It was a passing introduction at the school’s open house that led me to spend the next four weeks church hopping in Hoonah.
Andrew and I visited the Lutherans, the Catholics, the Fellowship, and the Salvation Army Church. Which one will be our home church? That will be revealed in a few weeks. Today I would like to share with you our first church experience….
Surrounded by little ones and parents, I made my way through the halls to Andrew’s classroom when a tall bearded man with smiling eyes introduced himself as Mike, the Lutheran minister. The only Lutheran service I have attended has been a funeral, but for some reason I asked what time his service started. “Sunday at 11,” he replied. It was without hesitation that I agreed to attend and come Sunday at 11, Andrew and I were there.
The Harbor of Light Lutheran Church is the only house of worship located on Main Street. The building is owned by the Presbyterians of Juneau, although there is no Presbyterian service offered in Hoonah. Mike, his wife Justine, and their two boys just moved from Aloha, Oregon 7 months ago.
Andrew and I, with umbrella in hand, walked through the rain and quietly found our way inside, up the stairs and into the small, cozy chapel. Its layout is traditional as chapels go; wooden pews, creaky floors, center alter, old piano, organ and church bells on a rope that the Vicar rang at the top of the hour.
The congregation consisted of 12 people, including Andrew and me. Many were involved in the service as musicians, lectors, candle lighters and Carol, the Librarian of the school, was also the Alter Society. As I looked over the bulletin, every last name seemed to be of Norwegian origin; Vikor: Micheal Borg, Violinist/Alter Society: Joyce Olsen, Guitarist: Arnie Erickson, and on it went.
After ringing the bells, the Pastor led the entrance song. His loud, booming voice carried the melody until he rapidly switched to blowing the trumpet for the last two verses.
Pastor Borg incorporated a story of Peter Olshiem, a famous Norwegian architect, into his sermon. We said the Niacin Creed, The Lord’s Prayer, and had communion. All rituals felt very familiar because the format and many of the prayers were identical to that of a Catholic service. But it was singing of the hymns that brought on a different sense of familiarity. Despite the harsh twang of the piano and reluctant singing congregation…the hymns gave me a flood of loving images. I pictured my father growing up attending a Lutheran service much like this one.
I could see him tucked snuggly between his Mother and his eldest sister Gladys, followed in line by his three older sisters. His Father would sit strongly and proudly at the end of the pew, the anchor of his beautiful family. When the time came to sing the hymns of praise they would all stand, never fearful to lift their voices in perfect harmony. Grandpa Leines was a baritone, he sang the bottom line of music, Grandma Mithilda was an alto taking the second line, perhaps Auntie Grace and Auntie Millie would sing soprano while Auntie Gladys and Romie would switch between alto or soprano…just to show off. But my Dad would always sing the third line down. He was a tenor…from those early years as a young boy and all through his adult life. Dad’s voice was pure, melodious, perfectly on pitch, and a sound that I still hear clearly today.
Sitting there on the cold wooden pew in Hoonah, I flashed back to the many times I sang with him. When I was young, I loved joining Mom and Dad at the piano. Mom would practice for Sunday services and all three of us would harmonize to the entire song line-up for next morning. Mom would sing melody, I reveled in the alto register, and Dad would soar on the third line down. It was such a safe place….those black notes written securely between my mom and dad’s voice. While we sang the hymns in this service, I wished that I could find that place again. Yet it seems that God has me singing melody and in this atmosphere …He’s got me singing solo.
Even during the past few days of his life, sacred hymns were important to him. I recall his nieces, my mom, my siblings and me gathered around his Hospice bed singing to him, “In the Garden.” It was his mother’s favorite hymn and he knew all the words by heart. Our voices joined together…mostly melody at different octaves with some random harmony squeezed in. Nevertheless, the music brought a smile to his face, he mouthed the words and lifted his tenor voice to join in song one last time.
The church service concluded with a bold ensemble of instruments and singing…abruptly bringing me out of memories of my sweet father. When we were done, I placed the hymnal gently back in its place. Andrew and I were invited to join the others in an eclectic buffet of hot chocolate, tea, ginger cookies, biscotti, chips and mango salsa. I enjoyed some tea while listening to bear stories. Andrew quickly drank two cups of hot chocolate while munching on biscotti and giggling at the kid table with Pastor’s sons.
The Lutheran church was a comfortable introduction to the religious community of Hoonah. The people were welcoming and the rituals familiar. Yet it was the strong connection I felt to my father that was the true surprising comfort. It felt so good to visit with him on this Sunday morning, to see his handsome face, to sing with him once again, to hear his voice in harmony with mine. My earthly father gave me a bounty of beautiful memories and in this odd little place it brings me so much comfort to know he is always with me. How can I ignore this touching duality reminding me what is infinitely true of my heavenly father as well? He is my Harbor of Light.
