me of a Byzantine temple I saw in Turkiye which is now a mosque. This has 4 saints looking down – St. Joseph, St. Peter, St. Paul & St. John and winged angels from the further corners. The priest explained how each of the saints had a school founded in their name – a reminder that our task is not of self improvement alone but to serve others. I loved the centre piece on top which looked like Superman’s spaceship embedded into the centre – almost a portal to the heavens with gold stars scattered around. I loved how the music resonated and the voices almost hauntingly drew me into its depths. I felt welcome and at peace.
I chose to receive communion because it felt right. I usually don’t because I don’t like the pretensions of the pseudo pious and pompous priests who think adhering to rituals equates being god-like.
I saw some people who reminded me of how the table was never welcome for me unless on their terms. But today, I felt I had a place at the table, thanks to the Old Joes’ Choir.
Thank you for the music. Possibly one of the greatest expressions of creativity and humanity.
