Faith Assembly of God, 8023 Huebner Rd.
Assembly of God is the world’s largest Pentecostal denomination.
My experience
I arrived at about 8:50 for the 9:00 meeting at Faith Church on the Sunday of Daylight Savings. In the effort to avoid a repeat of last week’s awkwardness, I introduced myself as a visitor to the lady standing at the counter in the foyer area. She handed me a welcome folder that included a one-page monthly newsletter, an explanation of Faith Church’s beliefs, a calendar, a registration card, and a pen. Then she took me down the hall to show me the kids’ room and the snack table (in case you didn’t have time to eat this morning, there is always coffee, donuts, and fruit), and then indicated the pastor’s office—he likes to meet with visitors for a few minutes after the service. (Eek!) She welcomed me and showed me into the chapel area.
The chapel was shaped like a baseball diamond with a raised stage at the front and three areas of pews with two aisles. At the very back was a sound booth. It was quite small—the smallest chapel I’ve been to so far—and it felt intimate. There was a group on the stage playing rock-style worship music, which consisted of drums, a bass guitar, a keyboardist/singer, and four other singers. On the left side of the stage, on the floor facing the left area of pews, there was a woman in a bright red sequined dress moving to the music while waving alternately a red flag, a pale rainbow flag, or a crown on a red velvet and tasseled pillow. She wasn’t performing for anyone in particular, I don’t believe, as she looked off into the distance.
There were only about 8 people in the congregation by 9:00, which I assume this was because of Daylight Savings time—the leaders joked that everyone was still sleeping. I sat in the back, and an older lady who had heard me introduce myself as a visitor on the way in came over and hugged me and welcomed me. As the music continued a few more people trickled in, and by the time the music stopped at about 9:25, there were about 20 people there (eight of whom were probably church leadership).
The music didn’t move me. For one thing I found it much too loud for the intimacy of the room, and aesthetically it didn’t do much for me either. The lyrics weren’t inspirational, and most of the songs had only a few lines repeated over and over for 5 minutes. Usually I like to sing along with the songs (the lyrics were again projected on a screen above the stage), but I couldn’t in good faith get into the music here. One song that I remember in particular repeated these six lines:
Dance with me
O lover of my soul
To the song of all songs
Romance me
O lover of my soul
To the song of all songs
Another song that lasted a good five minutes or more repeated only “How I love you / Hallelujah,” and that was it.
The keyboardist/main vocalist, a larger man, was quite passionate and often exhorted the congregation to sing louder and worship God with music, and by 10 minutes into it he was drenched in sweat.
About 9:05 a small woman whose face looked about 45 but whose body and clothing looked to be 18 came in and set her purse down on the front row and promptly began to dance across the floor from one side of the room to the next. She didn’t stop for the whole half hour of music—this woman had energy like you wouldn’t believe. Her dancing mostly consisted of raising her arms up and down, bowing, and twirling, though at one point she began to work her way up the aisles making a train motion with her arms.
After I had been there just a few minutes, a younger looking man of about 30 came and shook my hand. He asked my name and whether I was in college. No, I told him, my husband is a medical student. He asked, “So what do you do, do you just sort of hang out…” (those may not have been his exact words, but that was the gist I got of it, though he wasn’t trying to be rude). No, I told him again, I’m a graphic designer (which is the simplest way to explain my job, though I feel like it implies too much glamour to be entirely true). “Are you looking for a home church?” Ahh, not really, I said…just visiting. “Well, welcome.” He was nice.
The music seemed to go and go and go, and I was surprised to look down at my watch to find that it was 9:30 when it finally stopped. Pastor Chad, the man who had welcomed me, then took the stage and announced—dynamically, shall we say—that the members of Faith Church were awesome that that last week they had taken up an offering of $12,000. This was met with clapping and cheering from the congregation. Pastor Chad discussed the idea of tithing a little more, and then we watched a short “movie” (it was really just text on a black background with a voiceover) about a woman whose medical bills that she couldn’t afford were miraculously reduced from over $40,000ish to something like $2,000. This, too, was met by claps, cheers, and affirmations from the congregation.
