church

The church without passion

Two weeks ago I attended a powerful service in Harlem, New York. This Sunday I decided to experience Caribbean Christianity in my local paradise village in Trinidad. Everyone in this country seems full of life and joy, and so I expected this to reflect on their Christian practice.

It did not.

The priest in the local Catholic Church is a tired, old white man from England (the last colonial power here) who did not seem able to mobilize any passion for the gospel he presented. The congregation consisted mainly of well dressed black people, and though they were sitting nicely at the benches, I felt no connection between the priest and the people. No sparks. No smiles. No spirit.

It was a classic service with songs, prayers, readings and a sermon. Today’s text was about Jesus flying off to heaven and included the mission statement, and the priest used this as a chance to complain about a lack of people’s engagement in the church and our Christian mission. Mentioning that;

  • During the last year there had been NO newly baptized in the congregation
  • The children in his church school DON´T even know what the word sacrament means
  • And the annual harvest market must be CANCELLED if no more people are willing to help

The priest realized that his church had lost connection to the society and admitted that the village people would rather gather in front of loud missioners on the street “yelling simple statements in his loudspeakers with a rather shallow theology”. But instead of offering suggestions of what to do, he just tiredly stated the problems leaving everyone in the room feeling quite uncomfortable.

That is what happened in the church without passion.

Halleluja Harlem !!!

Today, I attended the Sunday service at “Canaan Baptist Church of Christ” – 117th street north of Central Park. I does not get any more black and spirited.

After waiting in line outside with hundreds of other tourists, I finally got in the packed church room and was placed with a young French couple in the left side of the hall. Locals were sitting all around us. On stage were two gospel choirs, a sign language interpreter, a funky miniband and a huge, bald jazz-organ-man dressed in red robes. Plus the reverend himself.

“We are a congregation in mission”

Those are the first words I remember. I felt a kind of activist power and passion in every statement coming from the stage (in words, drama og songs) – regarding both social justice and the glory of God. The Holy Spirit was present, some might say. And he combined it all with a jazzy organ soundtrack, gospels tunes and yelling from the church.

After two and a half hour, the service ended by everyone standing hand in hand singing a gospel about how the Lord may be with us. I left the church spirited and with real Gods blessings from the Harlem girl standing next to me. And my life could continue.

The Cotton Club 2
Cameras were not allowed in the church. This photo is from a Gospel and Brunch -event at the legendary “Cotton Club” this same afternoon. But that is another story 🙂

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