Reflections on a Window at St. Mary's

At the moment, I am sitting in the sanctuary of St. Mary's Catholic Church in Stonington, CT, listening to Schola Cantorum rehearse for Mass on Sunday morning.  Katherine the Great was invited to join the group at the last minute for this performance and couldn't pass up the opportunity to see the inside of the only borough church she has never entered.  She is currently in the choir loft, singing beautifully (as always) and sight reading all the music.

Hiding in a rear corner pew on the right side of the sanctuary, I am enjoying the light as it streams in through the gorgeous stained glass windows, twilight drawing ever nearer as I watch.  It isn't very often that I find myself in a church this time of day.  Summertime services are almost always held indoors during the brightest part of the day so parishioners can find some respite from the seasonal heat or outdoors in the evening where the refreshing sea breeze that graces the Connecticut shoreline can provide some much needed relief from the high temperatures and humidity, especially in August.

Growing up Lutheran, and spending so much time in Catholic and Episcopal churches because of my daughter's music performances, I have trouble understanding how anyone can consistently worship in the sterile, multi-purpose buildings that are so often erected by non-denominational congregations, buildings that more often than not have small windows sporting plastic Venetian blinds, usually in white or some horrible shade of mauve.  I know that sounds awful and prejudiced and judgmental and unkind toward my fellow Christians.  I don't mean it to come out that way.  It's just that stained glass windows really are gorgeous;  they tell the story of Scripture (at least they do at this church);  and they represent the use of a God-given gift in service to the Church, the Body of Christ.  To worship surrounded by such reminders of God, the beauty of His creative activity, and the story of His connection to His people is quite moving.  The experience can help inspire the believer to aspire to a greater love of God and a greater desire to serve Him.

This evening, sitting in the rear pew, I am situated beneath the window of Christ on the cross with His mother Mary and the apostle John looking on.  At the bottom are the words, "Into Thy Hands I Commend My Spirit."  Interesting that, as I prepare to leave (now that choir rehearsal is over), the light is gone.  The sun has set and the window is completely dark, just as darkness fell on the day Christ died.  The light will return in the morning, just as Christ returned to us (and for us) on Easter.

Even a stained glass window can tell the story of the Gospel just by standing each day in the light and darkness of the world God created.