Pastor Chad then introduced Juan and Letty, a married couple gave a little testimony about giving tithing. They have been attending Faith Church since October and had heard the injunctions to pay tithing but didn’t know how they could afford it. “We weren’t living paycheck to paycheck,” Letty said. “It was more like overdraft to overdraft.” Well, Juan soon received an unexpected bonus check of several thousand dollars, and they decided to start paying tithing, even though it didn’t make sense. Now, Letty said, their “bank account looks pretty good.” She explained that her salary hasn’t changed, but they have enough money now. This story was met again by clapping and many an “Amen!”
Pastor Chad then led us in a pre-offering recitation, for which everyone stood and read from the screen. It essentially said, “We believe in jobs, better jobs, benefits, bonuses, surprises, debts paid off, raises, gifts, etc”—and so on through a list of about 30 descriptions of monetary blessing. I found this a little shocking and just watched.
Pastor Chad then prayed—with his eyes open, pacing the stage, almost yelling into the microphone—and then the offering baskets were passed around while some announcements were projected on the screen to the background of a Coldplay instrumental.
Another pastor then took the mic and reminded us that “the blessings of God bring wealth,” and he referred back to Letty: “Letty said earlier that her income hasn’t changed. And I would say, your income hasn’t changed yet!” This was met by amens from the congregation. This pastor gave a few more announcements about programs the church is doing, one of which was the Healing Rooms that are available every Thursday night. Basically, you set an appointment to come in and be healed. The pastor mentioned that last week a 50-year-old woman who had had clubbed feet her entire life came in, and she was “instantly healed.” He didn’t elaborate.
Finally, at about 9:40, Pastor Randy Mask, the senior pastor at Faith Church, took the stage and began his sermon. He preached a loud message about the danger of taking offense, and he went strong until 10:25 or so, and I was getting anxious because I had to leave. Right at the end of his sermon he had us all come together and bless each other. This involved me, the older lady next to me and the lady next to her putting our arms around each other, and the lady in the middle whispering some sort of prayer “Lord just bless these sisters…etc.” As soon as that was over and the musicians were heading back for the stage, I beelined it out of there.
What I got out of it
Though Pastor Randy’s sermon about not getting offended was pretty much spot on, to me the message was lost in the method. Pastor Randy paced the stage, often yelling into the microphone, spewing spit as he went. Though he certainly had an outline, he seemed to ramble. His forceful delivery often hindered his pronunciation and diction, especially when he was reading scripture. The congregation was somewhat involved, offering amens and nodding vigorously—one black woman in particular frequently interjected “Mm hmm, come on” and “come on now, speak it” and such. If the congregation didn’t respond as expected after a certain pulpit-pounding point, Pastor Randy would stop and say, “Hello?” which was answered by amens.
The long message was, in sum, that taking offense is not okay. “We must not let anything blow us up,” was the most-repeated phrase of the sermon. The devil keeps a tally of faults and accusations, but we shouldn’t. “Jesus will never accuse you.” When we agree with devil (by keeping offense tallies), we empower the devil. When we agree with God, we empower God.
When we take offense, it destroys our hearts, we miss opportunities, and we create a judgmental heart. We can’t tell God what we will and will not do and expect to be blessed. Offense distances us from God; God says, “You’ve let an offense come between you and me.” When we let go of hurt, it allows us to feel God’s love. When we lay it down, he will take it up.
Other thoughts
I know very little about Assemblies of God, though I know that Pentecostalism is known for being very…dynamic. Though there was no pulpit (just a music stand), this was pretty much how I had envisioned pulpit-pounding hellfire and damnation.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t amazed at the bold promises of wealth and healing.
Also, I couldn’t help but wonder if the sermon wasn’t a prelude to some more controversial sermon, as one of the points was to “not let it offend you just because you don’t like the message” or just because “you don’t understand it.”
And though I agreed with his main points, it was so loud and in-your-face that I left more wide-eyed than inspired. I was reminded that no matter how good the message is, it’s the Spirit that changes hearts.
March 22, 2009
March 01, 2009
St. Brigid Catholic Parish
St. Brigid Catholic Parish, 6907 Kitchener Rd.
St. Brigid is part of the Archdiocese of San Antonio, which I think is a geographically-based division of the Catholic church.
My experience
My eternal buddy and I arrived about 10 minutes before 12:30 mass on the first Sunday of Lent. I’m always conscious of what everybody else is wearing, and as soon as I noticed that most people were in jeans or similar casual attire, I suggested that Mark take off his suit coat and tie. I try to blend in when I visit these churches (which we will discover later may not be the best choice).