Andrew and I visited the Lutherans, the Catholics, the Fellowship, and the Salvation Army Church. Which one will be our home church? That will be revealed in a few weeks. Today I would like to share with you our first church experience….
Surrounded by little ones and parents, I made my way through the halls to Andrew’s classroom when a tall bearded man with smiling eyes introduced himself as Mike, the Lutheran minister. The only Lutheran service I have attended has been a funeral, but for some reason I asked what time his service started. “Sunday at 11,” he replied. It was without hesitation that I agreed to attend and come Sunday at 11, Andrew and I were there.
The Harbor of Light Lutheran Church is the only house of worship located on Main Street. The building is owned by the Presbyterians of Juneau, although there is no Presbyterian service offered in Hoonah. Mike, his wife Justine, and their two boys just moved from Aloha, Oregon 7 months ago.
Andrew and I, with umbrella in hand, walked through the rain and quietly found our way inside, up the stairs and into the small, cozy chapel. Its layout is traditional as chapels go; wooden pews, creaky floors, center alter, old piano, organ and church bells on a rope that the Vicar rang at the top of the hour.
The congregation consisted of 12 people, including Andrew and me. Many were involved in the service as musicians, lectors, candle lighters and Carol, the Librarian of the school, was also the Alter Society. As I looked over the bulletin, every last name seemed to be of Norwegian origin; Vikor: Micheal Borg, Violinist/Alter Society: Joyce Olsen, Guitarist: Arnie Erickson, and on it went.
After ringing the bells, the Pastor led the entrance song. His loud, booming voice carried the melody until he rapidly switched to blowing the trumpet for the last two verses.
Pastor Borg incorporated a story of Peter Olshiem, a famous Norwegian architect, into his sermon. We said the Niacin Creed, The Lord’s Prayer, and had communion. All rituals felt very familiar because the format and many of the prayers were identical to that of a Catholic service. But it was singing of the hymns that brought on a different sense of familiarity. Despite the harsh twang of the piano and reluctant singing congregation…the hymns gave me a flood of loving images. I pictured my father growing up attending a Lutheran service much like this one.
I could see him tucked snuggly between his Mother and his eldest sister Gladys, followed in line by his three older sisters. His Father would sit strongly and proudly at the end of the pew, the anchor of his beautiful family. When the time came to sing the hymns of praise they would all stand, never fearful to lift their voices in perfect harmony. Grandpa Leines was a baritone, he sang the bottom line of music, Grandma Mithilda was an alto taking the second line, perhaps Auntie Grace and Auntie Millie would sing soprano while Auntie Gladys and Romie would switch between alto or soprano…just to show off. But my Dad would always sing the third line down. He was a tenor…from those early years as a young boy and all through his adult life. Dad’s voice was pure, melodious, perfectly on pitch, and a sound that I still hear clearly today.
Sitting there on the cold wooden pew in Hoonah, I flashed back to the many times I sang with him. When I was young, I loved joining Mom and Dad at the piano. Mom would practice for Sunday services and all three of us would harmonize to the entire song line-up for next morning. Mom would sing melody, I reveled in the alto register, and Dad would soar on the third line down. It was such a safe place….those black notes written securely between my mom and dad’s voice. While we sang the hymns in this service, I wished that I could find that place again. Yet it seems that God has me singing melody and in this atmosphere …He’s got me singing solo.
Even during the past few days of his life, sacred hymns were important to him. I recall his nieces, my mom, my siblings and me gathered around his Hospice bed singing to him, “In the Garden.” It was his mother’s favorite hymn and he knew all the words by heart. Our voices joined together…mostly melody at different octaves with some random harmony squeezed in. Nevertheless, the music brought a smile to his face, he mouthed the words and lifted his tenor voice to join in song one last time.
The church service concluded with a bold ensemble of instruments and singing…abruptly bringing me out of memories of my sweet father. When we were done, I placed the hymnal gently back in its place. Andrew and I were invited to join the others in an eclectic buffet of hot chocolate, tea, ginger cookies, biscotti, chips and mango salsa. I enjoyed some tea while listening to bear stories. Andrew quickly drank two cups of hot chocolate while munching on biscotti and giggling at the kid table with Pastor’s sons.
The Lutheran church was a comfortable introduction to the religious community of Hoonah. The people were welcoming and the rituals familiar. Yet it was the strong connection I felt to my father that was the true surprising comfort. It felt so good to visit with him on this Sunday morning, to see his handsome face, to sing with him once again, to hear his voice in harmony with mine. My earthly father gave me a bounty of beautiful memories and in this odd little place it brings me so much comfort to know he is always with me. How can I ignore this touching duality reminding me what is infinitely true of my heavenly father as well? He is my Harbor of Light. 
2 comments:
Beautiful.
I'm sure they loved having you visit. I know your voice made the service that day.
By the way, about the fund raiser, let me know - I'm in.
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