In which Our Hero meets a new sort of show
The weirdest part of the Baptist Easter services was the repetition.
Say it again: The weirdest part of the Baptist Easter services was the repetition.
Listen to me now:
At 9:30am, Partner and I walked north into Harlem. We approached one church on the right. The church was welcoming people inside. We entered. The deacon at the door introduced us, mentioning there is a $10 admission to the service. Partner found this charge unacceptable. We left. You shouldn’t charge admission to Easter services.
Say it with me now: You shouldn’t charge admission to Easter services.
We continued onwards up north. A few blocks later, we arrived at a second church. More active, more bustling, with bright colors adorning all the flock milling about. We joined the line to enter. Security wanded us, patted me down. We ascended to the second floor balcony of the former theater. We joined.
And ‘allelujah, did we experience His flock.
The singing began at 9:54am. It did not stop – I say it did not stop – until 11am.
At 11am, the service stopped for an ad break. The Hope Network and the church itself both advertised (the latter for donations).
Then, 11:05am. The pastor – pastor Mike – enters the stage. This man has the sort of presence that demands a $180 ticket to his 55th birthday party (on a yacht around Manhattan, cash bar, advertised during the ad break). He starts with the text. Of course he starts with the text. And oh boy oh boy does he go deep with the text.
Deep. But not wide. Deep.
What juice can we squeeze out of these four lines of text? And how many times can we repeat it?
There is… profound juice to be squeezed from this one line of text.
I said: this juice can be squeezed.
Now turn to three people near you and share the message: There is. Juice. To squeeze.
A 45 minute sermon. Fewer than 9 points total.
The sermon was the opposite of boring. It was repetitive and grand and communal and physical. It was not wide. It contained 1) Repeating the thesis of the sermon; 2) Inviting the congregation to repeat the thesis of the sermon to their neighbors; 3) Repeating the thesis of the sermon; 4) Raising the audience up to standing; 5) Seating the audience with the wave of a hand; 6) Repeating the thesis of the sermon; and of course 7) Repeating…
Of all my experiences at church, this was my most enjoyable. Partner commented, only half-jokingly: “Our kids might become the only white atheist Hispanics Jews in the Baptist choir.”
I’m reminded of the Grand Texas Megachurches I visited in Austin back in 2019.
Those subtly (or sometimes obviously) wormed their messages into your minds.
Their leaders funneled away money while allegedly practicing various Good Deeds.
This church made no promises. It gave some advice. But it was all vibe.
Upon leaving this church, I felt energized.
At the end of my faith healing in the Austin megachurch, three separate individuals invited me to come back to church. I never did.
But next year, with this Baptist church?
There may be more juice to squeeze.
Julian Wise 