St. Brigid is a huge new building of white stone with an impressive foyer and a large chapel. Just as we were entering, 15 or so people gathered in the foyer were joining hands in circle to say a prayer. Two of the men wore long white robes with purple sashes, and one carried a pole with a crucifix at the top. I pretended to be really interested in some flyers at the side of the foyer so I could watch the circle out of the corner of my eye. They broke up after the end of their prayer and headed into the chapel.
I’m not sure what I expected, but it wasn’t what I saw. The chapel was a large, vaulted octagonal room. The side opposite the entrance had a small choir and a piano, and the other six sides had about 10 rows of pews each. The center of the room was slightly raised, and there was a table on one end (toward the choir), and a small podium, small table, and fountain on the other end. The fountain was more like a gigantic ceramic bowl or planter, just barely full enough that water spilled over all sides. I noticed that everyone entering stopped at the fountain, got their fingers a little wet, and then crossed themselves before finding their seats.
The pews had little padded kneeling benches folded into the pew in front, and many people were kneeling in prayer as we waited for the service to start. The meeting started with some business and welcoming of visitors—I debated whether this would include us, considering the size of the congregation (300 or so people, I would guess). When other visitors’ introductions included the name of the parish they were visiting from, I decided it would be best not to introduce ourselves. That should have tipped me off that trying to blend in with a bunch of Catholics at mass, considering you know nothing about what’s going on, is not a great idea.
During the opening hymn/song (which no one really participated in besides the youth choir, accompanied by a piano, guitar, and flute), a procession of about 15 or so people came across the room carrying the crucifix on the pole that I had seen earlier, as well as a large red and gold book, held high. I assume these were the same people who had been praying in the foyer earlier.
Now, before I go any further with this, a big huge disclaimer: I really know nothing about Catholic liturgy, and it turns out that it’s…involved. And since we were kneeling or standing during a lot of the meeting, my notes are kind of shoddy and there was no way I was going to remember everything that happened and in what order. So. Forgive any errors as I do my best to remember.
One of the white robed men (I think they are bishops. Here we will call them Bishop 1 and Bishop 2) came to the center of the room and welcomed everyone and then led them in a recited confessional.
A teenage girl then read from Genesis (not the KJV, though) from the pulpit in front of the fountain, there was another song, and teenage boy read from 1 Peter from the same pulpit.
At this point Bishop 2 knelt before Bishop 1 (who was seated off to the side of the middle of the room) and received a blessing. Bishop 2 then went to the table toward the choir end of the room and picked up the red and gold book. He held it to his forehead as he walked slowly across the center of the room to the back podium. He opened the book (which I guess was the New Testament) and read from Matthew. At some point the congregation knew it was time to cross themselves, and Bishop 2 raised the open book to his lips, kissed it, walked methodically around the podium to the small table, set the book down, and bowed to it.
He went back around to the podium and gave a brief (maybe 10 minutes) sermon about Jesus being temped by Satan in the wilderness, and how we today can recognize and resist temptation.
After some silence the congregation stood and recited a “profession of faith” that was hugely long (which I later learned was the Nicene Creed). Some people were reading it out of a little paperback book that was in the back of each pew, but many had the whole thing memorized.
Bishop 1 took his place behind the larger table at the front of the room and offered a recited prayer (the refrain of which was “Lord, hear our prayer” and was recited by the congregation). Then the choir (comprised entirely of youth in blue T-shirts, by the way), sang a song as other blue-T-shirt-clad youth passed around the offering baskets.
After the offering, Bishop 2 stood and moved to the middle of the room. Some youth brought a largish basket and a large cup to the bishop, and they bowed to each other. They moved to the large table, which already had 8 small bowls and 8 small chalices set out on it. Bishop 2 brought the basket and the water to the table, where Bishop 1 was waiting.
Disclaimer 2: The administration of the communion/sacrament was a pretty detailed ritual, and I spent most of it on my knees or standing, trying to follow what was going on. I don’t remember all the details, but I do remember some…
Bishop 1 washed his hands in a bowl of water provided by Bishop 2, and then everyone knelt on the kneeling benches. Bishop 1 held his hands hovering over the cup and bowl and chanted (Gregorian style) what I assume was some sort of blessing or prayer over the communion. Then he held up a single round cracker (wafer?) and, holding it up about eye-level, made a full, slow rotation, as if offering it to the whole room. He repeated this with the chalice of water.
