“Telephone” on the El

Remember the old Telephone (or Operator) game?

This isn’t about being a captive audience of oblivious public yakkers. Rather, it’s about an opportunity (?) to consider people’s perceptions. Public transit is so often my lab.

Yesterday it took me almost three hours to get to work. During my trip (mostly on the el), our operator diligently kept us updated—and he gets high marks for his efforts. As we traveled, a problem had developed with signals and switching, resulting in increasing delays. A point he noted often, with apologies.

Eventually we didn’t move at all, sitting in one spot for over half an hour. At that place, he notified us that he had to be off the train to check on a passenger who was feeling ill (he couldn’t walk through the cars, as they were packed). The cell phones came out as people reported the delay to their workplaces.

A woman nearby called someone to explain, and I didn’t pay a whole lot of attention to her, except to wonder that she focused on a) the sick passenger as a reason for the delay, and b) to complain about the lack of funding to the CTA: if they would go back to the operator/conductor duo, the operator could stay on the train while the conductor investigated a problem or emergency. Fair enough. Several weeks ago, the last car(s) of a subway train derailed, and while the operator was off the train to investigate, people in the rear cars, fearing the increasing smoke, chose to evacuate. The operator, while off the train, couldn’t give emergency instructions to passengers, which made the situation worse (he couldn’t do much about it). Definitely a problem with a one-operator train.

This wasn’t the case yesterday.

The operator returned shortly and reported that the passenger was feeling better. And we were still waiting for signals/switches.

After that excursion, we sat for another 10 minutes or so, and then the operator announced that he would be off the train again, to open the windows that could be opened—cars were becoming stuffy, I assumed. Out came the cell phones again, and this time I paid more attention to the woman. She repeated her rant about staffing the trains for safety, but I realized she also repeated an earlier comment about “the driver, or whatever they’re called.” She reiterated the sick passenger issue (no longer an issue) and went on about the windows. Only the barest mention of the signals/switches.

The operator reboarded, and we sat some more. Finally he announced that he’d been told to reverse direction, to return to the previous station, and he would have to be off the train to get it ready to go that way (it meant that he had to go to the opposite end of the train to operate it from the cab at that end). A couple of guys didn’t know the train could go the other direction. Hmm.

The woman, back on her phone, reported that the operator kept getting off the train, dealing with several sick passengers and whatever (with yet another rant about the CTA’s staffing).

Were we in the same situation at all?

I heard a number of other people relay less (though still) erroneous information, and it’s impossible to know all the reasons—perhaps the people on the receiving end weighted some information more importantly and messages were tailored to their anticipated reception.

People take in information differently; some are oriented towards visuals, some do better with oral information, while others plug into written instruction. Not something the CTA can fix in emergencies, even with its best efforts. Still, I’m greatly concerned as I consider how the best reporting efforts may be in vain, in the increasingly anxious world we inhabit.

More on attire in church

I wore sneakers to church today. Not because of disrespect, but because it was necessary. As it has been on occasion.

I walk to church (public transit being of no help on Sundays), and as it’s two miles and my knees and back are rather cranky, walking shoes are necessary. Normally, I would wear a pair that is maybe one step up from sneakers in terms of proper attire (my best pair), but it rained today. Those shoes throw up water, so that before I’ve walked a block on wet sidewalks, I might as well have jumped in a puddle so as to get the foot-soaking over with.

Instead I wore my sneakers, because I had to go to work after church and I really didn’t want wet feet all day.

All the time, I kept wondering, “Who’s going to judge me by what’s on my feet?”

Most of the people in the parish don’t know me—I’ve been a bit shy at meeting and greeting—so they wouldn’t know my circumstances and even if they did, they might not excuse my disrespectful feet (the rest of me was respectful—decent slacks and a nice blouse).

And I had to think back on my previous post, which I know was rather testy.

I was angry. I’m not offering an excuse—the lectionary today held me accountable: “You must understand this, my beloved: let everyone be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger; for your anger does not produce God’s righteousness.” James 1:19. Instead, I must acknowledge why I reacted to Dear Abby’s writers and (only a little) to comments on Dash’s blog.

I don’t want people to look at only my outward appearance, which is, unfortunately, in keeping with my circumstances. I want people to understand that I can’t, for several reasons, maintain the appearance that would allow them to see me. If that makes sense.

Is it possible for people in different financial situations to look past that in each other (and it goes both directions) to find our connection in Christ?

What about dogs in church?

Concerns over attire in church got me to wondering: how would people feel about the priest’s dog accompanying him during Mass? I’m not talking about the Blessing of the Animals, a special service when pet-owners bring their critters to Mass (usually in commemoration of St. Francis).

I know how people feel in the parish I’ve been attending. The dog, Abydos, is loved and understood, as was his predecessor, Nabucco.

First, you must know that this parish is Episcopal/Anglican—verrrry high. All the smells and bells, and the choir chants the Proper every Sunday (Introit, Gradual/Alleluia, Offertory, and Communion). Gorgeous vestments, lots of kneeling and bowing. On feast days the Epistle and Gospel are intoned.

The parish is also quite a melting pot—it is truly the most diverse place I’ve been. I think at least half come from African countries and the Caribbean, and there are others who have come from numerous other places around the world.

