THERE’S MUSIC IN
COLUMBUS, OHIO’S SOUTHWEST CITY AIR©
By Linda Lee
Greene, January 22, 2019
On
a bright Sunday morning a couple of years ago, I walked through the doors of a
church located on a busy street in Columbus, Ohio’s southwest quadrant, not far
from my former residence. The sign in the yard in front of the church announced
itself as a denomination with which I was familiar.
For
several decades of my adult life, I have been an on-again-off-again attendee of
that particular denomination of churches wherever I have landed in my travels. I
like the reliable diversity of people drawn to its philosophy. In my view,
spirituality rather than religious dogma is its strongest underpinning and
value, and I appreciate its respect and acceptance of other forms of belief,
and even of non-belief, and lifestyles. Its doors are open to red-, yellow-,
black-, brown-, and white-skinned people across all socioeconomic and cultural sectors.
At its core, it is nondiscriminatory, and is the thing I like most about it.
While
the church into whose hallowed hall I wandered so enthusiastically two years
ago shares the same name, I learned over the course of that morning that it was
not an official member of the church of my experience. The first clue of its
difference was a broadly-smiling and elegantly-attired pair of black-skinned
people who greeted me as I ventured into it. Further evidence presented itself
when I saw that beyond them in the sanctuary gathered similarly-plumed,
spruced-up, and cheerful African Americans. Considering my church history, these
were clues that held little significance to me at first. My major response at
the outset was that I felt underdressed, and because of it, woefully out of
place.
I
hesitated self-consciously and uncertainly, but then tucked my inelegant tail between
my legs and entered the sanctuary. Sliding into a discreet corner of one of the
back pews, I huddled and waited anxiously for someone who looked like me to
enter the room. But no one like me ever did appear. I was destined to be the
only white and under-adorned dot in a sea of exquisite black. But funnily, I
soon realized that I was the only
uncomfortable person there. Minutes ticked by, and finally I straightened my
posture and adjusted my attitude correspondingly, and even engaged in
eye-contact with the people near me. It wasn’t long before I gave in to the
urging of my mouth, when exercising a will of its own, it tugged into smiles of
greeting in answer to comparable greetings sent my way.
In
my experience, it is customary for church services to open with music, which in
its own right is a form of worship. Music is also a preliminary to the sermon,
the sermon normally being the principle component of church services. Little
did I know that morning that I was in for spiritual instruction of a different
sort. The thrum of an electric guitar and a crash of a cymbal pulled all eyes
to the front of the room, and a single beat of a drum was the cue that the
service was beginning. A hundred or more, perfectly synchronized and harmonious
voices accompanied by the guitar and drums rang out suddenly and soared to the cavernous
ceiling. The sound shook the floorboards, it rattled the windows, it pulsed the
walls, it vibrated the pews: copious, resounding, foot-stomping, arm-swaying,
joyous, bewitching, hypnotizing, musical praise to God.
Following
a full hour of nonstop gospel music, and among the best I had ever heard, the
pastor walked up to the altar to give what I expected would be his sermon. But
instead, he read from a sheet of paper a series of announcements of upcoming
events and acknowledgements of births and deaths and birthdays and
anniversaries. The pastor folded his notes and placed them in the breast pocket
of his immaculate suit jacket; the women stood up and shouldered their designer
handbags; the men pulled to their feet and adjusted their silk ties, and I
realized that the service was over. I understood as well, that after that music,
no further God-words had been necessary.
Columbus, Oho,
USA, and multi-award-winning author, Linda Lee Greene has authored and published four books. All of
them are available worldwide in eBook and soft cover at online booksellers. Her
latest novel, CRADLE OF THE SERPENT (goo.gl/i3UkAV) was designated as a finalist in the 2018 American
Fiction Awards Competition. It was also awarded a 5 Star Review by Readers’
Favorites. In addition, she was the winner of the 2018 Peter Hills Memorial
Writing Competition. Scheduled for release in early 2019 is her novel, A CHANCE
AT THE MOON. It will be available in soft cover and eBook at Amazon.com and
other online booksellers. An extensive
exhibition of Greene’s artwork can be viewed at www.gallery-llgreene.com.
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