After another chant we all stood again and, holding hands (with elbows bent and palms turned up, as if in supplication), everyone recited the Lord’s Prayer. We knelt again as Bishop 1 gave the bread and water to Bishop 2, and then about 15 people or so formed a U around the table and one by one received the communion from Bishop 2, crossed themselves, then were each handed one of the smaller bowls or chalices.
At this point it became clear to me that each person was going to receive the communion (and it didn’t stop at the symbolic rotation of the Bishop, like I had originally thought). Those who had the smaller cups and bowls distributed themselves around the room, and by rows the congregation stood and, in a line, received first a cracker/wafer and then took a sip from the cup. The person giving the wafer raised it to eye level, said “This is the body of Christ” (or something similar), and then the receiver ate it. Between each sip, the cup was wiped with a white cloth (antibacterial? Who knows). Then everyone returned to their seats. (Mark and I debated whether we should go with the flow but neither of us was very comfortable with that. Fortunately a few other people stayed seated, so we followed their lead and just watched.)
The administration of the communion took several minutes, and toward the end the choir sang another song. Some people just sat and others knelt while we all waited for the end of the communion. After some announcements (mostly related to Lent events), we stood again for another prayer. Bishop 1 stood and blessed everyone and again, rotating in a circle after he did so.
Finally, there was a recessional of the cross (similar to the processional at the beginning), where those same 15 or so people removed the crucifix on the pole from the front of the room and proceeded out of the room, joined this time by the bishops. There was another song during this, and after they were done everyone else began to disperse, each dipping again in the water fountain and crossing themselves on the way out.
What I got out of it
The bishop’s sermon (do they call them sermons?) was based on the story of Jesus being tempted in the wilderness, and how that relates to each of us being able to resist temptation. He pointed out that Satan doesn’t tempt us with ugly things, but desirable things that might even be good in another context. Ultimately, he tempts us to “worship at the altar of self and pride,” but following these worldly appetites will not satisfy.
He pointed out that we are not alone as we face temptation—God gave has given the Church, sacraments (which in Catholicism refers to communion, baptism, etc), and each other. He also reminded us that we will not be tempted beyond what we are able to bear. And, in fact, if we recognize temptation for the lie that it is, rejecting it actually leaves us stronger.
The Bishop’s struck me as dramatic and oratorically skillful, but not very spiritual.
Other thoughts
It was very interesting to me that even though the building seemed brand new, the chapel had the same distant austerity that you feel when you visit old cathedrals. It was large, open, and everything echoed. It might be best described by what it was not: warm and cozy. I wonder if that was intentional…?
This is the first church I have visited where I felt awkward and out of place. There was so much ritual involved with the worship experience that it was obvious that trying to blend in was kind of a joke. I wish we had told someone straight up that we were just visiting today, which would have given us license to not participate in some or any of the kneeling, standing, reciting, etc., and hopefully we would have been able to ask questions.
It wasn’t until after the service that we finally flipped through the small paperback book in the back of each pew. It was an outline of the services for the next two months, published by some higher Catholic entity. So it outlined that today, the first Sunday of Lent, certain scriptures would be read, creeds recited, etc. Next Sunday would be another routine, etc. I really wish we’d thought to look at that beforehand, as it would have helped us to know a little bit more what was going on.
As it was, I couldn’t wait for it to end so I could get out of there. The more kneeling and crossing and standing and reciting, the more I felt out of place, almost like an intruder. My awkwardness reached its peak when it came time to take the communion, as I battled between taking the communion—which I did not want to do—and acknowledging that we were foreigners who had been pretending all along to fit in. The fact that we didn’t even know if it was appropriate for a non-Catholic to take communion made us decide to err on the side of caution, and fortunately there were a few other people who stayed seated during the whole thing too. Phew.
Without an understanding behind the significance of all the rituals, it was difficult to imagine having any sort of spiritual experience through participating in them, especially because everything felt so…distant and impersonal. But some people seemed very spiritually involved in the experience, kneeling and praying with arms outstretched, crossing themselves often, etc. So who knows?
Overall, Catholicism doesn’t strike me as a very simple faith, so I’m not sure that “going to church” would be the first step in learning more about it…
St. Brigid is part of the Archdiocese of San Antonio, which I think is a geographically-based division of the Catholic church.
