Where we do church matters, sometimes

In a comment to one of my earlier postings, Todd writes:

I have to ponder sometimes why it is that a well-crafted ceremony within an environment of arched doorways, stained glass, wooden pews, and pillars can bring me to reverence in spite of myself.  ... Perhaps - just perhaps - God speaks to us as much through our art and architecture as through our texts and intuition.

Agreed; I've had similar experiences — we do have (at least) five senses, after all ....

That said, though, two of the most moving liturgies in which I've ever participated were outside a church building.

• One was a ten-minute stand-up Eucharist, in a corner of the parish hall early on a Sunday morning, as the usher-captains guild took a break from setting up the kiddie rides, etc., for the parish's annual Rally Day festivities.
• The other was with some other Boy Scout adult leaders, on a Sunday morning of a troop campout — a few of us came out of our tents before dawn on a freezing morning, climbed by flashlight to the top of Enchanted Rock (a 425-foot-high pink granite boulder), and read an abbreviated Morning Prayer service as the sun came up.

Thanks for stopping by, Todd. If you haven't already, you might take a look at my post from a few years ago on Why I Still Call Myself a Christian and an Episcopalian.