So. Abydos has his own tasseled black pillow, behind the altar rail, where he is to go when the procession begins. It’s a few feet from the altar, but it’s the most out-of-the-way place for him, and Fr. H. can keep an eye on him. Now and then he gets restless, and Fr. H. calmly re-installs him in his place. Abydos is also a regular attendee of our Compline service there.

Abydos is a Saluki, as was Nabucco. Fr. H. notes that the only dog Muslims accept as clean is the Saluki, a very old breed—they say that Allah “kissed the Saluki” right above the eyes (evidenced by white “eyebrows”). Abydos looks a lot like this. So he’s already liturgically furred, though as Fr. H. notes, he often sits with his back to the High Altar.

Unfortunately, Abydos’ breeder maintained one of those nightmares you hear of on the news—way too many animals, malnourished, abused—she’s doing time for how she treated her animals. Fr. H. got involved with a “rescue” operation for Salukis, and agreed to adopt three-year-old Abydos, not knowing for sure if loving care could restore his spirit. Ten months later, Abydos looks as a dog should look (initially he took up as little space as he could and his tail was always tucked between his legs). He had to learn not to relieve himself wherever he was; in the kennel he had been caged, left to live with his own offal. He’s learned to go for walks. He’s learned that if Fr. H. is gone for awhile, he will come back (part of the reason Fr. H. keeps him close by at church).

Not all the damage can be undone—he’s definitely scarred. He’s still skittish around people he sees all the time (especially women, I think, because the damage was done by a woman).

So perhaps this is not so much about dogs in church, but a dog in a church, being restored to his rightful nature. Sometimes people treat their pets better than they do their fellow human beings, but this isn’t the case with Fr. H. How he deals with Abydos is a manifestation of his character—it’s how he deals with people. He greets all his parishioners by name, including all their children, and takes the time to learn newcomers’ and visitors’ names (and is amazing at remembering them). If he hasn’t seen someone in a while, he asks that person’s friends or relatives about his or her well-being.

If you were to walk into my parish, not knowing any of the above, what would you think?

Shoes and other clothing in church

Argh. It’s been months since I’ve posted, but Dash’s post (drat her, anyway!) has provoked me. Well, at least the comments, on top of Dear Abby’s column of weeks ago.

Proper attire in church.

Not a topic that concerns me so much, except that people are judging others—primarily on their appearance in church.

Is it a question of respect, knowledge, or awareness?

I know that Biblical Jews were bound to ritual cleansing (and I guess, by extension, concern for attire) before presenting themselves in the Temple. The culture was inseparable from religion.

Over the centuries of Christianity, there were times when laity mattered little, if at all (if not of high-born class). They might have received the Body (and maybe the Blood) only at Easter—otherwise they were expected to be seen, not heard; mostly disregarded. Peasants—serfs—probably didn’t have a whole lot of clothing different from their everyday attire in which to clad themselves. They could only look upon and (perhaps) admire royalty.

Dear Abby’s column contained complaints of those who felt disrespect for themselves and the church on the part of those who came in everyday clothes.

In these days, not so many people come to church because of parental/peer pressure or cultural expectations. They may be seeking the Holy (however diligently or not), and many come without any training in how to present oneself in the presence of the Holy as it has been understood, at least over the past two centuries in this country. They are probably very akin to the pagan converts in the first century.

Debates raged then over actions—circumcision or not?—eating food that had been offered to idols?

I haven’t seen a whole lot that indicates “dressing up” was a concern, if only because everyone then of peasant status probably more or less dressed the same all the time. So: not worthy of further consideration.

So much for respect and knowledge. How much does our culture—no longer explicitly Christian—transmit to us of these?

Awareness—self-awareness—is a topic that transcends spirituality. Yes, spirituality addresses self-awareness, but psychology has much to say in this arena.

Years ago, I had a piano up for sale. People came to the house to try it out. One woman sat down to play, and I instantly noticed her beautifully manicured, extremely long fingernails. As she played, she was rather disturbed: what was the noise she kept hearing? I heard her fingernails clicking on the keys, but tried diligently to hear what she might be hearing, because I couldn’t imagine that she didn’t know how her fingernails sounded on the keys. Eventually she did discover the cause—but even now, I wonder if that lesson stayed with her.

I ride the el to and from work, which has given me plenty of opportunity over the years to observe how people perceive their presence. So many perceive it not at all. Bulky bags pounding into fellow travelers, cell phone conversations which ought to be private—no one else is present, even on a crowded el platform when there is plenty of space to spread out. Spirituality would enlighten people as to their impact on their world—but so would simple lessons in observation and logic.

Does the church now solely bear the burden of enlightenment? I won’t presume to answer that one. But surely the church needs to be aware of concerns that impact not only worship.

We each of us have an arena of impact. What we do and say might make a difference. Is it a child, godchild, close acquaintance who wears the wrong shoes to church? It is appropriate to discuss your concerns with this person. Is it someone else? Then why are you consumed by it? Is it about you or about them? Honestly?

God looks not on the outward appearance, but on the heart. Can we presume to know what is on the person’s heart? Even if that person appears repeatedly in what parts of our culture may say is wrong?

How much impact can you have, approaching someone in criticism, as opposed to approaching him/her in love and concern for his/her spiritual journey? Get to know someone—very well—before judging them—and even then, maybe not.