My experience
My eternal buddy and I arrived about 10 minutes before 12:30 mass on the first Sunday of Lent. I’m always conscious of what everybody else is wearing, and as soon as I noticed that most people were in jeans or similar casual attire, I suggested that Mark take off his suit coat and tie. I try to blend in when I visit these churches (which we will discover later may not be the best choice).
St. Brigid is a huge new building of white stone with an impressive foyer and a large chapel. Just as we were entering, 15 or so people gathered in the foyer were joining hands in circle to say a prayer. Two of the men wore long white robes with purple sashes, and one carried a pole with a crucifix at the top. I pretended to be really interested in some flyers at the side of the foyer so I could watch the circle out of the corner of my eye. They broke up after the end of their prayer and headed into the chapel.
I’m not sure what I expected, but it wasn’t what I saw. The chapel was a large, vaulted octagonal room. The side opposite the entrance had a small choir and a piano, and the other six sides had about 10 rows of pews each. The center of the room was slightly raised, and there was a table on one end (toward the choir), and a small podium, small table, and fountain on the other end. The fountain was more like a gigantic ceramic bowl or planter, just barely full enough that water spilled over all sides. I noticed that everyone entering stopped at the fountain, got their fingers a little wet, and then crossed themselves before finding their seats.
The pews had little padded kneeling benches folded into the pew in front, and many people were kneeling in prayer as we waited for the service to start. The meeting started with some business and welcoming of visitors—I debated whether this would include us, considering the size of the congregation (300 or so people, I would guess). When other visitors’ introductions included the name of the parish they were visiting from, I decided it would be best not to introduce ourselves. That should have tipped me off that trying to blend in with a bunch of Catholics at mass, considering you know nothing about what’s going on, is not a great idea.
During the opening hymn/song (which no one really participated in besides the youth choir, accompanied by a piano, guitar, and flute), a procession of about 15 or so people came across the room carrying the crucifix on the pole that I had seen earlier, as well as a large red and gold book, held high. I assume these were the same people who had been praying in the foyer earlier.
Now, before I go any further with this, a big huge disclaimer: I really know nothing about Catholic liturgy, and it turns out that it’s…involved. And since we were kneeling or standing during a lot of the meeting, my notes are kind of shoddy and there was no way I was going to remember everything that happened and in what order. So. Forgive any errors as I do my best to remember.
One of the white robed men (I think they are bishops. Here we will call them Bishop 1 and Bishop 2) came to the center of the room and welcomed everyone and then led them in a recited confessional.
A teenage girl then read from Genesis (not the KJV, though) from the pulpit in front of the fountain, there was another song, and teenage boy read from 1 Peter from the same pulpit.
At this point Bishop 2 knelt before Bishop 1 (who was seated off to the side of the middle of the room) and received a blessing. Bishop 2 then went to the table toward the choir end of the room and picked up the red and gold book. He held it to his forehead as he walked slowly across the center of the room to the back podium. He opened the book (which I guess was the New Testament) and read from Matthew. At some point the congregation knew it was time to cross themselves, and Bishop 2 raised the open book to his lips, kissed it, walked methodically around the podium to the small table, set the book down, and bowed to it.
He went back around to the podium and gave a brief (maybe 10 minutes) sermon about Jesus being temped by Satan in the wilderness, and how we today can recognize and resist temptation.
After some silence the congregation stood and recited a “profession of faith” that was hugely long (which I later learned was the Nicene Creed). Some people were reading it out of a little paperback book that was in the back of each pew, but many had the whole thing memorized.
Bishop 1 took his place behind the larger table at the front of the room and offered a recited prayer (the refrain of which was “Lord, hear our prayer” and was recited by the congregation). Then the choir (comprised entirely of youth in blue T-shirts, by the way), sang a song as other blue-T-shirt-clad youth passed around the offering baskets.
After the offering, Bishop 2 stood and moved to the middle of the room. Some youth brought a largish basket and a large cup to the bishop, and they bowed to each other. They moved to the large table, which already had 8 small bowls and 8 small chalices set out on it. Bishop 2 brought the basket and the water to the table, where Bishop 1 was waiting.
Disclaimer 2: The administration of the communion/sacrament was a pretty detailed ritual, and I spent most of it on my knees or standing, trying to follow what was going on. I don’t remember all the details, but I do remember some…
Bishop 1 washed his hands in a bowl of water provided by Bishop 2, and then everyone knelt on the kneeling benches. Bishop 1 held his hands hovering over the cup and bowl and chanted (Gregorian style) what I assume was some sort of blessing or prayer over the communion. Then he held up a single round cracker (wafer?) and, holding it up about eye-level, made a full, slow rotation, as if offering it to the whole room. He repeated this with the chalice of water.
