What Belongs Near the Altar?

Should church buildings have rules about who can come in and what happens inside the building?  Generally I say no rules, but……

The stream of eager young adults began arriving at the big open church an hour early to make sure they got a seat.  Dressed in colorful informal clothes, sweats and tank tops, they were excited and chatty, saving places for the friends they meet there every week.

No, I wasn't at a fundamentalist mega-church.  I was at Grace Cathedral in San Francisco, a massive century old neo-gothic Episcopal sanctuary complete with a bishop and a rose window  and a high altar and needlepoint kneeling cushions.

There's also a labyrinth laid into the floor at the back of the church, near the entrance, modeled on the one in Chartres Cathedral in France.  In the past few decades many churches have installed these floor patterns as a popular spiritual tool for walking meditation.  These eager folks, 300 of them, were coming this Tuesday night to "Yoga on the Labyrinth," a weekly combination class, meditation time, and meet up. 

I was also inside Grace Cathedral last week. But not to attend the yoga class, which I only discovered because I showed up for a more traditional church event, Evening Prayer.  I was in the city for a holiday visit, staying near the church.   For two nights in a row I, and 8 other people, took part in the 5:30 Evening Prayer service of psalms and prayers in the little chapel in the front of the church. 

The first night we were the only worshipers in the vast dark sanctuary at end of day, and as we left, they locked the church doors behind us at 6 pm.  But the next night I saw the stream of young adults, yoga mats under their arms, walking up the massive steps to the cathedral even before I arrived for the 5:30 service.  Even before we finished the prayer service, there was a dull roar of happy arrivals in the back, and I had trouble finding a path out among the hundreds of colorful yoga mats all over the church, many labeled "Grace."  It's not a yoga group that rents space at the church, it's a popular ministry of the church, and they even provide mats if you don't have one.

I remember when the church I attended in Monterey first suggested installing a labyrinth 20 years ago.  It seemed to me at first just the latest fad, and the proponents were so "New Age-y" that I had my doubts.  In their enthusiasm it sounded to me that they were worshipping the labyrinth, rather than God. 

My mind was changed by two different sets of people and how they reacted to the idea of installing a labyrinth.  I heard people tell stories of having been really hurt by church, shunned or scorned, and they said this simple walking meditation in a spiritual place was helping them feel welcomed back in and connected to God.  OK, that was a good thing.  Then I heard the bitter old men of the finance committee vote against it, concerned only with the threat of liability and the danger of strangers on the property.  OK, if those fossils were so opposed to it, then it must really be a good idea.  I've walked many a labyrinth since.

So I was surprised that my initial reaction to the happy yoga folks in the cathedral was a little bit of annoyance and disapproval. 

Just a little.  I could get over the intrusive noise in my quiet Evening Prayer time.  And it was good to see the labyrinth doing its job again, getting young folks into church.  I have no trouble with having a religious practice originally developed by Hinduism take place in a Christian church.  (Perhaps it was OK to me because it was New Age yoga atop New Age labyrinth.  Except they are both ancient practices, older than Christianity!)

My problem was, they weren't just putting down their mats on the labyrinth.  They needed more room.  They lined the aisles with their pink and green and purple mats, and then along the side aisles.  And then I saw the young woman in a tight and minimal leotard laying her mat down in the chancel area, in front of the high altar.  I thought to myself, "Does the bishop know about this?"

The chancel is the area in "high" churches, Catholic and Anglican mostly, around the altar, often surrounded by a low rail, which is also the communion rail.  Only certain people can enter that area during the worship service.  It is special, due extra respect.

That's what I was taught as a little Episcopal girl.  I still feel a little in awe when I go to an Anglican church and we are invited to sit in the choir stalls during evensong - do I deserve to sit up here, so close to the holiest part?

But come on, Streeter, you left that church because you don’t believe in any hierarchies in God’s community, no one is better than others, no places are so holy that some people are forbidden.  You are now a Congregationalist, all are welcome here.  And I’ve felt the sting of those restrictions personally - it was used to keep women out of serving at the altar - I was never allowed to be an altar girl, there was no such thing.  Neither were there women priests when I was growing up. 

OK, so I tried to remember that I’d left behind the idea that there is a holy of holies and some people aren't allowed in.  So why not have yoga mats in front of the altar?  Why not leotards in church - I've seen them on liturgical dancers?

You can see why I have trouble going to church - my brain works too hard and I have a wee tiny judgmental and puritan streak. 

But then I walked through the yoga crowd.  I saw the very happy attendees, and saw more streaming up the steps.  Others I saw getting off the cable car with mats under their arms saying they had come from across the bay.  A cathedral priest stood at the entrance welcoming people to "this time of meditation in this holy place, where all are welcome.”  The yoga teacher said, "Your body is temple, breathe in the spirit of love and healing and give thanks."

And I thought, "Get over it, Streeter, the altar is the exact place where seekers and pilgrims should be, and should move, and should lie on holy ground and lift up their hearts and the rest of their bodies to the Holy Spirit." 

I hope the bishop knows about this, and how vital this ministry is.

Copyright © 2016 Deborah Streeter