Making Friends Wherever We Go…

Woodlands Road has a plethora of places of worship, and this past weekend we resumed our habit of strolling down the street, finding a church that looks interesting, and wandering on in. This week we were Methodists, and were met by some lovely people who asked us where we were from, why we were in Glasgow, and how long we were staying. We were ushered upstairs (with many apologies from the deacon for such “strange” accommodations,” – apparently there are few churches with upstairs sanctuaries) and seated in the quiet chapel, with its traditional red sandstone blocks and stained glass windows.

We had chosen this church because the minister is female, and that’s always interesting, if one has grown up within largely patriarchal services. The lesson was long, and from the book of Matthew, and we spent a great deal of the beginning of service playing peek-a-book with a two-year-old, solemnly chewing his cracker and apparently doing his best to imprint us to memory by virtue of wide-eyed staring.

We suddenly snapped to attention when the minister announced that we would be breaking into groups to discuss the lesson, and each group would report back to the main church body what conclusions we had drawn.

SO not the words visitors want to hear, but we good-naturedly (mostly) arranged ourselves at the rear of the chapel around a gentleman who turned out to be a lecturer at the University of Strathclyde, and read out our short bit of the lesson:

The Parables of the Hidden Treasure and the Pearl
Thirteenth chapter of Matthew, verse 44 “The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field.“

Right. Our leader smiled nervously around the circle of fifteen or so parishioners and prepared to jot down everyone’s thoughts on this bit of the lesson. Around us, we heard the muted babble of other groups getting on with things, so several people cleared their throats and offered up generic answers about the treasure (it was something worth having) and the man selling all his goods (he knew that the treasure was worth having). And then D. cleared his throat.

“Isn’t this kind of dishonest?” he asked.

“What’s that?” Our leader turned.

“This has always bothered me,” D. began, slowly. “Some guy finds this treasure in a field he’s just… in, and then he reburies it and buys the field — without telling the owner what he was digging around on his land and found treasure IN SOMEONE ELSE’S FIELD. What’s up with that? How is the kingdom of heaven like…dishonesty?“

Around the circle, brows raised. Heads bent over the text, and gimlet eyes looked up sharply over half-glasses.

You could have heard a pin drop.

T. scrunched down in her chair and sort of genteelly doubled over in a “coughing” fit, so that the inappropriate giggles were (somewhat) masked. Our leader shook his head. “Interesting,” he murmured, and frowned. Several others made inarticulate noises, and shook their heads. We sat.

And we sat.

So complete was our silence that the minister breezed over, beaming. “How are we getting on here?” she called, obviously expecting us all to be deeply into our task.

“Well, can’t get past the first sentence,” our leader said cheerfully. “Listen to this fellow — ” and he pointed at D., and explained our impasse.

Not surprisingly, the minister offered some vague sentence about finding different meanings in lessons each time we read them, and quickly called all the groups back to their seats, where she gave a brief wrap-up talk, and launched us into six verses of a hymn. At close of service, D. was approached by several other members — all of whom were retired professors — and asked again about his studies. His reply of “philosophy” had many heads nodding. “Ah-hah,” they said, patting him on the shoulder.

Meanwhile, the minister grimaced and melted into the crowd when we headed her direction.

That’s us Hobbits, making friends wherever we go!!

Somewhat ruefully, we skipped out on the post-service tea and walked home in a thoughtful frame of mind. While it wasn’t our intent to embarrass the minister, it appears we have, so we won’t be visiting that congregation again for awhile. Still, this has prompted us to lob the question to our friend Jean, who is an Hebrew scholar, and to you, if you’re of a churchy bent: what was the lesson supposed to mean?!

Meanwhile, the miracle of the Scottish summer continues, as temperatures hover in the humid eighties. Glaswegians are swanning about in any available patch of sunlight, arms and legs torsos and as much skin as is barely legal bared, rejoicing. The house, with its four feet thick walls, seems to stay the same temperature regardless of what is going on outside, and is a nice place to come back to after walking through town.

Cheers!

– D & T

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