After another chant we all stood again and, holding hands (with elbows bent and palms turned up, as if in supplication), everyone recited the Lord’s Prayer. We knelt again as Bishop 1 gave the bread and water to Bishop 2, and then about 15 people or so formed a U around the table and one by one received the communion from Bishop 2, crossed themselves, then were each handed one of the smaller bowls or chalices.
At this point it became clear to me that each person was going to receive the communion (and it didn’t stop at the symbolic rotation of the Bishop, like I had originally thought). Those who had the smaller cups and bowls distributed themselves around the room, and by rows the congregation stood and, in a line, received first a cracker/wafer and then took a sip from the cup. The person giving the wafer raised it to eye level, said “This is the body of Christ” (or something similar), and then the receiver ate it. Between each sip, the cup was wiped with a white cloth (antibacterial? Who knows). Then everyone returned to their seats. (Mark and I debated whether we should go with the flow but neither of us was very comfortable with that. Fortunately a few other people stayed seated, so we followed their lead and just watched.)
The administration of the communion took several minutes, and toward the end the choir sang another song. Some people just sat and others knelt while we all waited for the end of the communion. After some announcements (mostly related to Lent events), we stood again for another prayer. Bishop 1 stood and blessed everyone and again, rotating in a circle after he did so.
Finally, there was a recessional of the cross (similar to the processional at the beginning), where those same 15 or so people removed the crucifix on the pole from the front of the room and proceeded out of the room, joined this time by the bishops. There was another song during this, and after they were done everyone else began to disperse, each dipping again in the water fountain and crossing themselves on the way out.
What I got out of it
The bishop’s sermon (do they call them sermons?) was based on the story of Jesus being tempted in the wilderness, and how that relates to each of us being able to resist temptation. He pointed out that Satan doesn’t tempt us with ugly things, but desirable things that might even be good in another context. Ultimately, he tempts us to “worship at the altar of self and pride,” but following these worldly appetites will not satisfy.
He pointed out that we are not alone as we face temptation—God gave has given the Church, sacraments (which in Catholicism refers to communion, baptism, etc), and each other. He also reminded us that we will not be tempted beyond what we are able to bear. And, in fact, if we recognize temptation for the lie that it is, rejecting it actually leaves us stronger.
The Bishop’s struck me as dramatic and oratorically skillful, but not very spiritual.
Other thoughts
It was very interesting to me that even though the building seemed brand new, the chapel had the same distant austerity that you feel when you visit old cathedrals. It was large, open, and everything echoed. It might be best described by what it was not: warm and cozy. I wonder if that was intentional…?
This is the first church I have visited where I felt awkward and out of place. There was so much ritual involved with the worship experience that it was obvious that trying to blend in was kind of a joke. I wish we had told someone straight up that we were just visiting today, which would have given us license to not participate in some or any of the kneeling, standing, reciting, etc., and hopefully we would have been able to ask questions.
It wasn’t until after the service that we finally flipped through the small paperback book in the back of each pew. It was an outline of the services for the next two months, published by some higher Catholic entity. So it outlined that today, the first Sunday of Lent, certain scriptures would be read, creeds recited, etc. Next Sunday would be another routine, etc. I really wish we’d thought to look at that beforehand, as it would have helped us to know a little bit more what was going on.
As it was, I couldn’t wait for it to end so I could get out of there. The more kneeling and crossing and standing and reciting, the more I felt out of place, almost like an intruder. My awkwardness reached its peak when it came time to take the communion, as I battled between taking the communion—which I did not want to do—and acknowledging that we were foreigners who had been pretending all along to fit in. The fact that we didn’t even know if it was appropriate for a non-Catholic to take communion made us decide to err on the side of caution, and fortunately there were a few other people who stayed seated during the whole thing too. Phew.
Without an understanding behind the significance of all the rituals, it was difficult to imagine having any sort of spiritual experience through participating in them, especially because everything felt so…distant and impersonal. But some people seemed very spiritually involved in the experience, kneeling and praying with arms outstretched, crossing themselves often, etc. So who knows?
Overall, Catholicism doesn’t strike me as a very simple faith, so I’m not sure that “going to church” would be the first step in learning more about it…
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