According to Hofmann: Finding comfort in one’s own pew
Comedian Lenny Bruce once said people are straying away from the church to get back to God. I can’t agree or disagree with that statement, but I agree that I never seem to be totally comfortable at church.
Now, I know you’re not supposed to discuss religion and politics at the dinner table, and even though I’m writing this on a dinner table, I’m not trying to make any kind of deep critical dive into religion. This week’s column is more like a head-first dive in the shallow end of the pool known as different churches and the people in them, so it’s more like a sociological look at how some churches function and conduct themselves.
First, it’s best that I present my baseline for a comfortable church service.
The church where I’ve been most comfortable was one I grew up with — a small Methodist church with a small congregation of close-knit people, pews, hymns from the red books or from the green books on special occasions like it’s fine china when guests are visiting, the preacher reads a few Bible verses, tells a story, they collect money, and off you go to watch football.
My first taste of another type of church was my cousin’s, where we went whenever my brother and I spent the night at their house. They were Catholic, so the whole thing was a different world to a kid like me.
Basically, all I did there was sit and observe because I was instructed to not do anything to take part in the Mass. It felt like a secret club. I couldn’t touch the holy water, I couldn’t go to confession, I couldn’t kneel on the padded kneeler board that swung down in front of us and I couldn’t take communion.
We only had communion once a month in my church, so I felt cheated. On the car ride from the church, I kept asking my cousins what that wafer tasted like because we only had a loaf of bread and grape juice.
Another type of church I’ve attended is what I call the mini-mega church, which are local churches that are bigger than my church with a live band, sound systems, visuals on flat-screen televisions with surround sound, in-house cafes and padded chairs. They also accept credit cards and PayPal, and have apps you can download to follow along with the service that you’re seeing live.
You’d think a different church would be refreshing, but not for me.
As soon as I settle in, I start to wonder if I’m sitting in someone else’s unofficial seat, to the point where after I sit down, I want to say to every person who walks by or gives me a look, “Is this your seat? Because I can move if it is.” I also struggle with how to react if the service deviates from what I’m used to.
Just to be clear, I’m not knocking any of these things — whether it be the live band or a prayer circle — I’m just saying it’s not really my style.
I’m a simple man with simple needs in what I want from a church, and I also believe that those differences are just alternate paths that take you to one (or another) location anyway.
According to Hofmann is written by staff reporter Mark Hofmann of Rostraver Township. His books, “Good Mourning! A Guide to Biting the Big One…and Dying, Too” and “Stupid Brain,” are available on Amazon.com.